The constable smiled benignly. Here, at any rate, was somebody who took him and his cupboard seriously. He expanded, both metaphorically and literally, hooking a thumb in the front of his belt as if to guard against expanding too far. “Heard ’em, sir?” he repeated benevolently. “Bless you, I _saw_ ’em!” With a praiseworthy effort Mr. Doyle refrained from leaping violently into the air. “The deuce you did!” he exclaimed, a little faintly. “Er—_saw_ them, did you say?” The constable was pleased with the evident impression he had made. He expanded a little further still, to the imminent danger of his belt. “Yes, sir, that I did. Through the key-hole. Saw em as plainly as I see you this very minute.” “That—that’s excellent,” said Mr. Doyle, wriggling uneasily under the constable’s kindly eye. He plunged at a question that was burning a hole in his tongue. “And—and do you think you would recognise them if you saw them again?” “Not a doubt of it, sir,” replied the constable heartily. “Ho, yes, I’d recognise ’em quick enough. Desprit villains they was too,” he added with gusto. Mr. Doyle was recovering his grip on himself. “That’s very important,” he said gravely. “You had a good view of them then?” “Well,” said the constable with some reluctance, “pretty good, that is, sir. I couldn’t see ’em all the time, because of how the key-hole was facing, if you see what I mean. Just now and then I saw ’em. Pulling the body out, f’rinstance. On a mat, they did. Pulled him out on a mat. Wouldn’t ’ardly believe it, would you, sir? Now, I wonder why they did that.” “So do I,” said Mr. Doyle in feeble agreement. The constable ruminated. “Might just as well ’ave carried him. Not but what he wasn’t a tidy weight. Big man, he was. Crown Prince they say, don’t they?” “So I hear. But look here, about these—er—villains, could you describe them, do you think?” “Near enough, sir. There was two of ’em, a big feller and a little un’. One of ’em was big, you see, and the other wasn’t; well, little you might call ’im. Undersized.” “Little will do, I think. Yes?” “They was wearing ’ats and coats, so I couldn’t see their faces not too well, I couldn’t, but you could see they were foreigners.” “Oh? How?” “Because they were talking a foreign language,” returned the constable with triumph. “That’s ’ow I knew they were foreigners. They were talking a foreign language. There was a girl too.” “A girl, eh?” said Mr. Doyle uneasily. “Yes. I’d seen her before, of course, and let ’er slip through my fingers, I’m afraid. She knew I was in the cupboard too, but she didn’t know I was watching ’er. Funny thing, too, she’d taken off her hat and furs and things. Now I wonder why she done that?” “Perhaps she was hot. Er—I suppose you’d recognise her again, wouldn’t you?” “I would, and all,” replied the constable grimly.