, for her mind had not yet been weaned
from certain vanities, and she could not see that a gigantic policeman
was in his wake, tracking him with elephantine bounds, and now and again
snatching a gasp from hurry to blow furious warnings on a whistle.

It was the sound of the whistle which opened her eyes through her ears.
She went to the door and saw him coming framed in the moonlight, his arms
pressed tightly to his sides, his head well up and his feet kicking a
mile a minute on the pavement. Behind him the whistle shrilled with
angry alarm, and the thunder of monumental feet came near as the
policeman sprinted in majesty.

As the lodger ran she looked at him. He was a long-legged, young man
with a pleasant, clean-shaven face. His eyes met hers, and, although he
grinned anxiously, she saw that he was frightened. That frightened smile
gripped her and she panted noiselessly, "Oh, run, run!"

As he drew level he fixed his gaze on her, and, stopping suddenly, he
ducked under her arm and was inside the house in a twinkling.

The poor lady's inside curled up in fear and had started to uncurl in
screams when she felt a hand laid gently on her arm, and, "Don't make a
noise, or I'm caught," said a voice, whereupon, and with exceeding
difficulty, she closed her mouth while the scream went sizzling through
her teeth in little gasps. But now the enemy appeared round the corner,
tooting incessantly on his whistle, and whacking sparks from the
cobblestones as he ran. Behind her she could hear the laboured breathing
of a spent runner. The lodger was kneeling at her skirts: he caught her
hand and pressed his face against it entreatingly--

The policeman drew near--

"Did you see a fellow skedaddling along here, ma'am?" said he.

She hesitated for only a moment and then, pointing to a laneway opposite,
replied--

"He went up there."

"Thank you, ma'am," said the policeman with a genial smile, and he
sprinted up the laneway whistling cheerily.

She turned to the lodger--

"You had better go now," said she.

He looked at her ruefully and hesitated--

"If I go now," he replied, "I'll be caught and get a month. I'll have to
eat skilly, you know, and pick oakum, and get my hair cut."

She looked at his hair--it was brown and wavy, just at his ears it
crisped into tiny curls, and she thought it would be a great pity to cut
it. He bore her scrutiny well, with just a trifle of embarrassment and a
shyly humorous eye--

"You ar