le gentleman he was, very well dressed in what you might
call the professional style; dark clothes and so forth, and a silk
top-hat; I should say about fifty years of age, with a fresh complexion
and a biggish grey moustache and a nicely rolled umbrella--quite the
little swell he was. He made for our door, and I went to the bar-window
to attend to him. He wanted to know if he could get some food, and I
said of course he could--we'd some uncommon nice chops in the house. So
he ordered three chops and setterers--and then he asked if we'd a
telephone in the house, and could he use it. And, of course, I told him
we had, and showed him where it was--after which he wanted a local
directory, and I gave him Scammond's Guide. He turned that over a bit,
and then, when he'd found what he wanted, he went to our telephone
box--which, as you're well aware, Mr. Polke, is in our front hall. And
into it he popped."

Mrs. Pratt paused a moment, and gave her listeners a knowing look, as if
she was now about to narrate the most important part of her story.

"But what you mayn't be aware of, Mr. Polke," she continued, "is that
our telephone box, which has glass panels in its upper parts, has at
this present time one of these panels broken--our pot-man did it,
carrying a plank through the hall. So that any one passing to and fro,
as it were, when anybody's using the telephone, can't help hearing a
word or two of what's being said inside. Now, of course, I was passing
in and out, giving orders for this gentleman's chops, when he was in the
box. And I heard a bit of what he said, though I didn't, naturally, hear
aught of what was said to him, nor who by. But it's in consequence of
what I did hear, and of what Tolson, the town-crier, has been shouting
down our way tonight, that I come up here to see you."

"Much obliged to you, Mrs. Pratt," said Polke. "Very glad to hear
anything that may have to do with Mr. Horbury's disappearance. Now,
what did you hear?"

"What I heard," replied the landlady, "was this here--disjointed, as you
would term it. First of all I hear the gentleman ask for 'Town 23.' Now,
of course, you know whose number that there is, Mr. Polke."

"Chestermarke's Bank," said Neale, turning to Betty.

"Chestermarke's Bank it is, sir," assented Mrs. Pratt. "Which you know
very well, as also do I, having oft called it up. Very well--I didn't
hear no more just then, me going into the dining-room to see that our
maid laid the tab