omnibus,
the little Rogerses climbing out after him. This time the nursemaid
joined the crowd in the charge-room.

"I have been robbed," almost sobbed Mr. Rogers; then with unconscious
irony added, "Everything has gone, except my wife and children."

The sergeant was conventionally sympathetic, but officially reticent.
A man should be sent to No. 131 Branksome Road, to institute enquiries.

"What the devil is the use of that?" shouted Mr. Rogers. "I want my
furniture, and it's not in my house. What are the police for?"

"I want my horse!" Eustace set up another howl. He, together with his
six brothers and sisters and the nursemaid, were now ranged behind
their father, looking with large-eyed wonder at the sergeant.

"Look at these!" Mr. Rogers turned and with a sweep of his hand
indicated his progeny as if he were a barrister calling attention to a
row of exhibits. "What am I to do with them to-night?"

There was another howl from Eustace, and a whimper from Muriel the
youngest.

The sergeant had not been on duty when Bindle called for the key, but
he had heard it said that the key of No. 131 had been handed to the
bearer of a letter from a firm of furniture-removers. This he
explained to Mr. Rogers, regretting that apparently the letter itself
had been put aside. On Monday the whole matter should be threshed out
and the guilty brought to justice.

He gave the assurance rather as an official formality than as the
result of any inherent conviction of his own.

"Monday?" almost shrieked Mr. Rogers. "What am I to do until Monday?"

The sergeant suggested that perhaps the neighbours might extend
hospitality.

"Who is going to take in eleven people?" shouted Mr. Rogers. "We shall
all starve!"

At this announcement the Rogerses, who were all sturdy trenchermen, set
up such a howl as to bring Mrs. Rogers and the other maid out of the
omnibus.

Just at that moment Archie Clark, a precocious youth of twelve, rode up
full of importance and information. He pushed his way through the mass
of Rogerses, and without preliminary shouted, "33 Lebanon Avenue,
Chiswick; that's where the van went."

The sergeant picked up a pen and began to take down the address.

"Get into the bus, get in, all of you," shouted Mr. Rogers. He saw
that little help was to be obtained from the police. In the hurry of
getting off, somehow or other and in spite of his protests, Archie
Clark was bundled into the omnibus and Eust