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Page 7
* * * * *
THE TWO CONSTABLES.
It happened one evening when my wife was staying away with her mother,
in the dark months of last winter, when we were without servants, and
I was glad to have received an invitation from my neighbour Jones to
dinner.
He and his wife welcomed me warmly, and their rather unintelligent
maid had just brought in the saddle of mutton--a great weakness of
mine--when we heard a firm knock on the hall door. She returned to say
that someone wanted to speak to Mr. Brown immediately. "Who is it?"
I demanded. "I don't know, Sir," said the girl, "but he looks like a
policeman."
"I hope nothing has happened to your wife," said Mrs. J. anxiously.
"Or her mother," added Jones rather cynically.
The man at the door was certainly a policeman, and an elderly one, and
had probably been recalled from pension when the War broke out.
"Good evening, Sir," he said, staring hard at me. "Are you
Mr. Brown"--I nodded--"of Myrtle Villa, next door"--he eyed me
suspiciously--"No. 17?"
"Yes, yes," I said impatiently; "what of it?"
"I must ask you for your name and address, Sir," pulling out his
note-book, "for showing a strong light at the back of the 'ouse at 8
P.M."
"That's all nonsense," I answered impatiently; "the house is empty."
"Excuse me, Sir, I saw it myself from the road at the back and came
straight round," said he with his notebook ready.
"But it can't be," I said, getting annoyed.
At this moment a Special came running down the path. "They're coming,"
he panted.
"Who are?" I asked. "No one's been invited but myself."
"The engines."
"But I haven't ordered any," said I.
"I gave the alarm myself," he added proudly.
Jones's rather unintelligent maid had been standing by my side the
whole time. "Excuse me, Sir," she said, "I don't know, but I think
there's something wrong with your 'ouse--the little room at the back,
where you sit and smoke of an evenin'. There's been a big light there
for some time--a wobbly one. I don't know, Sir, but I think the 'ouse
is a-fire."
"_What?_" I yelled, and dashed aside the two varieties of
constabulary. Yes, it was all true. The strong light at the back of
the house--a wobbly one--was rapidly becoming a glow in the heavens,
as they say in journalese. I stood and looked at it, staggered for the
moment, when I heard a cheer and saw the engines coming. I dashed
for my front-door, but found myself forcibly dragged back. It was the
Special, who seemed to be having the time of his life.
"No one allowed to enter a burning building," said he importantly.
"But I must," I cried; "there are some valuable papers----"
"No one allowed to enter," he repeated firmly--he seemed to have
learned it by heart--"except the firemen and police."
"Well, you go in and get them then. I'll----"
"Pass along, please," he said quite suddenly, as a new phase of his
duties seemed to occur to him, and I found myself edged back towards
the crowd.
Now I had to have those papers, and an idea occurred to me, so I
stopped. "I say, how about your dinner? You'll miss it altogether. I
don't want to keep you. Perhaps if you hurry off at once----"
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