"Is there?" said Constable Wigg. "I'm new to the neighborhood, and I'm certain I shouldn't be able to find it."
"All right," said Constable Nightingale, briskly, seeing his way out of the difficulty, "we'll go together."
"And leave me alone 'ere after what's happened!" cried Mrs. Middlemore. "Not if you was to fill my lap with dymens! That 'orrid cat 'd come and scare the life out of me!"
"We can't all go," mused Constable Nightingale, with a stern eye on his comrade, "and I ain't a man to shirk a duty; but don't go back on a pal, Wigg, whatever you do."
"Nobody could ever bring that against me, Nightingale," said Constable Wigg, in an injured tone; "and I don't know what you're driving at."
"I hope you don't," said Constable Nightingale, by no means softened, "that's all I've got to say. I hope you don't. You'd better both see me to the door, and shut it after me. And mind you keep your ears open to let me in when I come back."
Constable Nightingale, a victim to duty, was presently battling with the storm through the deserted streets, while Constable Wigg and Mrs. Middlemore, at the housekeeper's suggestion, made their way to the warm kitchen, where she brewed for her companion a stiff glass of grog. "What did Mr. Nightingale mean," asked Mrs. Middlemore, "when he said never go back on a pal?"
"I'd rather not say," replied Constable Wigg, and then appeared suddenly to come to a different conclusion.
"But why not? The last of my wishes would be to vex you, and when you're curious you like to know, don't you, my--I beg you a thousand pardons--don't you, ma'am?"
"Mr. Wigg," observed Mrs. Middlemore, "I'm a woman, and I do like to know. Oh!" she cried, with a little shriek, "was that somebody moving upstairs?"