"Do what?" I asked. "Take poison." "Take poison? What do you mean?" "Well, sir," exclaimed the constable, in a not unkind tone, "I found you the night before last on a seat in Kensington Gardens. There was this empty bottle beside you," and he held up a small dark blue phial. "Then you think that I attempted suicide!" I exclaimed, amazed. "I didn't think you'd only attempted it--I believed you'd done the trick," was the man's reply. "You've got the 'orspitel people to thank for bringing you round. At first they thought you a dead 'un." "And I do thank them," I said. "And you also, constable. I suppose, however, I'm in custody for attempted suicide, eh?" "That's about it, sir. At least that's why I'm on duty 'ere!" "Well," I exclaimed, smiling, "I wonder if you'd like me to make a statement to your inspector. I could tell him something that would interest him." "Not now, not now," protested the nurse. "You're not strong enough. Go to sleep again. You'll be better this evening." "Well, will you ask the inspector to come and see me this evening?" I urged. "All right, sir. I'll see 'im when I go off duty, and tell 'im what you say." Then the nurse shook a warning finger at me, and gave me a draught, after which I fell again into a kind of dreamy stupor. It was evening when I awoke, and I found a grey-bearded inspector at my bedside. "Well?" he said gruffly. "You want to see me--to say something? What is it?" "I want to tell you the truth," I said. "Oh! yes, you all want to do that. You go and make a fool of yourself, and then try and get out of it without going before the magistrate," was his reply. "I have not made a fool of myself," I declared. "A deliberate attempt was made upon my life by an American named George Himes, who had a flat at Hyde Park Gate. I never went into Kensington Gardens. I must have been taken there." "Oh!" he exclaimed, rather dubiously. "Do you know what you're saying? Just tell me your story again." I repeated it word for word, adding that I dined at the American's flat with my friend James Harding Miller and his daughter, who were staying at the Buckingham Palace Hotel. "I want to see Miss Miller. Will you send word to her that I am here?" "You say then that she and her father can testify that you dined at Hyde Park Gate. Can they also testify that you were given poison?" "No. They left previous to Himes giving me the whisky." "And why did he do it?" "I think because he mistook me for another man." "Poisoned you accidentally, eh?" he said, in doubt. "Yes." "Very well," he answered, with some reluctance, "I'll make inquiries of these people. What's your name and address?" I told him, and he wrote it down in his pocket-book. Then he left, and so weak was I that the exertions of speaking had exhausted me.