Bless us all--how the chap did walk. There he was, head bent down, shoulders sagging, his step shuffling as though he wore slippers, and in his eyes that money fever which, to me, is one of the most awful things in all the world. Even the police were rather disgusted with him, I think, and the sergeant told me afterwards that he would have paid fifty pounds to have got out of the job. For that matter, neither he nor his underling said a word to Moss when they rang at the front door bell, and they didn't seem to think it at all wonderful that Biggs and I should be upon the doorstep with them. So all together we waited quite a long time before old Hill, the butler, came jauntily along the great corridor, and opened to us very deliberately. And now for it, I thought--and oh, my poor Dolly, whatever is going to happen to you! "Party of the dabe of Miss More--is she sdaying in this house?" asks Moss, half pushing his way in, and trying to look impudent. You should have seen the butler's face when he answered him. "Who the devil are you?" he asked, "and what do you mean by coming here like this? Outside, my man, or I'll put you there pretty quick." He took Moss by the collar, and, turning him about as though he were a babe, shoved him on the wrong side of the door before you could have said "knife." Then he turned to the sergeant. "What's all this, Sergeant Joyce?" he asked. "Why do you bring this person here?" "Oh," stammered the sergeant, "he says that a certain Miss More----" "I beg you pardon," cried the butler quickly, "I think you should speak of Lady Badington--my master left for Paris at eight o'clock this morning." "What!" roared Moss--and you could have heard him on the Goodwin Sands--"Lord Badington's married her?" "I believe those are the facts," says Hill, very quietly--and then--well, and then I sat down on the doorstep and I laughed until the tears ran down my face. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!--and Moss's face! But you will understand all that, and how the sergeant looked, and the smile on the butler's face, without me saying a single word about it. "Take a week's notice, and be d----d to you!" cried I, turning upon my master all of a sudden. "Do you think I'll serve with a man who sent policemen after his best customers? You go to hell, Moss--where you ought to have been long ago," and with that I just walked off down the drive, and Biggs with me. Lord, what an afternoon we had! And the night we spent afterwards in Ramsgate! For, you see, it was quite true. Old Lord Badington, who never could look at a pretty woman twice without falling in love with her, found himself mostly alone with Mistress Dolly at Sandwich, and, by all that is true and wonderful, he married her.