"You'll be one o' the first to know," said Mr. Jenkins, darkly; "he'll be arrested to-morrow. Fancy the impudence of it! It's shocking." Mr. Drill whistled. "Nell, don't let that little affair o' yours with Sims be known," he said, quietly. "Have that kept quiet--if you can." Mr. Jenkins started as though he had been stung. In the joy of a case he had overlooked one or two things. He turned and regarded the young man wistfully. "Don't call on me as a witness, that's all," continued Mr. Drill. "I never was a mischief-maker, and I shouldn't like to have to tell how you lent your helmet to Sims so that he could pretend he had knocked Cooper down and taken it from him." [Illustration: "Don't call on me as a witness, that's all," continued Mr. Drill.] "Wouldn't look at all well," said Mr. Gunnill, nodding his head sagely. Mr. Jenkins breathed hard and looked from one to the other. It was plain that it was no good reminding them that he had not had a case for five years. "When I say that I know who did it," he said, slowly, "I mean that I have my suspicions." "Don't call on me as a witness, that's all,' continued Mr. Drill." "Ah," said Mr. Drill, "that's a very different thing." "Nothing like the same," said Mr. Gunnill, pouring the constable a glass of ale. Mr. Jenkins drank it and smacked his lips feebly. "Sims needn't know anything about that helmet being repaired," he said at last. "Certainly not," said everybody. Mr. Jenkins sighed and turned to Drill. "It's no good spoiling the ship for a ha'porth o' tar," he said, with a faint suspicion of a wink. "No," said Drill, looking puzzled. "Anything that's worth doing at all is worth doing well," continued the constable, "and while I'm drinking another glass with Mr. Gunnill here, suppose you go into the kitchen with that useful bag o' yours and finish repairing my truncheon?" End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Changing Numbers, by W.W. Jacobs