"It’s not Wilkins," whispered Templeton. "I never saw him dressed like that." "Then it’s a burglar," replied Eves. "Nab him!" They moved on tip-toe to the door. Templeton grasped the handle, murmuring: "I’ll turn it suddenly—then make a dash!" There was absolute quiet all around, and the sound of jingling keys came faintly through the door. After a few moments’ pause Templeton turned the handle noiselessly, and pushed the door open. The damp weather had, however, swollen the timber, and the slight sound it made as it strained against the door-post attracted the attention of the man beyond. Still stooping over the drawer, he turned his head sharply. "My hat! Noakes!" muttered Eves. Springing into the shop past Templeton, who had halted on recognising Noakes, as if to consider matters, Eves dashed at the waterproofed figure. The moment’s warning had enabled Noakes to prepare for attack. He projected a bony shoulder, prevented Eves from getting the clutch he intended, and made a rush towards the door. "Collar him, Bob!" cried Eves. During the next minute there was a rough-and-tumble in which Noakes’s legs played as free a part as was possible to a man encased in a long waterproof. He displayed astounding agility in evading close action, and it was not until Eves caught him by the heel as he kicked out that he was brought to the ground. "I’ll sit on him," said Eves. "Ring up the police station, Bob, and ask them to send a constable to arrest a burglar." "But are you sure—" Templeton began. "Don’t argue," said Eves. "He’s a desperate character; I can hardly hold him." Templeton went to the telephone, lifted the receiver, then turned again towards Eves. "Don’t you think, as it’s Mr. Noakes——" he said. "Mr. Noakes! The Mayor of Pudlington?" interrupted Eves. "Picking locks! Nonsense! Ring up at once, Bob, and then come and help: the ruffian will be too much for me, just out of hospital." Templeton gave the message. "They’ll send a man at once. He’ll be here in about ten minutes," he reported. "Are you sure it isn’t Mr. Noakes? I could have sworn I recognised him." "So I am—so I am," panted the prisoner, who had hitherto struggled in silence. "What the Turk do ’ee mean by assaulting me—murderous assault—Mayor of Pudlington?" "Now, now, don’t be rash!" said Eves. "You won’t make matters any better by pretending to be our worthy mayor. He won’t like that, you know, when you’re brought into court to-morrow. I shall have to give evidence, and when I tell him that the fellow caught rifling a drawer took his name in vain——" "But I be the mayor—Philemon Noakes; and I’ll send you to jail for assault and battery, without the option of a fine. Let me go! I’m the mayor, I tell ’ee!" "I really think he’s telling the truth," said Templeton. Just then Noakes, kicking out, dealt Templeton a heavy blow on the ankle. "You had better lie still, whoever you are!" said the latter, warmly. "Violence won’t help you!"