There was a muttering, then a bump, jolt, and jangle of a cab heard, and a huge figure slowly seemed to loom up out of the fog in a spectral way, leading a gigantic horse, beyond which was something dark. "What's the row?" said the husky voice. "These gents want a cab." "Oh, but I can't drive nowheres to-night. I drove right into one pub, and then nearly down two areas. Where do you want to go." "John's Hotel, Surrey Street, old man. Look sharp. Five bob." "Five what, sir? Why, I wouldn't stir a step under ten. I'm just going to get my old horse into the first mews, shove on his nosebag and then get inside and go to sleep. I can't drive. I shall have to lead him." "Give him ten," said the man with the sharp voice. "All right. Here, hold up, old man," said the other. "Look sharp! See never I come out with him again." "Yes, don't make a noise, or you'll bring out the doctor," said the other man, and the policeman went to the cab door. The cab evidently objected to the fare, for the door stuck, and only yielded at last with a rattle, and so suddenly that John Whyley nearly went on his back. But he recovered himself, and held his light so that the utterly helpless man, who seemed as if composed of jelly, was pulled by one of his companions, thrust by the other, into the cab, and forced up on the back seat. "There y'are, const'ble," said the man with the thick voice, "there's something to get glass; but don't take too much-- like that chap--my deares' frien', it's s'prising ain't it? Tell cabman John's Hotel." "All right, sir, he knows. Go ahead, cabby." He took a few slow steps towards where the cabman stood by the horse's head. "Think they're all right?" said the cabman, in a husky whisper. "Give me half-a-crown," said John Whyley. "Did they? Wish I'd stood out for a sovereign." As he spoke he started his horse slowly, and the cab went by the constable, whose lamp showed the interior very indistinctly, the cab window being drawn up, and then the sight and sound of the vehicle died out in the fog, and all was once more still. "Ill wind as blows no one any good!" said the constable, slowly continuing his beat. "Rather have my half-crown than their sick headaches in the morning. Rather rum that no one came out with all that talking." John Whyley hummed a tune and tried two or three front-doors and area gates, and then he took off his helmet and scratched his head as if puzzled. "Now, have I done right?" he said suddenly. "Seemed to be square. Smelt of drink horrid. Other two 'peared to be on all but once or twice. I say! Was it acting?" He gave his helmet a sharp blow with his doubled fist, stuck it on tightly, and took a few quick steps in the direction in which the cab had moved off.