"Huddesley?" echoed the doctor, in helpless bewilderment. During the above speech, which had been delivered in a brisk, authoritative, but carefully lowered voice, the speaker had walked in without the ceremony of waiting to be asked, and now stood in the middle of the hall, apparently inventorying everything in it with a swift and practised eye. His subordinates followed, the policeman halting at the door-mat and respectfully wiping his shoes. "Yes, Huddesley, had him about eight or ten weeks, ain't you? Little dark, stocky fellow; talks like he was English; says he was butler to the nobility over there--ain't that him? Is he in the house now?" "I don't think so," said the doctor, at once disturbed and resentful. "He had to go out this evening. If you will oblige me with your name, sir, and the object of this visit----?" "You got it there on the card," said the other. "Take your time, Doc., don't go off at half-cock. I know it's kinder sudden, and I'm sorry, but I guess I'll have to pinch your man. Where is he? Where'd he go? Don't you know whether he's in or not? Who's that upstairs?" "That is a guest of mine who is ill," said the doctor with rising irritation. "If you will please to explain, sir----" "I gotta hump myself, or I wouldn't 'a' bothered you, Doc.," said the man, civilly enough. "Soon's you've got the sleep outa your eyes, you can just look at that card I give you. We ain't goin' to make _you_ any trouble, you know, any more'n we can help, that is. Where's his room? Upstairs? To the back? Go up there and look, Judd. Here, you, one-o'-the-finest, what's your name?" "Clancy, sor," said the policeman, and put a finger to his helmet. "Go 'round to the back, and keep your eye out. I'll stay here. Is there any other outside-doors, Doc.?" "No," said the doctor shortly. "Is--ah--is this your card, sir?" "Keep your shirt on," said the other soothingly. "You're comin' along by the slow freight, but you'll get there directly. Go easy, and when you're through readin' let me know." The doctor, diverting his astounded mind from the spectacle of a strange man of uncouth appearance and no manners giving orders in his house, and another strange man going upstairs seemingly to search it, adjusted his glasses and bringing them to bear on the card which the leader had thrust into his passive hand, read: JOHN P. HOPPLE, Collector. Mercantile and Commercial Protective Association. D. B. stands for Dead Beats. B. D. stands for Bad Debts. We collect Bad Debts from Dead Beats everywhere for everybody. We can collect yours. We collect regardless of Lodge, Politics, or Religion. Do business with us and we will both make money. _Some people don't like us._ "Ain't nobody up there," said the ancient, returning from the exploration of Doctor Vardaman's upper rooms. "Except the sick dude in the front room. Say, maybe he ain't been on a bat, ain't he? Oh, no, I guess not!"