Sergeant Cook, the six-foot proprietor of the shop, was examining a
broken window when they arrived, and muttering to himself.

"Hullo!" said Dunstable, "what's this? New idea for ventilation? Golly,
massa, who frew dat brick?"

"Done it at ar-parse six last night, he did," said Sergeant Cook, "the
red-'eaded young scallywag. Ketch 'im--I'll give 'im--"

"Sounds like dear old Albert," said Linton. "Who did it, sergeant?"

"Red-headed young mongrel. 'Good old Pedder,' he says. 'I'll give you
Pedder,' I says. Then bang it comes right on top of the muffins, and
when I doubled out after 'im 'e'd gone."

Mrs Cook appeared and corroborated witness's evidence. Dunstable
ordered tea.

"We may meet him on our way home," said Linton. "If we do, I'll give
him something from you with your love. I owe him a lot for myself."

Mrs Cook clicked her tongue compassionately at the sight of the obvious
void in the speaker's mouth.

"You'll 'ave to 'ave a forlse one, Mr Linton," said Sergeant Cook with
gloomy relish.

The back shop was empty. Dunstable and Linton sat down and began tea.
Sergeant Cook came to the door from time to time and dilated further on