I did not tell the expectant constable more than I deemed it good that he should know. I told him I thought I had discovered the presence of two men in the house, but I did not say they were men I knew and could identify. He was pleased with the half-sovereign I gave him, and hinted clearly that he would always be glad to render me any service in his power. It always interests me to observe how readily the milk of human kindness comes oozing out where one least expects it, provided the "source" whence it springs is "handled" in the right way. As he had said this, I determined to take him at his word. I had seen enough to excite my curiosity and to stimulate in me a keen desire actually to enter the house. But how could this be arranged? Everything is possible of accomplishment, I find, if you set about it in the right way. I had obtained from the policeman his private address in Rodney Street, Walworth Road, and, on the following evening, when he was off duty, I looked in to see him. Rarely have I been more welcomed by anybody than I was by that policeman and his wife, or more hospitably entertained. Plenty of men of about my own social standing would, I know, think me quite mad if I told them I had hobnobbed with "a common policeman." The club would have been shocked. "My dear fellah," I can hear them saying, "you really should draw the line somewhere, don't you know. A gentleman is a gentleman, and a policeman is--well, is a policeman--eh, what? He may be an exceedingly good and honest fellah, and all that sort of thing, don't you know, but, after all, we must keep to people in our own station of life, or we shall be dining with each other's valets next, and one's friend's butler will be asking one to lunch with him at his club. I'm cosmopolitan myself, up to a point, but really one must keep the classes distinct, we must keep ourselves aloof from the common people, or where will it end, don't you know? As I say, a gentleman is a gentleman, and a man who isn't a gentleman, well, he isn't a gentleman--you can't get away from that." To which my only reply would be that, to my knowledge, there are plenty of "gentlemen" who are not gentlemen, and quite a sensible proportion of the men we do self-complacently term "bounders" who are men of high ideals and of great refinement. During supper, to which he had asked me half-apologetically, the constable entertained me with many good stories, for he had been seventeen years in the Metropolitan Police, and had seen much of life in London during that time. I waited until we had finished supper, and his wife had retired, before submitting for his approval the proposal I had come to make.