“We reached Rosivera at half-past three P.M. We then knocked at the door and asked for Mr. Red. We stepped into the hall of the house, Constable Cole being about two paces behind me. A tall man with a black beard, whom I can identify and swear to if necessary, came out of a door on the left, and without warning struck at my head with a stick. I aimed a blow at him with my fist, not having time to draw my baton, and knocked him down. I was then engaged by two other men. One of them was Mr. Red, to whom I am prepared to swear. I shouted to Constable Cole to strike the man on the ground with his baton, in order to keep him quiet. Constable Cole did not obey my order.” “I did not,” said Constable Cole; “sure I might have killed him.” “We were then overpowered,” said the sergeant, “the man whom I knocked down coming to the assistance of his comrades. That’s all, gentlemen.” “I suppose,” said Mr. Dick, “that your officer will immediately telegraph for the military?” “He might,” said the sergeant; “but he won’t do it sooner than to-morrow, anyway. He won’t be expecting us home till late to-night.” “I must warn the Emperor,” said Dr. O’Grady. “He had better clear out at once. I shouldn’t like any harm to happen to the Emperor, and I know he hates soldiers. His whole life is given up to the destruction of standing armies. He’d break his heart if the military captured him in the end.” “Do you mean to say that you intend----” said Mr. Sanders. “Of course I do,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The Emperor is a thoroughly decent sort, and has always treated me well. I’m not going to allow him to be bullied simply to gratify your passion for revenge. You pretend you think it wrong to gamble, but you’re not above entertaining a spite against the poor Emperor and wanting to stick a knife into him. I can tell you, Mr. Sanders, that sort of spirit is a jolly sight more unchristian than losing a few pence to Patsy Devlin over an innocent game.” “The police,” said Mr. Sanders, confidently, “will see that you do not assist this criminal to escape from justice.” He looked at Sergeant Farrelly as he spoke. The sergeant scratched his head. “Tell me this now,” he said to Dr. O’Grady; “is this any kind of League work?” “It is not,” said the doctor. “I don’t suppose the Emperor ever heard of the League till I mentioned to him the other day that Patsy was a member of it.” “If it’s not the League,” said the sergeant, “and if the doctor will answer for it that the man’s a respectable man----” “He is,” said the doctor. “Why, my goodness, sergeant, he owns a motor-car. You’ve seen it yourself, a remarkably fine motor-car; one that couldn’t have cost less than eight hundred pounds.” “I don’t know,” said the sergeant, “that there’s any call for me to interfere with the doctor in the matter. It would be a queer thing now, and a thing that wouldn’t suit me at all, if I was to be preventing the doctor from speaking to a friend of his anyway that pleases him.”