man's record had helped him, for he was a first-class policeman with a
nose for crime, absolutely fearless, and had, moreover, assisted in the
capture of one or two very desperate criminals who had made their way to
the south-coast town.

His last offense, however, was too grave to overlook. His inspector,
going the rounds, had missed him, and after a search he was discovered
outside a public house. It is no great crime to be found outside a
public house, particularly when an officer has a fairly extensive area
to cover, and in this respect he was well within the limits of that
area. But it must be explained that the reason the sergeant was outside
the public house was because he had challenged a fellow carouser to
fight, and at the moment he was discovered he was stripped to the waist
and setting about his task with rare workmanlike skill.

He was also drunk.

To have retained his services thereafter would have been little less
than a crying scandal. There is no doubt, however, that Sergeant Smith
had made a desperate attempt to use the influence behind him, and use it
to its fullest extent.

He had had one stormy interview with John Minute, and had planned
another. Constable Wiseman, patrolling the London Road, his mind filled
with the great news, was suddenly confronted with the object of his
thoughts. The sergeant rode up to where the constable was standing in a
professional attitude at the corner of two roads, and jumped off with
the manner of a man who has an object in view.

"Wiseman," he said--and his voice was such as to suggest that he had
been drinking again--"where will you be at ten o'clock to-night?"

Constable Wiseman raised his eyes in thought.

"At ten o'clock, Sergeant, I shall be opposite the gates of the
cemetery."

The sergeant looked round left and right.

"I am going to see Mr. Minute on a matter of business," he said, "and
you needn't mention the fact."

"I keep myself to myself," began Constable Wiseman. "What I see with one
eye goes out of the other, in the manner of speaking--"

The sergeant nodded, stepped on to his bicycle again, turned it about,
and went at full speed down the gentle incline toward Weald Lodge. He
made no secret of his visit, but rode through the wide gates up the
gravel drive to the front of the house, rang the bell, and to the
servant who answered demanded peremptorily to see Mr. Minute.

John Minute received him in the library, where the previous interview