with frequent lapses into
complete insensibility--and the marvel was not that he occasionally
uttered some wandering, half-coherent sentences, but that he was able to
speak at all.

"My poor chap," Cleek said feelingly, as he administered a stimulant by
which the keeper's flagging energies were whipped up. "Try to
speak--try to answer a question or two--try--for a woman's sake."

"A woman's?" he mumbled feebly. "Aye, my poor wife-- Gawd 'elp her--her
and the kiddies! And me a-goin' 'ome, sir--me a-gettin' of my death like
this for jist a-doin' of my duty--doin' of it honest and true, sir, for
king and country!"

"And both letting you face the nightly peril of it unarmed!" said Cleek
bitterly; then, passionately: "Will you wake up, England? Will you wake
up and do justice by these men who give their lives that you may sleep
in peace, and who, with a badge and a truncheon and two willing hands,
must fight your criminal classes and keep law and order for you?"

"Aye--some day, may like--some day, sir," mumbled the dwindling voice;
then it trailed off and sank sobbingly away, and Cleek had to administer
more brandy to bolster up his fading strength.

"A word," he said eagerly, the hammering of his heart getting into his
voice and making it unsteady. "Just one word, but much depends upon it.
Tell me--now--before anybody comes: Who did it? Man or woman?"

"I dunno, sir-- I didn't see. The mist was thick. Whoever it was, come
at me from behind. But there was two--there must have been two--one as I
heard a-runnin' toward me when I challenged, sir, and--and got shot down
like a dog; and 'tother as come at me in the back when I sang out
'Murder' and blew my whistle for help. But men or women, whichever it
may a-been, I never see, sir, never. But one woman _was_ on the Common
to-night. A lady, sir--oh, yes, a lady indeed."

"A lady? Speak to me--quickly--my friend is returning. What did that
lady wear? Was it a pink dress? Or couldn't you see?"

"Oh, yes, I could see--she came near me--she spoke in passing. She gave
me a bit of money, sir, and asked me not to mention about her bein' out
there to-night and me havin' met her. But it wasn't a pink dress, sir;
it was green--all shiny pale green satin with sparklin' things on the
bosom and smellin' like a field o' voylits on a mornin' in May!"

The sense of unspeakable thankfulness that Cleek experienced upon
hearing that the dress of this unknown "lady" was not pink, was lost