“No. I’m not suggesting anything about Lew Brady, except that he’s a very poor boxer. I’ll look into this distressing whisker competition, Mr. Broad, and thank you for telling me.” He wasn’t especially interested in the eccentric toilet of Ray Bennett. At five o’clock Balder came to him and asked if he might go home. “I promised my wife——” he began. “Keep it,” said Elk. After his subordinate’s departure there came an official letter to Inspector Elk, and, reading its contents, Mr. Elk beamed. It was a letter from the Superintendent who controlled the official careers of police officers at headquarters. “Sir,” it ran, “I am directed by the Chief Commissioner of Police to inform you that the promotion of Police-Constable J. J. Balder to the rank of Acting-Sergeant has been approved. The appointment will date as from the 1st May.” Elk folded up the paper and was genuinely pleased. He rang the bell for Balder before he remembered that he had sent his assistant home. Elk’s evening was free, and in the kindness of his heart he decided upon conveying the news personally. “I’d like to see this wife of his,” said Elk, addressing nobody, “and the children!” Elk turned up the official pass register, and found that Balder lived at 93, Leaford Road, Uxbridge. The names of his wife and children were not entered, to Elk’s disappointment. He would like to have addressed the latter personally, but no new entry had been made on the sheet since Balder’s enlistment. His police car took him to Leaford Road; 93 was a respectable little house—such a house as Elk always imagined his assistant would live in. His knock was answered by an elderly woman who was dressed for going out, and Elk was surprised to see that she wore the uniform of a nurse. “Yes, Mr. Balder lives here,” she said, apparently surprised to see the visitor. “That is to say, he has two rooms here, though he very seldom stays here the night. He usually comes here to change, and then I think he goes on to his friends.” “Does his wife live here?” “His wife?” said the woman in surprise. “I didn’t know that he was married.” Elk had brought Balder’s official record with him, to procure some dates which it was necessary he should certify for pension purposes. In the space against Balder’s address, he noticed for the first time that there were two addresses given, and that Leaford Road had been crossed out with ink so pale that he only noticed it now that he saw the paper in daylight. The second address was one in Stepney. “I seem to have made a mistake,” he said. “His address here is Orchard Street, Stepney.” But the nurse smiled. “He was with me many years ago,” she said, “then he went to Stepney, but during the war he came here, because the air raids were rather bad in the East End of London. I am under the impression he has still a room in Stepney.” “Oh?” said Elk thoughtfully. He was at the gate when the nurse called him back.