ve said it all over again," interrupted Mrs Larrabel, with
an unwonted frown.

"But then," continued Stickler, regardless of the interruption, "a
broken leg, or a rifled pocket and stunned person, or a cut windpipe,
may be applicable to the argument in hand without being applied to Mr
Twitter."

"Surely," said Mrs Loper, who deemed the reply unanswerable.

In this edifying strain the conversation flowed on until the evening
grew late and the party began to grow alarmed.

"I do hope nothing has happened to him," said Mrs Loper, with a
solemnised face.

"I think not. I have seen him come home much later than this--though
not often," said the hostess, the only one of the party who seemed quite
at ease, and who led the conversation back again into shallower
channels.

As the night advanced, however, the alarm became deeper, and it was even
suggested by Mrs Loper that Crackaby should proceed to Twitter's
office--a distance of three miles--to inquire whether and when he had
left; while the smiling Mrs Larrabel proposed to send information to
the headquarters of the police in Scotland Yard, because the police knew
everything, and could find out anything.

"You have no idea, my dear," she said, "how clever they are at Scotland
Yard. Would you believe it, I left my umbrellar the other day in a cab,
and I didn't know the number of the cab, for numbers won't remain in my
head, nor the look of the cabman, for I never look at cabmen, they are
so rude sometimes. I didn't even remember the place where I got into
the cab, for I can't remember places when I've to go to so many, so I
gave up my umbrellar for lost and was going away, when a policeman
stepped up to me and asked in a very civil tone if I had lost anything.
He was so polite and pleasant that I told him of my loss, though I knew
it would do me no good, as he had not seen the cab or the cabman.

"`I think, madam,' he said, `that if you go down to Scotland Yard
to-morrow morning, you may probably find it there.'

"`Young man,' said I, `do you take me for a fool!'

"`No, madam, I don't,' he replied.

"`Or do you take my umbrellar for a fool,' said I, `that it should walk
down to Scotland Yard of its own accord and wait there till I called for
it?'

"`Certainly not, madam,' he answered with such a pleasant smile that I
half forgave him.

"`Nevertheless if you happen to be in the neighbourhood of Scotland Yard
to-morrow,' he added, `it might be as well to call