Mr.
Jenkins shifted in his seat and exchanged glances with Mr. Gunnill.
[Illustration: "From the kitchen came sounds of hammering."]
"He's a clever fellow," said that gentleman, hopefully. "You should hear
him imitate a canary; life-like it is."
Mr. Jenkins was about to make a hasty and obvious rejoinder, when the
kitchen door opened and Selina emerged, followed by Drill. The snarl
which the constable had prepared died away in a murmur of astonishment as
he took the helmet. It looked as good as ever.
He turned it over and over in amaze, and looked in vain for any signs of
the disastrous cracks. It was stiff and upright. He looked at the
number: it was his own. His eyes round with astonishment he tried it on,
and then his face relaxed.
"It don't fit as well as it did," he said.
"Well, upon my word, some people are never satisfied," said the indignant
Drill. "There isn't another man in England could have done it better."
"I'm not grumbling," said the constable, hastily; "it's a wonderful piece
o' work. Wonderful! I can't even see where it was broke. How on earth
did you do it?"
Drill shook his head. "It's a secret process," he said, slowly. "I
might want to go into the hat trade some day, and I'm not going to give
things away.
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