ndle half rose as the thought struck
her.

"Who, Guppy?" interrogated Bindle.

"Yes, Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle eagerly.

"Guppy ain't never comin' back to my place," Bindle announced with
decision.

"Where's he to sleep then?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.

"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "by wot I last see of 'im, 'e
ain't goin' to sleep much anywhere for some time"; and he again
launched into a harrowing description of Mr. Gupperduck's plight when
the police rescued him from the crowd.

"I'll nurse him!" announced Mrs. Bindle with the air of a Martha.

"You won't do no such thing, Mrs. B."

Even Mrs. Hearty looked at Bindle, arrested by the unwonted
determination in his voice. "You jest remember this, Mrs. B.,"
continued Bindle, "if ever I catches Mr. Josiah Gupperduck, or any
other cove wot loves Germans as if they was 'ymns or beer, round my
place, things'll 'appen. Wot they done to 'im on the 'Eath won't be
nothink to wot I'll do to 'im in Fenton Street."

"You're a brute, Bindle!" was Mrs. Bindle's comment.

"That may be; but you jest get 'is duds packed up, _includin'_ Wheezy
Willie, an' give 'em to 'im when 'e calls. I ain't goin' to 'ave no
German spies round my back-yard. I ain't got no money to put in
tanks," Bindle added, "but I still got a fist to knock down a cove wot
talks about peace." Bindle rose and yawned. "Now I'm orf. Comin', Mrs.
B.?" he enquired.

"No, I'm not. I want to talk to Mr. Hearty," said Mrs. Bindle angrily.

"Well, s'long, all!" and Bindle went out, leaving Mrs. Bindle and Mr.
Hearty to mourn over the fallen Hector.

A minute later the door half opened and Bindle thrust his head round
the corner. "Don't forget, Mrs. B.," he said with a grin, "if I see
Guppy in Fenton Street, I'll camelflage 'im, I will;" and with that he
was gone.

"I suppose," he remarked meditatively as he walked across Putney
Bridge, "wot 'appened to-night is wot Guppy 'ud call 'the peace wot
passes all understandin'.'"

CHAPTER XII

THE TRAGEDY OF GIUSEPPI ANTONIO TOLMENICINO

"'Ullo, Scratcher!" cried Bindle as the swing doors of The Yellow
Ostrich were pushed open, giving entrance to a small lantern-jawed
man, with fishy eyes and a chin obviously intended for a face three
sizes larger. "Fancy meetin' you! Wot 'ave you been doin'?"

Bindle was engaged in fetching the Sunday dinner-beer according to the
time-honoured custom.

Scratcher looked moodily at the barman, ordered a glas