He advised us--as a friend, if he might say
so--to go home quietly.
"But there's a public meeting inside," said I.
"There might be, or there might not be," he allowed. "It's a thin
one anyway. You'll get no fun out of it."
"And I am due to make a speech there," I went on. "That's to say,
they want me to propose or second a vote of thanks or something of
the sort."
"If I was you, sir," advised the constable, kindness itself, "I
wouldn't, however much they wanted it."
I gave him my card. He held it close under the ray of his bull's-eye
and altered his manner with a jerk. "Begging your pardon, Sir
Roderick--"
"Not at all," I assured him. "Most natural mistake in the world.
If there's a side entrance, now, near the platform--"
He led us up a gusty by-street and tapped for us on the side door.
It was opened at once, though cautiously, by a little frock-coated
man ornamented with a large blue-and-white favour. After an
instant's parley he received us obsequiously, and the constable
pocketed our blessing.
"Of course," he said by way of Good night, "I knew from the first I
was dealing with gentlemen.
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