s that Bindle had done and said that day.

As they turned into Downing Street, Bindle was a little disappointed
at finding only two constables; but he was relieved a a moment later
by the sight of the inspector to whom he had spoken, hurrying through
the archway, leading from the Foreign Office.

"Where are you going to?" called out the inspector to Tippitt, taking
no notice of Bindle.

Tippitt jerked his thumb in the direction of Bindle, who came forward
at that moment.

"Number 110, Downing Street, sir," responded Bindle. "Some furniture
for Mr. Llewellyn John."

"Right!" said the inspector loudly; "but you'll have to wait a few
minutes until that motor-car has gone."

Bindle winked as a sign of his acceptance of the mythical motor-car
and, drawing the key of the pantechnicon from his pocket, showed it to
the inspector, who, by closing his eyes and slightly bending his head,
indicated that he understood.

Tippitt had decided that everybody was mad this morning. The police
inspector's reference to a motor-car outside Number 110, whereas his
eyes told him that there was nothing there but roadway and dust, had
seriously undermined his respect for the Metropolitan Police Force.
However, it was not his business. He was there to drive the horses,
who in turn drew a van to a given spot; there his responsibility
ended.

After a wait of nearly ten minutes, the inspector re-appeared. "It's
all clear now," he remarked. "Draw up."

As the pantechnicon pulled up in front of Number 110, Bindle glanced
up at the house and saw Mr. Llewellyn John looking out of one of the
first-floor windows. He had evidently been apprised of what was taking
place.

Bindle noticed that the doors of Number 110 and 111 were both ajar. He
was, however, a little puzzled at the absence of police. The two
uniformed constables had been reinforced by three others, and there
were two obviously plain-clothes men loitering about.

"Now then, Tippy, get ready to lend me a 'and with this 'ere
furniture," called out Bindle as he proceeded to insert the key in the
padlock that fastened the doors of the van.

Tippitt, who had climbed down, was standing close to the tail-board
facing the doors.

With a quick movement Bindle released the padlock from the hasp and,
lifting the bar, stepped aside with an agility that was astonishing.

"Votes for Women! Votes for Women!! Votes for Women!!!"

Suddenly the placid quiet of Downing Street was shattered. Th