But the story was too good to remain untold.
"It'll take the X Division twenty years to live it down." Kelly throbbed and gurgled like a donkey-engine as he fixed his youthful colleague with a somber eye. "This young feller, what do you think he did last week?"
"The kettle will soon boil, Joe."
"Harriet!"—the rich rolling voice thrilled dramatically—"about midnight, last Monday week as ever was, this smart young officer saw an old party in an eyeglass and a topper and a bit o' fur round his overcoat, standin' on the curb at Piccadilly Circus. He strolls up, taps him on the shoulder, charges him with loitering with intent and runs him in."
"Here's your tea, Joe." The voice was sweetly polite.
"And who do you think the old party was, my gal? Only a Director of the Bank of England—that's all. The rest of the Force is guying us proper. They want to know when we are going to lock up the Governor."
"Joe, your tea!"
"We'll never get over it, gal, not in my time. Scotchie, you are too ambitious. There isn't scope for your abilities in the Metropolitan Force. Turn your attention to some other branch of the law. You ought to take chambers in the Temple, you ought, my lad."
But in answer to the look in the eyes of Harriet, her brother-in-law checked the laugh that rose again to his lips. There was a strange anxiety upon her face, an anxiety that was now in some way communicated to him. It was clear from the glances they exchanged and the silence that ensued, that both were much embarrassed by the presence of Maclean.
However, after the young man had entered upon a
