Occasionally his hand would wander in the direction of the left-hand pocket of his coat, when, feeling the Professor's watch and chain and the note to the police, his face would irradiate joy. He _must_ think, however. He could not continue walking and whistling for ever. He must think; and with Bindle to think it was necessary that he should remain still. This he dare not do for fear of arousing suspicion. Once in turning a corner suddenly he almost collided with a policeman. "Tryin' to wake the whole place?" enquired the policeman. "Where are you goin', makin' such a row about it?" "To 'ell, same as you, ole sport," responded Bindle cheerfully. "Goo'-night! See yer later!" The policeman grumbled something and passed on. Presently Bindle saw the lights of a coffee-stall, towards which he walked briskly. Over two sausages and some bacon he reviewed the situation, chaffed the proprietor, and treated to a meal the bedraggled remnants of what had once been a woman, whom he found hovering hungrily about the stall. When he eventually said "Good-mornin'" to his host and guest, he had worked out his plan of campaign. He walked in the direction of the police-station, having first resumed his bandages. Day was beginning to break. Seeing a man approaching him, he quickened his pace to a run. As he came within a few yards of the man, who appeared to be of the labourer class, he slackened his pace, then stopped abruptly. "Where's the police-station, mate?" he enquired, panting as if with great exertion. "The police-station?" repeated the man curiously. "Straight up the road, then third or fourth to the right, then----" "Is it miles?" panted Bindle. "'Bout quarter of a mile, not more. What's up, mate?" the man enquired. "Been 'urt?" "Quarter of a mile, and 'im bleedin' to death! I got to fetch a doctor," Bindle continued. Then, as if with sudden inspiration, he thrust Professor Conti's letter into the astonished man's hands. "In the name of the law I order yer to take this letter to the police-station. I'll go for a doctor. Quick--it's burglary and murder! 'Ere's a bob for yer trouble." With that, Bindle sped back the way he had come, praying that no policeman might see him and give chase. The workman stood looking stupidly from the letter and the shilling in his hand to the retreating form of Bindle. After a moment's hesitation he pocketed the coin, and with a grumble in his throat and the fear of the Law in his heart, he turned and slowly made his way to the police-station. II When Professor Conti awoke on the morning of the burglary, he was horrified to find, from the medley of sounds without, produced by hooters and bells, that it was half-past eight. Jumping quickly out of bed, he shaved, washed, and dressed with great expedition, and before nine was in a telephone call-box ringing up the police. On learning that his note had been duly delivered, he smiled his satisfaction into the telephone mouthpiece.