to suit your wits, sir,' said Miss Abbey. 'What have
you got in hand now?'

'Thanking you for your compliment: not much, Miss Abbey,' was Mr
Inspector's rejoinder.

'Who have you got in Cosy?' asked Miss Abbey.

'Only a gentleman and his wife, Miss.'

'And who are they? If one may ask it without detriment to your deep
plans in the interests of the honest public?' said Miss Abbey, proud of
Mr Inspector as an administrative genius.

'They are strangers in this part of the town, Miss Abbey. They are
waiting till I shall want the gentleman to show himself somewhere, for
half a moment.'

'While they're waiting,' said Miss Abbey, 'couldn't you join us?'

Mr Inspector immediately slipped into the bar, and sat down at the side
of the half-door, with his back towards the passage, and directly facing
the two guests. 'I don't take my supper till later in the night,' said
he, 'and therefore I won't disturb the compactness of the table. But
I'll take a glass of flip, if that's flip in the jug in the fender.'

'That's flip,' replied Miss Abbey, 'and it's my making, and if even you
can find out better, I shall be glad to know where.' Filling him, with
hospitable hands, a steaming tumbler, Miss Abbey replaced the jug by
the fire; the company not having yet arrived at the flip-stage of their
supper, but being as yet skirmishing with strong ale.

'Ah--h!' cried Mr Inspector. 'That's the smack! There's not a Detective
in the Force, Miss Abbey, that could find out better stuff than that.'

'Glad to hear you say so,' rejoined Miss Abbey. 'You ought to know, if
anybody does.'

'Mr Job Potterson,' Mr Inspector continued, 'I drink your health. Mr
Jacob Kibble, I drink yours. Hope you have made a prosperous voyage
home, gentlemen both.'

Mr Kibble, an unctuous broad man of few words and many mouthfuls, said,
more briefly than pointedly, raising his ale to his lips: 'Same to you.'
Mr Job Potterson, a semi-seafaring man of obliging demeanour, said,
'Thank you, sir.'

'Lord bless my soul and body!' cried Mr Inspector. 'Talk of trades, Miss
Abbey, and the way they set their marks on men' (a subject which nobody
had approached); 'who wouldn't know your brother to be a Steward!
There's a bright and ready twinkle in his eye, there's a neatness in his
action, there's a smartness in his figure, there's an air of reliability
about him in case you wanted a basin, which points out the steward! And
Mr Kibble; ain't he Passenger, all over? Wh