In after days the Duke of Belleville was accustomed to count his feelings as he fled barefooted (for what protection could silk socks afford?) across Hampstead Heath, with three incensed pursuers on his track, among the keenest sensations of his life. The exhilaration of the night air and the chances of the situation in which he found himself combined to produce in him a remarkable elation of spirits. He laughed as he ran, till shortening breath warned him against such extravagant wasting of his resources; then he settled down to a steady run, heading across the Heath, up and down, over dip and hillock. Yet he did not distance the pack. He heard them close behind him; a glance round showed him that the lady was well up with her friends, in spite of the impediment of her skirts. The Duke began to pant; his feet had grown sore and painful; he looked round for a refuge. To his delight he perceived, about a hundred yards to his right, a small and picturesque red-brick house. It was now between one and two o’clock, but he did not hesitate. Resolving to appeal to the hospitality of this house, hoping, it may be, again to find a door left open, he turned sharp to the right, and with a last spurt made for his haven. Fate seemed indeed kind to him; the door was not only unbarred, it stood ajar. The Duke’s pursuers were even now upon him; they were no more than five or six yards behind when he reached the little red-tiled porch and put out his hand to push the door back. But at the same instant the door was pulled open, and a burly man appeared on the threshold. He wore a frock coat embellished with black braid and a peaked cap. The Duke at once recognised in him an inspector of police. Evidently he was, when surprised by the Duke’s arrival, about to sally out on his round. The Duke stopped and, between his pants, made shift to address the welcome ally; but before he could get a word out the young man was upon him. “Inspector,” said the young man in the most composed manner, “I give this fellow in charge for stealing my property.” “I saw him take the tankard,” observed the driver, pointing towards the Queen Bess flagon. The lady said nothing but stood by the young man, as though ready with her testimony in case it were needed. The Inspector turned curious eyes on the Duke of Belleville; then he addressed the young man respectfully. “May I ask, sir, who you are?” “I am the Duke of Belleville,” answered the young man. “The Duke of Belle-ville!” cried the Inspector, his manner showing an increased deference. “I beg your Grace’s----” “The name,” said the Duke, “is pronounced Bevvle--to rhyme with devil.” The Inspector looked at him scornfully. “Your turn will come, my man,” said he, and, turning again to the young man, he continued: “Do you charge him with stealing this cup?” “Certainly I do.” “Do you know who he is?” “I imagine you do,” said the young man, with a laugh. “He’s one of your own policeman.”