that someone wanted to speak to Mr. Brown immediately. "Who is it?"
I demanded. "I don't know, Sir," said the girl, "but he looks like a
policeman."

"I hope nothing has happened to your wife," said Mrs. J. anxiously.
"Or her mother," added Jones rather cynically.

The man at the door was certainly a policeman, and an elderly one, and
had probably been recalled from pension when the War broke out.

"Good evening, Sir," he said, staring hard at me. "Are you
Mr. Brown"--I nodded--"of Myrtle Villa, next door"--he eyed me
suspiciously--"No. 17?"

"Yes, yes," I said impatiently; "what of it?"

"I must ask you for your name and address, Sir," pulling out his
note-book, "for showing a strong light at the back of the 'ouse at 8
P.M."

"That's all nonsense," I answered impatiently; "the house is empty."

"Excuse me, Sir, I saw it myself from the road at the back and came
straight round," said he with his notebook ready.

"But it can't be," I said, getting annoyed.

At this moment a Special came running down the path. "They're coming,"
he panted.