“Oh, at first he didn’t seem to believe a word, but afterwards Meadows had quite talked him over. Meadows kept on insisting that several times you had got hold of inside information that only the police or the murderer himself could possibly have known. He said you must have been there, for instance, on the park lands that night when Police–Constable Holthusen was killed, or you couldn’t possibly have told the Premier what you did when you went up on the deputation. Then the Chief broke in:—‘And, damn it all, that’s how he knew a police bicycle had been stolen that night outside Government House. I can see it all now. He stole it himself. It was a dead secret all along from everyone except the parties actually concerned, and then up gets that Peter Wacks at the public meeting and gives everything away as if he knew all about it, which no doubt the beggar did. Oh damn!”“A rage? By cripes you should have seen him when Meadows said you were the man hiding on the roof at Prospect last Sunday. He just danced up and down like a cat on hot bricks. ‘No wonder he made us the laughing-stock of the city,’ he swore. ‘Oh, the damned swine!’ Then he went on to give Meadows a good jaw. They must never let you out of sight now, he said, for one single second after nightfall. You must be shadowed everywhere. But they must take damned good care not to make any mistake, for just now you were a sort of idol in the city, and if they made a bloomer it would be good-bye for all heads at Victoria Square. The Chief also said that, meanwhile, he should try to pump you tonight.The chauffeur was next quickly handled. He looked a fool and the Inspector was soon glaring angrily at him. The tale, he told was very muddled. Yes — he had been standing by the gate all the time, almost from the very first second when the revolver had been fired. The murderer must have run very quickly across the road. No — he didn’t actually see him run. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone run. What he meant was — that if he had really run he didn’t know how he could have done it at all, for he had been watching the road all the time. No — he wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t making anything up. He didn’t care who asked him anything if they asked him politely, and he didn’t mind now who heard him say —“Blast the police!” He was disgusted.The police, too, could have had no sort of rest at all. All night long numbers were pacing the road — never more than a dozen yards from one another. They talked in gruff voices and repeatedly wished for the morning, when everything wonderful was going to happen, and I should be taken, without doubt. They cursed the people in the house for a lot of muddlers to have let me get away at all, and gave it as their opinion that it would be a hanging matter for half the police if I weren’t caught this time.Then there was myself. I know I never slept. I was listening and listening the whole night long. I was in a bitter agony of mortification, and fear, too, was now creeping like a cold palsy over my mind. What chance of escape had I now, and when I was taken what would it all mean? I should be hanged for certain, and what would become of Lucy then? She would be branded for ever because of my love, and every kiss I had given her would leave its dark memory of dreadful shame. Why — oh, why had I ever touched the paste. I had never dreamed of things like this. It was Fate that had turned my steps this awful way. I was only a pawn in her dreadful game.

THE Bowden Vigilance Society was a great success from the very first, and within a few days the adjoining suburbs of Croydon and Kilkenny asked to come in under our wing. It was quite convenient for us to take them, for many of our streets and roads overlapped, and we soon had a fine wide organisation, working easily and without friction throughout.

“Oh, at first he didn’t seem to believe a word, but afterwards Meadows had quite talked him over. Meadows kept on insisting that several times you had got hold of inside information that only the police or the murderer himself could possibly have known. He said you must have been there, for instance, on the park lands that night when Police–Constable Holthusen was killed, or you couldn’t possibly have told the Premier what you did when you went up on the deputation. Then the Chief broke in:—‘And, damn it all, that’s how he knew a police bicycle had been stolen that night outside Government House. I can see it all now. He stole it himself. It was a dead secret all along from everyone except the parties actually concerned, and then up gets that Peter Wacks at the public meeting and gives everything away as if he knew all about it, which no doubt the beggar did. Oh damn!”“A rage? By cripes you should have seen him when Meadows said you were the man hiding on the roof at Prospect last Sunday. He just danced up and down like a cat on hot bricks. ‘No wonder he made us the laughing-stock of the city,’ he swore. ‘Oh, the damned swine!’ Then he went on to give Meadows a good jaw. They must never let you out of sight now, he said, for one single second after nightfall. You must be shadowed everywhere. But they must take damned good care not to make any mistake, for just now you were a sort of idol in the city, and if they made a bloomer it would be good-bye for all heads at Victoria Square. The Chief also said that, meanwhile, he should try to pump you tonight.The chauffeur was next quickly handled. He looked a fool and the Inspector was soon glaring angrily at him. The tale, he told was very muddled. Yes — he had been standing by the gate all the time, almost from the very first second when the revolver had been fired. The murderer must have run very quickly across the road. No — he didn’t actually see him run. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone run. What he meant was — that if he had really run he didn’t know how he could have done it at all, for he had been watching the road all the time. No — he wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t making anything up. He didn’t care who asked him anything if they asked him politely, and he didn’t mind now who heard him say —“Blast the police!” He was disgusted.The police, too, could have had no sort of rest at all. All night long numbers were pacing the road — never more than a dozen yards from one another. They talked in gruff voices and repeatedly wished for the morning, when everything wonderful was going to happen, and I should be taken, without doubt. They cursed the people in the house for a lot of muddlers to have let me get away at all, and gave it as their opinion that it would be a hanging matter for half the police if I weren’t caught this time.Then there was myself. I know I never slept. I was listening and listening the whole night long. I was in a bitter agony of mortification, and fear, too, was now creeping like a cold palsy over my mind. What chance of escape had I now, and when I was taken what would it all mean? I should be hanged for certain, and what would become of Lucy then? She would be branded for ever because of my love, and every kiss I had given her would leave its dark memory of dreadful shame. Why — oh, why had I ever touched the paste. I had never dreamed of things like this. It was Fate that had turned my steps this awful way. I was only a pawn in her dreadful game.

THE Bowden Vigilance Society was a great success from the very first, and within a few days the adjoining suburbs of Croydon and Kilkenny asked to come in under our wing. It was quite convenient for us to take them, for many of our streets and roads overlapped, and we soon had a fine wide organisation, working easily and without friction throughout.