The father rose to his feet, somewhat painfully, the daughter looked round. And behold! a man sturdy, broad-shouldered, short, clad, not in some soft clinging stuff, but in stout Scotch tweed, which--as to his upper part--was a roomy coat with poachers' pockets, and--as to his lower--plus-fours. His stockings were thick and ribbed, as fashion in a certain world demanded at that moment; but his boots were of that unmistakable sort provided by the Government of the King for his police. The hair was short, coarse, and thick; the face broad and determined; the eyes straightforward, grey and far too bold. What the mouth might really be like only its Creator knew, for it was thatched by a moustache so bristling, curt, aggressive and sprouting-out that the eye of the onlooker was fascinated and could not note the ugly lips below. "Evenin'!" said the Apparition in a powerful voice of low pitch; and as he said it he bobbed the head and shoulders of him towards the man who--for a year or two--controlled the peace--and police--of England. "Evenin', ma'am," added the Apparition with the same jerk of the head and shoulders towards the Lady of the House. "Cold evenin'? Good fire, I see!" he added with a charming familiarity. "Pleasant thing evenin's the likes o' this, a good fire is." And as he thus delivered himself with all the natural grace and charm of long experience, his two staggered victims waited for their breaths. There was but one reply, and the Home Secretary made it pompously and, I am afraid, a little distantly. "Good evening, Mr....?" "Collop," said the stranger, decisively. "Collop. Ah, yes, Collop. I should have remembered. Mr. Collop, my dear," he said, bending his head towards his daughter, who stared astonished and had not yet recovered herself. "Collop. Yes. Mr. Collop.... Mr. Collop. I understand fully. We are to call you Mr. Collop." "Rather!" said that solid individual. "That's my name _here_," and he winked. "What my name may be elsewhere we both know, eh?" and he winked again. [Illustration: _Sudden Entry of Mr. Collop._] "Ah, Mr. Collop--it is to be Mister, is it not?" "Yes, Mister," answered the gentleman solemnly, "not Miss nor Master. Who ye're kidding?" He did not say it insolently. He knew his place. He knew he was talking to the Home Secretary. He said, "Who ye're kidding?" by way of a respectful jest. "Mr. Collop.... Yes.... Mr. Collop...." stuttered the Home Secretary like a man half stunned. "We expected ... ah! ... you will pardon me? ... a Mr. _Brailton_; yes, a Mr. _Brailton_.... Eh? Shall I ... ah! ... if by any accident there should be a mistake?" "There's no mistake," said the genial Collop, "old Brailton 'twas to be! You're right there, mister! But he was that sick he asked me to run down. ''Tis only a suburb job,' says he. So here I am!" The Home Secretary whispered to his daughter in an agony: "Can't we stop it? Shall we telephone?"