ipped out for a breath of fresh air.

It was a clear night, and all Gravelton with one exception, appeared to
have gone to bed. The exception was Police-constable Collins, and he,
after tracking the skulking figure of Mr. Blows and finally bringing it
to bay in a doorway, kept his for a fort-night. As a sensible man, Mr.
Blows took no credit to himself for the circumstance, but a natural
feeling of satisfaction at the discomfiture of a member of a force for
which he had long entertained a strong objection could not be denied.

Gravelton debated this new appearance with bated breath, and even the
purblind committee of the Camels had to alter their views. They no
longer denied the supernatural nature of the manifestations, but, with
a strange misunderstanding of Mr. Blows's desires, attributed his
restlessness to dissatisfaction with the projected tombstone, and, having
plenty of funds, amended their order for a plain stone at ten guineas to
one in pink marble at twenty-five.

"That there committee," said Mr. Blows to his wife, in a trembling voice,
as he heard of the alteration--"that there committee seem to think that
they can play about with my money as they like. You go and tell 'em you
won't 'ave it. And say you've given up the idea of going to Australia
and you want the money to open a shop with. We'll take a little pub
somewhere."

Mrs. Blows went, and returned in tears, and for two entire days her
husband, a prey to gloom, sat trying to evolve fresh and original ideas
for the possession of the money. On the evening of the second day he
became low-spirited, and going down to the kitchen took a glass from the
dresser and sat down by the beer-cask.

Almost insensibly he began to take a brighter view of things. It was
Saturday night and his wife was out. He shook his head indulgently as he
thought of her, and began to realise how foolish he had been to entrust
such a delicate mission to a woman. The Ancient Order of Camels wanted a
man to talk to them--a man who knew the world and could assail them with
unanswerable arguments. Having applied every known test to make sure
that the cask was empty, he took his cap from a nail and sallied out into
the street.

Old Mrs. Martin, a neighbour, saw him first, and announced the fact with
a scream that brought a dozen people round her. Bereft of speech, she
mouthed dumbly at Mr. Blows.

"I ain't touch--touched her," said that gentleman, earnestly. "I ain't--