"I ain't exactly a mouse," said Constable Applebee, stiffening himself. "It happened a second time. There it was, creeping ahead of me. This time I don't give it a chance. I run after it and call out, 'Stand up like a man!'"---- "It might have been a female shadder," suggested Constable Pond. "Perhaps you know more about it than I do," said Constable Applebee, testily. "No, Applebee, no. Go on." "'Stand up like a man!' I call out. What's the consequence? It vanishes again, and there I stand, dumbfoundered." "Does it come a third time, Applebee?" "No, it don't come a third time. When I was a little boy my mother took me to the Polytechnic to see 'Pepper's Ghost.' You saw it, and it wasn't there. You run a sword through it, and it grinned in your face. I was that scared I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. It's my belief, if I'd got close enough to run a knife into the shadder, it'd have served me just the same. Step up, we're in the gutter." "It's singular, that's what it is. It's singular. Shall you report it?" "I'm doubtful of it. They might think I was off my head. Let it be between us, Pond." "It don't pass my lips, Applebee." They entered a hooded court, and halted there. "Where are we?" asked Constable Pond. "In Deadman's Court." Constable Pond shivered. "Leading to Catchpole Square, and leading nowhere else. You wouldn't catch _me_ living in a cooldersack." "What may be the meaning of that, Applebee?" asked Constable Pond. "You couldn't have been much of a dab at school to ask that question. Now, me!--but I won't boast. Cooldersack is French for blind thoroughfare. A man that sleeps as sound as I do 'd find himself in a trap, with a entrance like this. Suppose you live in the end house where Mr. Samuel Boyd lives, and there's a fire in the middle of the night. How's the fire engines to get to you? You wouldn't have half a chance. A man might as well be shut up in a bottle. Do you know the Square at all, Pond?" "No. Never been in it to my knowledge." "Couldn't have been in it without," said Constable Applebee, chuckling at his wit. "It's the rummiest built place _you_ ever saw. Just step in a minute. Not that you can see much of it with this fog on, but I could describe it blindfold. Six houses with the street doors in front of us--we're standing facing 'em now--and only one of 'em let, the one at the end corner, Mr. Samuel Boyd's. The others have been empty I don't know how long. Now right about face, and what do you see?" "As fur as I can make out," said Constable Pond, peering before him, "it's a blank wall." "It _is_ a blank wall, the backs of six houses, without any back entrance to 'em." "Where's the front entrance?" "In Shore Street. If we had Samuel Boyd's money we'd do better with it, wouldn't we, Pond? We'd have a house with a bit of garden in front and a bit of garden at the back, with a rose tree or two, and flowers in the winder--because what's the use of money if you don't enjoy it?"