ed over at Miss Gunnill, but that young lady, who found him
somewhat mysterious, looked away and frowned. Her father sat and
exhausted conjecture, his final conclusion being that Mr. Sims had
attacked the first policeman that had come in his way and was now
suffering the agonies of remorse.

He raised his head sharply at the sound of hurried footsteps outside.
There was a smart rap at the street door, then the handle was turned, and
the next moment, to the dismay of all present, the red and angry face of
one of Mr. Cooper's brother-constables was thrust into the room.

Mr. Gunnill gazed at it in helpless fascination. The body of the
constable garbed in plain clothes followed the face and, standing before
him in a menacing fashion, held out a broken helmet and staff.

"Have you seen these afore?" he inquired, in a terrible voice.

"No," said Mr. Gunnill, with an attempt at surprise. "What are they?"

"I'll tell you what they are," said Police-constable Jenkins,
ferociously; "they're my helmet and truncheon. You've been spoiling His
Majesty's property, and you'll be locked up."

"Yours?" said the astonished Mr. Gunnill.

"I lent 'em to young Sims, just for a joke," said the constable. "I felt
all along I was doing a silly thing."

"It's no joke," said Mr. Gunnill, severely. "I'll tell young Herbert
what I think of him trying to deceive me like that."

"Never mind about deceiving," interrupted the constable. "What are you
going to do about it?"

"What are you?" inquired Mr. Gunnill, hardily. "It seems to me it's
between you and him; you'll very likely be dismissed from the force, and
all through trying to deceive. I wash my hands of it."

"You'd no business to lend it," said Drill, interrupting the constable's
indignant retort; "especially for Sims to pretend that he had stolen it
from Cooper. It's a roundabout sort of thing, but you can't tell of Mr.
Gunnill without getting into trouble yourself."

"I shall have to put up with that," said the constable, desperately;
"it's got to be explained. It's my day-helmet, too, and the night one's
as shabby as can be. Twenty years in the force and never a mark against
my name till now."

"If you'd only keep quiet a bit instead of talking so much," said Mr.
Drill, who had been doing some hard thinking, "I might be able to help
you, p'r'aps."

"How?" inquired the constable.

"Help him if you can, Ted," said Mr. Gunnill, eagerly; "we ought all to
help oth