equently, the footsteps of passers-by upon the
flagged pavement were clearly distinguishable. It was just at the moment
when Mrs. Barnes was inserting a few fresh almonds into a somewhat
precarious tipsy cake, and Mr. Barnes was engaged with the decanting of
the port, that two pairs of footsteps, considerably heavier than those
of the ordinary promenader, paused outside and finally stopped. The gate
creaked. Mr. Barnes looked up.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "What's that? Visitors?"

They all listened. The front-door bell rang. Adolphus, in response to a
gesture from his mother, rose sulkily to his feet.

"Job I hate!" he muttered as he left the room.

The rest of the family, full of the small curiosity of people of their
class, were intent upon listening for voices outside. The demeanour of
Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, therefore, escaped their notice. It is doubtful,
in any case, whether their perceptions would have been sufficiently keen
to have enabled them to trace the workings of emotion in the countenance
of a person so magnificently endowed by Providence with the art of
subterfuge. Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald seemed simply to have stiffened in
acute and earnest attention. It was only for a moment that he hesitated.
His unfailing inspiration told him the truth!

His course of action was simple,--he rose to his feet and strolled to
the window.

"Some people who have lost their way in the fog, perhaps," he remarked.
"What a night!"

He laid his hand upon the sash--simultaneously there was a rush of
cold air into the room, a half-angry, half-frightened exclamation from
Adolphus in the passage, a scream from Miss Maud--and no Mr. Spencer
Fitzgerald! No one had time to be more than blankly astonished. The door
was opened, and a police inspector, in very nice dark braided uniform
and a peaked cap, stood in the doorway.

Mr. Barnes dropped the port, and Mrs. Barnes, emulating her daughter's
example, screamed. The inspector, as though conscious of the draught,
moved rapidly toward the window.

"You had a visitor here, Mr. Barnes," he said quickly--"a Mr. Spencer
Fitzgerald. Where is he?"

There was no one who could answer! Mr. Barnes was speechless between
the shock of the spilt port and the appearance of a couple of uniformed
policemen in his dining room. John Dory, the detective, he knew well
enough in his private capacity, but in his uniform, and attended by
policemen, he presented a new and startling appearance! Mrs. Bar