when he sees one."

"Was he--" I began, and corrected myself. "Was Mr. Collingwood
drunk?--strictly between ourselves, as you put it."

"No, sir." The honest man gave his verdict slowly. "I shan't be
called for evidence: but I seen him and talked with him. Sober and
bright, sir; and, when I left, in the best of sperrits. But I
wouldn't say as how he hadn't been more than happy earlier in the
evening."

"Thank you, Constable," said I. "You'll find a decanter, a syphon,
and a glass set out for the prodigal's return, all on the table in
the next room. Possibly you'll discover what to do with them while I
dress. Smithers, turn on the light out there, and get me a taxi if
you can. For I suppose," said I to the constable, "this means that
I've to turn out and go with you?"

"I am afraid so, sir, and thanking you kindly. But as for the taxi,
I came in one and took the liberty to keep it waiting--at this hour."

"Very thoughtful of you," said I, with a look at my watch. The time
was 12.50.

"Not at all, sir. Mr. Collingwood turned out the loose change in his
pocket and told me not to spare expense. Here it is, sir--one pound,
seventeen--and I'd be glad if you took it and paid the whole fare at
the end of the run."

"Good," said I, amused. "Jimmy is obviously sober. I never knew him
drunk--really drunk--for that matter." I had my legs out of bed by
this time, and the constable was bashfully withdrawing, Smithers
having turned on the lights in the outer room. "Stop a moment," I
commanded. "You may not believe it, but I'm a child at this game.
How much money shall I have to take? . . . I don't know that I have
more than a tenner loose about me--unless I can raise something off
Smithers."

The constable relaxed his face into a smile, or something approaching
one. "There is no money needed--not at this hour of the night.
Your recognisances, Sir Roderick--for a fiver or so, if you ask me.
But--" and here he hesitated.

"Well?"

"There's the other gentleman, sir. Mr. Collingwood _did_ mention--"

"Oh, did he?" I cut in. "It was silly, maybe, to have forgotten him
all this time--I'm a sound sleeper; and even when awake my mind moves
slowly. But who the Hades is this other gentleman?"

"When arrested, sir, he gave his name as Martin Frobisher," said the
constable with just a tremor of the eyelids, "and his address as
North-West Passage; he wouldn't say more definitely. At the station
he asked leav