here you're guilty because you have gone away. Oh, I know them! If
they could have seen their way to clap me in quod, they'd ha' done it.
Lucky I know the number of the cabman who took me to Euston before five
this morning."

"If they clapped you in quod," the interviewer reported himself as
facetiously observing, "the prisoners would be on strike in a week."

"Yes, but there would be so many black-legs ready to take their places,"
Mortlake flashed back, "that I'm afraid it 'ould be no go. But do excuse
me. I am so upset about my friend. I'm afraid he has left England, and I
have to make inquiries; and now there's poor Constant gone--horrible!
horrible! and I'm due in London at the inquest. I must really run away.
Good-by. Tell your readers it's all a police grudge."

"One last word, Mr. Mortlake, if you please. Is it true that you were
billed to preside at a great meeting of clerks at St. James' Hall
between one and two to-day to protest against the German invasion?"

"Whew! so I had. But the beggars arrested me just before one, when I was
going to wire, and then the news of poor Constant's end drove it out of
my head. What a nuisance! Lord, how troubles do come together! Well,
good-by, send me a copy of the paper."

Tom Mortlake's evidence at the inquest added little beyond this to the
public knowledge of his movements on the morning of the Mystery. The
cabman who drove him to Euston had written indignantly to the papers to
say that he had picked up his celebrated fare at Bow Railway Station at
about half-past four a. m., and the arrest was a deliberate insult to
democracy, and he offered to make an affidavit to that effect, leaving
it dubious to which effect. But Scotland Yard betrayed no itch for the
affidavit in question, and No. 2,138 subsided again into the obscurity
of his rank. Mortlake--whose face was very pale below the black mane
brushed back from his fine forehead--gave his evidence in low,
sympathetic tones. He had known the deceased for over a year, coming
constantly across him in their common political and social work, and had
found the furnished rooms for him in Glover Street at his own request,
they just being to let when Constant resolved to leave his rooms at
Oxford House in Bethnal Green and to share the actual life of the
people. The locality suited the deceased, as being near the People's
Palace. He respected and admired the deceased, whose genuine goodness
had won all hearts. The deceased was