rnoon's treat for you, sir," remarked Bindle to
the inspector, when the last of the raiders had disappeared. "Mr. John
seemed to enjoy it." Bindle indicated the first-floor window of Number
110, with a jerk of his thumb.

"Was that your doing?" enquired the inspector.

"Well," replied Bindle, "it was an' it wasn't," and he explained how
it had all come about.

"And what am I goin' to do with this 'ere van?" he queried.

"Better run it round to 'the Yard,' then you can take home the
horses," replied the inspector.

"Right-o!" said Bindle.

"By the way," added the inspector, "I'm coming round myself. I should
like you to see Chief-Inspector Gunny."

Bindle nodded cheerily. "'Ullo, Tippy!" he cried, "knocked you down,
didn't they?"

Tippitt grinned, he had thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment and bore
no malice.

"That's why you got the watering-can, mate?" he remarked.

Bindle surveyed him with mock admiration.

"Now ain't you clever," he remarked. "Fancy you a-seein' that. There
ain't no spots on you, Tippy;" whereat Tippitt grinned again modestly.

That afternoon Bindle was introduced to the Famous Chief-Inspector
Gunny of Scotland Yard, who, for years previously, had been the
head of the department dealing with the suffragist demonstrations.
He was a genial, large-hearted man, who had earned the respect,
almost the liking of those whose official enemy he was. When he
heard Bindle's story, he roared with laughter, and insisted that
Bindle should himself tell about the Black and White Raiders to the
Deputy-Commissioner and the Chief Constable. It was nearly four
o'clock when Bindle left Scotland Yard, smoking a big cigar with
which the Deputy-Commissioner had presented him.

Chief-Inspector Gunny's last words had been, "Well, Bindle, you've
done us a great service. If at any time I can help you, let me know."

"Now I wonder wot 'e meant by that," murmured Bindle to himself. "Does
it mean that I can 'ave a little flutter at bigamy, or that I can
break 'Earty's bloomin' 'ead and not get pinched for it. Still," he
remarked cheerfully, "it's been an 'appy day, a very 'appy day," and
he turned in at The Feathers and ordered "somethink to wet this 'ere
cigar."

CHAPTER III

THE AIR-RAID

I

"There wasn't no 'ome life in England until the Kayser started
a-droppin' bombs in people's back-yards," remarked Bindle oracularly.
"Funny thing," he continued, "'ow everybody seemed to find out 'ow
fond t