"What's it matter what 'e wants, you chump? You're a blinkin' landowner now, an' p'licemen don't matter. Be 'aughty with 'im an' kick 'im out." "_You'd_ better see 'im, Bill." "Me?" Bill sank back once more on his cushions. "Why should I do yer dirty work? I'm quite comfortable as I am. See 'im yerself, an' be 'aughty with 'im. Call 'im 'My man'! Probably 'e wants a subscription. Give 'im 'arf-a-crown. On'y you'd better 'urry down before Mustapha gets 'old of 'im an' gives 'im a few bags o' gold; that'd put us fair in the cart. Keep the fan goin', Lucy, my dear." Alf tore down the stairs and met P.C. Jobling on the steps of the Manor. Each made great outward show of boldness, but it would be difficult to say which felt less bold in his heart. There was an awkward pause. "W--w--well," said Alf at last, mindful of Bill's advice. "Wh--what can I do for you--er--my man?" The words were haughty enough to show the most imposing of policemen his position in the scheme of things; but the tone in which they were uttered entirely spoilt their effect. P.C. Jobling took heart of grace and puffed out his admirably developed chest. "It is my dooty to inform you, sir, that you 'ave several exceedingly bright lights showin' from yer 'ouse at nights, contrary to regulations." "I'm--I'm sorry," stammered Alf, relieved that the policeman had come on so trivial an errand, but disturbed at having incurred the notice of the Law. "If you'll wait 'arf a second I'll 'ave my butler in an' tick 'im orf for it. 'Ere, miss," he said to a dusky but decorously clad maidservant, "send Mr. Farr. Savvy?" The maid, catching the name, sped off. P.C. Jobling, feeling now quite reassured that his life was in no danger, began to sigh (like Alexander the Great) for fresh worlds to conquer. He knew that if he penetrated no further than the Manor's outer defenses it would go hard with him when next he faced his aunt. He took off his helmet and mopped his moist brow. "'Ot day, ain't it, sir?" he said. Alf, whose chief rule in life had been always to keep on the right side of the law, swallowed the bait whole. "It is 'ot," he agreed. "'Ow'd a glass o' beer be, eh?" "You're very kind, sir." "Not a bit--not a bit, my man." This time the tone was much better. "Farr," he continued as that functionary appeared. "'Ere's the police been about the lights. It's quite time as you knew as 'ow we don't 'ave to show no lights at night. 'Ave 'em covered to-night, or I'll know the reason why. An' bring this gentleman a pint of beer." Mustapha bowed gravely and departed. Now was the crafty Jobling's opportunity. "Oh, no, sir," he said. "I couldn't let 'im 'ave all that trouble, sir, I'll go into the kitchen myself, sir."