A MURDER
You remember when Raggett's orchard was robbed—who found the thieves?"
"You did, of course; I 'm sure you did," said Mrs. Wiseman, jigging her youngest on her knee, the youngest not having arrived at the age where he recognized the necessity for expressing his desires in whispers.
"Who caught them three-card-trick men after the Lewes races last year?" went on Constable Wiseman passionately. "Who has had more summonses for smoking chimneys than any other man in the force? Some people," he added, as he rose heavily and took down his tunic, which hung on the wall—"some people would ask for promotion; but I 'm perfectly satisfied. I 'm not one of those ambitious sort. Why, I wouldn't know at all what to do with myself if they made me a sergeant."
"You deserve it, anyway," said Mrs. Wiseman.
"I don't deserve anything I don't want," said Mr. Wiseman loftily. "I 've learned a
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