“Yes, sir, you are quite right. In the first part of the program Constable Purvis will render the ’Oly City--no, I’m a liar, Asleep on the Deep; Constable Jukes will render imitations of well-known footlight celebrities ’oo are familiartoyouall; Inspector Oakshott will render conjuring tricks; Constable----” “An excellent evening’s entertainment, in fact,” said the Rev. Aubrey. “I am taking the chair, I may mention.” “And the vicar is taking the chair,” said the policeman, swift to seize upon this added attraction. “So ’ow many of the five-shilling may I sell you and your good lady, sir?” Soapy, like Chimp, was a thrifty man; and apart from the expense, his whole soul shrank from doing anything even remotely calculated to encourage the force. Nevertheless, he perceived that there was no escape and decided that it remained only to save as much as possible from the wreck. “Gimme one,” he said, and the words seemed to be torn from him. “One only?” said the constable disappointedly. “’Ow about your good lady?” “I’m not married.” “’Ow about your sister?” “I haven’t a sister.” “Then ’ow about if you ’appen to meet one of your gentlemen friends at the club and he expresses a wish to come along?” “Gimme one!” said Soapy. The policeman gave him one, received the money, returned a few genial words of thanks and withdrew. Soapy, going back into the house, was acutely disturbed to find that the vicar had come too. “A most deserving charity,” said the vicar. Soapy eyed him bleakly. How did one get rid of vicars? Short of employing his bride’s universal panacea and hauling off and busting him one, Soapy could not imagine. “Have you been a resident of Valley Fields long, Mr. Shotter?” “No.” “I hope we shall see much of each other.” “Do you?” said Soapy wanly. “The first duty of a clergyman, in my opinion----” Mr. Molloy had no notion of what constituted the first duty of a clergyman, and he was destined never to find out. For at this moment there came from the regions above the clear, musical voice of a woman. “Sweet-ee!” Mr. Molloy started violently. So did the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham. “I’m in the bedroom, honey bunch. Come right on up.” A dull flush reddened the Rev. Aubrey’s ascetic face. “I understood you to say that you were not married, Mr. Shotter,” he said in a metallic voice. “No--er--ah----” He caught the Rev. Aubrey’s eye. He was looking as Sherlock Holmes might have looked had he discovered Doctor Watson stealing his watch. “No--I--er--ah----” It is not given to every man always to do the right thing in trying circumstances. Mr. Molloy may be said at this point definitely to have committed a social blunder. Winking a hideous, distorted wink, he raised the forefinger of his right hand and with a gruesome archness drove it smartly in between his visitor’s third and fourth ribs. “Oh, well, you know how it is,” he said thickly.