red himself out another glass of beer and resumed his supper with
relish. Conversation turned on the weather, and from that to the price
of potatoes. Frantic efforts on the part of the prisoner to join in the
conversation and give it a more personal turn were disregarded. Finally
he began to kick with monotonous persistency on the door.

"Stop it!" shouted Mr. Cooper.

"I won't," said Mr. Simpson.

The noise became unendurable. Mr. Cooper, who had just lit his pipe,
laid it on the table and looked round at his companions.

"He'll have the door down soon," he said, rising. "Halloa, there!"

"Halloa!" said the other.

"You say you're Bill Simpson," said Mr. Cooper, holding up a forefinger
at Mrs. Simpson, who was about to interrupt. "If you are, tell us
something you know that only you could know; something we know, so as to
identify you. Things about your past."

A strange noise sounded behind the door.

"Sounds as though he is smacking his lips," said Mrs. Cooper to her
sister-in-law, who was eyeing Mr. Cooper restlessly.

"Very good," said Mr. Simpson; "I agree. Who is there?"

"Me and my wife and Mrs. Simpson," said Mr. Cooper.

"He is smacking his lips," whispered Mrs. Cooper. "Having a go at the
beer, perhaps."

"Let's go back fifteen years," said Mr. Simpson in meditative tones.
"Do you remember that girl with copper-coloured hair that used to live
in John Street?"

"No!" said Mr. Cooper, loudly and suddenly.

"Do you remember coming to me one day--two days after Valentine Day, it
was--white as chalk and shaking like a leaf, and--"

"NO!" roared Mr. Cooper.

"Very well, I must try something else, then," said Mr. Simpson,
philosophically. "Carry your mind back ten years, Bob Cooper--"

"Look here!" said Mr. Cooper, turning round with a ghastly smile.
"We'd better get off home, Mary. I don't like interfering in other
people's concerns. Never did."

"You stay where you are," said his wife.

"Ten years," repeated the voice behind the door. "There was a new
barmaid at the Crown, and one night you----"

"If I listen to any more of this nonsense I shall burst," remarked Mr.
Cooper, plaintively.

"Go on," prompted Mrs. Cooper, grimly. "One night----"

"Never mind," said Mr. Simpson. "It doesn't matter. But does he
identify me? Because if not I've got a lot more things I can try."

The harassed Mr. Cooper looked around appealingly.

"How do you expect me to recognize you--"