er
from the pursuing crowd.

"Struggle--struggle! Don't you hear, you idiot?" broke in the red-headed
man irritably. "You are being devilishly well paid for it, so for
goodness' sake make it look real. That's it! Bully boy! Now, once more
to the right, then loosen your grip so that I can push you away and make
a feint of punching you off. All ready there, Marguerite? Keep a clear
space about her, gentlemen. Ready with the motor, chauffeur? All right.
Now, then, Bobby, fall back, and mind your eye when I hit out, old chap.
One, two, three--here goes!"

With that he pushed the chop-fallen Collins from him, made a feint of
punching his head as he reeled back, then sprang toward the spot where
the Frenchwoman stood, and gave a finish to the adventure that was
highly dramatic and decidedly theatrical. For "mademoiselle," seeing him
approach her, struck a pose, threw out her arms, gathered him into
them--to the exceeding enjoyment of the laughing throng--then both
looked back and behaved as people do on the stage when "pursued,"
gesticulated extravagantly, and, rushing to the waiting motor, jumped
into it.

"Many thanks, Bobby; many thanks, everybody!" sang out the red-headed
man. "Let her go, chauffeur. The camera men will pick us up again at
Whitehall, in a few minutes' time."

"Right you are, sir," responded the chauffeur gaily. Then "toot-toot"
went the motor-horn as the gentleman in grey closed the door upon
himself and his companion, and the vehicle, darting forward, sped down
the Embankment in the exact direction whence the man himself had
originally come, and, passing directly through that belated portion of
the hurrying crowd to whom the end of the adventure was not yet known,
flew on and--vanished.

And Collins, stooping to pick up the half-sovereign that had been thrown
him, felt that after all it was a poor price to receive for all the
jeers and gibes of the assembled onlookers.

"Smart capture, Bobby, wasn't it?" sang out a deriding voice that set
the crowd jeering anew. "You'll git promoted, you will! See it in all
the evenin' papers--oh, yus! ''Orrible hand-to-hand struggle with a
desperado. Brave constable has 'arf a quid's worth out of an infuriated
ruffin!' My hat! won't your missis be proud when you take her to see
that bloomin' film?"

"Move on, now, move on!" said Collins, recovering his dignity, and
asserting it with a vim. "Look here, cabby, I don't take it kind of you
to laugh like that; they