He went upstairs, leaving his wife wringing her hands below. So far from the red policeman being in bed, she was only too well aware that he was on duty in the district, with every faculty strained to the utmost to avenge the outrage of which he had been the victim. It became necessary to save her husband at all costs, and while he was busy upstairs with the razor she slipped out and bought a paper. He had just come down by the time she returned, and turned to confront her with a conscious grin; but at the sight of her face the smile vanished from his own, and he stood waiting nervously for ill news. “Oh, dear,” moaned his wife. “What’s the matter?” said Mr. Pinner, anxiously. Mrs. Pinner supported herself by the table and shook her head despondently. “’Ave they found me out?” demanded Mr. Pinner. “Worse than that,” said his wife. “Worse than that!” said her husband, whose imagination was not of a soaring description. “How can it be?” “He’s dead,” said Mrs. Pinner, solemnly. “_Dead!_” repeated her husband, starting violently. Mrs. Pinner, with a little sniff, took up the paper and read slowly, interrupted only by the broken ejaculations of her husband. “The unfortunate policeman who was assaulted the other day down at Wapping passed away peacefully yesterday evening. Lady Verax is prostrate with grief and refuses to leave the death-chamber. Several members of the Royal family have telegraphed their——” “_Wot?_” interrupted the astounded listener. “I was reading the wrong bit,” said Mrs. Pinner, who was too engrossed in her reading of the death of a well-known nobleman to remember to make all the corrections necessary to render them suitable for a policeman. Here it is:— “The unfortunate policeman who was assaulted the other day down at Wapping passed away peacefully yesterday evening in the arms of his wife and family. The ruffian is believed to be at sea.” “I wish ’e was,” said Mr. Pinner, mournfully. “I wish ’e was anywhere but ’ere. The idea o’ making a delikit man like that a policeman. Why, I ’ardly touched ’im.” “Promise me you won’t go out,” said his wife, tearfully. “_Out?_” said Mr. Pinner, energetically; “_out?_ D’ ye think I’m mad, or wot? I’m going to stay ’ere till the ship sails, then I’m going down in a cab. Wot d’ye think I want to go out for?” He sat in a frightened condition in the darkest corner of the room, and spoke only to his wife in terms of great bitterness concerning the extraordinary brittleness of members of the police force. “I’ll never touch one on ’em agin as long as I live,” he protested. “If you brought one to me asleep on a chair I wouldn’t touch ’im.” “It’s the drink as made you do it,” said his wife. “I’ll never touch a drop agin,” affirmed Mr. Pinner, shivering.