"That's the puzzle," he said, softly.
He smiled over at Miss Gunnill, but that young lady, who found him
somewhat mysterious, looked away and frowned. Her father sat and
exhausted conjecture, his final conclusion being that Mr. Sims had
attacked the first policeman that had come in his way and was now
suffering the agonies of remorse.
He raised his head sharply at the sound of hurried footsteps outside.
There was a smart rap at the street door, then the handle was turned, and
the next moment, to the dismay of all present, the red and angry face of
one of Mr. Cooper's brother-constables was thrust into the room.
Mr. Gunnill gazed at it in helpless fascination. The body of the
constable garbed in plain clothes followed the face and, standing before
him in a menacing fashion, held out a broken helmet and staff.
"Have you seen these afore?" he inquired, in a terrible voice.
"No," said Mr. Gunnill, with an attempt at surprise. "What are they?"
"I'll tell you what they are," said Police-constable Jenkins,
ferociously; "they're my helmet and truncheon. You've been spoiling His
Majesty's property, and you'll be locked up."
"Yours?" said the astonished Mr. Gunnill.
"I lent 'em to young Sims, just for a joke," said the constable.
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