"Nothing, except----"
"Except what?" asked Constable Nightingale, as his comrade paused. He put his hand to his nose as he asked the question, his reference to it having inspired doubts as to his being still in possession of the feature.
"A minute or two ago," said Constable Wigg, "I had half a fancy that I heard somebody cry out 'Help!'"
"Ah! Did you go?"
"How could I? I wasn't sure, you know."
"Who could be sure of anything," remarked Constable Nightingale, charitably, "on such a night?"
"Nobody. It must have been the wind."
"Not a doubt of it. If anybody told me he saw Polar bears about I shouldn't dispute with him." Then Constable Nightingale took a step forward, and glanced up at the windows of the front rooms occupied by M. Felix, in which shone a perfect blaze of light. "He must be jolly warm up there."
"Who?" inquired Constable Wigg, his eyes following his comrade's glance.
"Mr. Felix."