“I don’t know ’is name and I don’t care about ’is name,” said the constable, sternly. “But if ’e’s the big feller with glasses that’s stayin’ at the Bull, that’s the man I’m after. He may be a ’ighly ’umorous and diverting orator,” said the constable, bitterly, as another happy burst of laughter greeted what was presumably a further sally at the expense of the side which enjoyed his support, “but, be that as it may, ’e’s got to come along with me to the station and explain how ’e ’appens to be in possession of a stolen car that there’s been an enquiry sent out from ’eadquarters about.” My heart turned to water. A light had flashed upon me. “Car?” I quavered. “Car,” said the constable. “Was it a gentleman named Coote who lodged the complaint about his car being stolen? Because——” “I don’t——” “Because, if so, there has been a mistake. Mr. Ukridge is a personal friend of Mr. Coote, and——” “I don’t know whose name it is’s car’s been stolen,” said the constable, elliptically. “All I know is, there’s been an enquiry sent out, and this feller’s got it.” At this point something hard dug into the small of my back as I pressed against the door. I stole a hand round behind me, and my fingers closed upon a key. The policeman was stooping to retrieve a dropped notebook. I turned the key softly and pocketed it. “If you would kindly not object to standing back a bit and giving a feller a chance to get at that door,” said the policeman, straightening himself. He conducted experiments with the handle. “’Ere, it’s locked!” “Is it?” I said. “Is it?” “’Ow did you get out through this door if it’s locked?” “It wasn’t locked when I came through.” He eyed me with dull suspicion for a moment, then knocked imperatively with a large red knuckle. “Shush! Shush!” came a scandalised whisper through the keyhole. “Never you mind about ‘Shush! Shush!’” said the constable, with asperity. “You open this door, that’s what you do.” And he substituted for the knuckle a leg-of-mutton-like fist. The sound of his banging boomed through the corridor like distant thunder. “Really, you know,” I protested, “you’re disturbing the meeting.” “I _want_ to disturb the meeting,” replied this strong but not silent man, casting a cold look over his shoulder. And the next instant, to prove that he was as ready with deeds as with words, he backed a foot or two, lifted a huge and weighty foot, and kicked.