The constable gave way to panic. He temporised with his duty. "Stow it," he begged, "I can't take you to the station like this. They'll never believe me." He took off his hat and rubbed his tingling forehead. "Say it's a dream, mate," he added, in a whining voice. "'Ow can I go 'ome to the missus with a tale like this. She'll say it's the gin again. It's always my luck to strike something like this. When the ghost came to Bapchurch churchyard, it was me wot saw it first, and nobody believed me. You go along quietly, and we'll look over it this time."
But the Clockwork man made no reply. He was evidently absorbed in the effort to restart some process in himself. Presently his foot went down on the pavement with a smart bang. There followed a succession of sharp explosions, and the next second he glided smoothly away.
The constable returned furtively to his shelter beneath the arch, hitched himself thoughtfully, and found half a cigarette inside his waistcoat pocket.
"It's the gin," he ruminated, half out loud, "I'll 'ave to knock it off. 'Tain't as though I ain't 'ad warnings enough. I've seen things before and I shall see them again—"
He lit the cigarette end and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "I never see 'im," he soliloquised, "not really."
IV
Perhaps it was the strong glare of light issuing from the half-open door of the Templar's Hall that attracted the attention of the Clockwork man as he wandered along towards the lower end of the town. He entered, and found himself in a small lobby curtained off from the main body of the hall. He must have made some slight noise as he stepped upon the bare boards, for the curtain was swept hastily back, and the Curate, who was acting as chief steward of the proceedings, came hurriedly forward.
As he approached the figure standing beneath the incandescent lamp, the clerical beam upon the Curate's clean-shaven features deepened into a more secular expression of heartfelt relief.
"I'm so glad you have come at last," he began, in a strong whisper, "I was beginning to be afraid you were going to disappoint us."
"I am certainly late," remarked the Clockwork man, "about eight thousand years late, so far as I can judge."