“’Ow were you thinking of stealing it?” asked Lionel. “I was going to try to smash the window,” said Gypsy. “I’m serprised at you,” said Lionel sternly. “Think of the row you’d ’ave made, and everybody tired out wanting their night’s rest.” “I should have tried to smash it quietly,” said Gypsy. “I’m serprised at you,” said Lionel still more sternly. “You might ’ave cut your pore ’and.” He put his own hand in his pocket and gave Gypsy sixpence. “Now don’t you go making no more disturbances,” he said. “There’s a coffee stall up the street, second on the left. Move on.” “Robert,” said Gypsy warmly, “where do you live?” “Winchester Mews, N.W. 3,” said Lionel, “and my name’s Lionel. Move on.” “It’s no name for the Beaten Track,” said Gypsy thoughtfully. “I don’t follow no Beaten Track,” said Lionel. “All London’s my Beat, and the Moonshiners is my mark. And as sure as my name’s wot it is, one of these fine nights I’ll run ’em to earth.” “Wouldn’t it be better,” said Gypsy, looking at the moon, “to run them to heaven?” “Wot do you take me for?” asked Lionel with dignity. “A member of the Air-Force? Move on.” Gypsy moved on, drank his coffee and ate his slab of cake in Lionel’s name, and hurried back to do his sign. But instead of saying “The Conductresses’ Feet” it now said, THE CONDUCTRESSES’ POOR FEET This human note (due entirely to Lionel) touched the General Omnibus Co.’s heart, and it convened a Board-Meeting on the spot. But long before that Gypsy had hastened home and conveyed the tidings to his fellow-conspirators. He was always a little excitable in telling a tale, and he swore that as Lionel left him he threw behind him on the pavement the shadow, not of a man, but of Scotland Yard, which by some trick of the moon with a cloud changed to the shadow of a Handley-Page, and finally spread itself to the semblance of a flying angel. Mrs. Green said, “You and your fancies, nonsense!” But the Night Watchman said, “Of course. A human being can throw any shadow he pleases, or doesn’t please. If you want to know a man, look at his shadow by moonlight.” Everybody began at once to look at everybody else’s shadow, and to hide his own; and for a little while the shadows flickered over Trafalgar Square like flowers in the wind, and birds on the wing, and swimming fish. Just as you thought you had a man he would slip his shadow into that of Nelson, or a Lion, or a Church, or a Hotel, or the National Gallery, and you lost him. Shadow Hide-and-Seek became rather a favourite pastime round the Weatherhouse after this. But to-night the Taxi-Man soon called them to order. “Enough of shadows,” he commanded. “We’re up against a danger, and it’s got to be tackled. If our work’s to go on, Lionel must be diddled.” “But who’s to diddle him?” asked Ginger. “The Picadilly Flower-Girls,” said the Taxi-Man. [Illustration: GYPSY AND GINGER’S FRIENDS 11. The Piccadilly Flower Girls]