In the shadow of a shrubbery two hitherto respectable English citizens clutched one another with ecstatic fingers, moaning feebly. Through uncurtained French windows just in front of them a large policeman could be seen, flourishing a revolver. The words, “You stand still!” floated out into the peaceful night.
“Oh, my sacred hat!” moaned the shorter of the two citizens in the shrubbery. “This is better than the films—far, far, better. Why go to the cinema, when you can stage this sort of thing in your own home?”
The other citizen, a tall, lanky figure with bowed shoulders, removed his pince-nez, misty with emotion, and polished them hastily. His long body quivered with guilty joy. “Yes, but look here, Doyle,” he said reluctantly, “what’s going to happen? We can’t have Laura taken off to the police-station.”
“Why not?” asked that young woman’s future brother-in-law unfeelingly. “It’d do her all the good in the world. And I wouldn’t bail her out either. Oh, sportsman!” he added, as more words floated out on the still air. “He’s trying to get her to bolt for it, see? Strikes me that old Priestley’s coming through this with colours flying.”
“He is,” agreed Guy. “But I really think we ought to intervene now, you know. Matters have been taken rather out of our hands, with this ass of a policeman interfering. We don’t want to get involved in a conspiracy to make a bigger hass of the law than it usually is. We’d better go along and explain before things get worse.”
“Good God, no!” croaked Mr. Doyle with emotion. “For Heaven’s sake don’t spoil things now, Nesbitt. They’re just beginning to get interesting. We couldn’t have got a policeman into it more neatly if we’d plotted for a month. Just think how his presence is going to intensify our friend’s reactions, my dear chap!”
“That’s true enough,” said Guy quivering again.
“And you needn’t worry about things,” pursued Mr. Doyle earnestly. “Not so long as Laura’s on the spot. You leave it to her. I’d back that girl to— Hullo! What the blazes is happening now?”
In the lighted room two uneasy backs now confronted their audience. The constable could be seen approaching them with awful determination in every line of his massive form.
“Great Scott!” observed Mr. Doyle a moment later, in tones of respect. “He’s handcuffed ’em. Handcuffed ’em together. Handcuffed Laura to—well, well, I’ll be blowed!” One gathered that the person who ventured to handcuff Laura had earned Mr. Doyle’s deepest veneration.