He turned it over and over in amaze, and looked in vain for any signs of
the disastrous cracks. It was stiff and upright. He looked at the
number: it was his own. His eyes round with astonishment he tried it on,
and then his face relaxed.

"It don't fit as well as it did," he said.

"Well, upon my word, some people are never satisfied," said the indignant
Drill. "There isn't another man in England could have done it better."

"I'm not grumbling," said the constable, hastily; "it's a wonderful piece
o' work. Wonderful! I can't even see where it was broke. How on earth
did you do it?"

Drill shook his head. "It's a secret process," he said, slowly. "I
might want to go into the hat trade some day, and I'm not going to give
things away."

"Quite right," said Mr. Jenkins. "Still--well, it's a marvel, that's
what it is; a fair marvel. If you take my advice you'll go in the hat
trade to-morrow, my lad."

"I'm not surprised," said Mr. Gunnill, whose face as he spoke was a map
of astonishment. "Not a bit. I've seen him do more surprising things
than that. Have a go at the staff now, Teddy."

"I'll see about it," said Mr. Drill, modestly. "I can't do
impossibilities. You leave it here, Mr. Jenkins, and we'll talk about it
later on."