by W. W. Jacobs
He stuck the battered relicon his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back--awed, despite himself.
"It was a fair fight," he stammered.
The constable waved him away. "Get out o' my sight before I change mymind," he said, fiercely; "and mind, if you say a word about this it'llbe the worse for you."
"Do you think I've gone mad?" said the other. He took another look athis victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home.The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages.
They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against thelamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of aprisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by athread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up andplaced it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his ear.
He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in thedirection of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and criesof "Police!" became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, andturning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of alarge house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wardsthem. The constable arrived out of breath.
"Better late than never," said the owner of the house, sarcastically.
Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on thefence.
"They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them," continued thehouseholder. "Halloa!" he added, as somebody opened the hall door andthe constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. "Areyou hurt?"
"Yes," said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gaintime he blew a loud call on his whistle.
"The rascals!" continued the other. "I think I should know the big chapwith a beard again, but the others were too quick for me."
Mr. Evans blew his whistle again--thoughtfully. The opportunity seemedtoo good to lose.
"Did they get anything?" he inquired.
"Not a thing," said the owner, triumphantly. "I was disturbed just intime."
The constable gave a slight gulp. "I saw the three running by the sideof the road," he said, slowly. "Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so Icollared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had medown three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, andwhen I came to my senses again they had gone."
He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur ofsympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable,both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them.
"Get back to the station and make your report," said the former, asConstable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story."You've done your best; I can see that."
Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limpedpainfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might makegood their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman wasat least equal to that of three burglars.
He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head dressed,was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or two. He wasoff duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having devoted a columnto the affair, headed "A Gallant Constable," modestly secluded himselffrom the public gaze for the whole of that time.
To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could haverepeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. Theconstable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr.Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlourwindow, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. Itwas not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sightof the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he mightescape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence beforethe latter was aware of his presence.
"Wot about that 'ere burglary?" he demanded in truculent tones.
"Good evening, Grummit," said the constable, with a patronizing air.
"Wot about that burglary?" repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. "I don'tbelieve you ever saw a burglar."
Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better runindoors, my good man," he said, slowly.
"Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr.Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. "Why, I gave you thatblack eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I----"
"You've been drinking," said the other, severely.
"You mean to say I didn't?" demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously.
Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. "I don't know what you'retalking about," he said, calmly.
Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood.
"Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars,"continued the constable, "why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure.Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices."
Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of yardsand breathed heavily.
"About your height, too, he was," mused the constable. "I hope for yoursake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me justnow."
Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered.
"That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hardon a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer."
Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance toa feeble "Oh!"
"No," said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. "It ain't good enoughfor us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can'tlive in a common place like this."
Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. "A--a sergeant?" he stammered.
Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. "For my braverywith them burglars the other night, Grummit," he said, modestly. "Imight have waited years if it hadn't been for them."
He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, withoutany adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house.