"Sergeant-Major"—he motioned to Bland, transferred from Broncho to Black Elk Territory at Hector's request—"find out the meaning of this disturbance, please."
The Sergeant-Major hastened out, visions of riots in his head. When he reached the gate, however, he found that the crowd had good-humouredly fallen back, leaving the person on whom their attention centred to pass through the line of Police undisturbed.
"Well, what was it?"
Without looking up from his writing, Hector flung the question at the Sergeant-Major as that worthy N.C.O. returned.
Bland thanked Heaven for the Superintendent's preoccupation.
"It's—it's—" he began.
"It's Constable Oswald," said an alluring voice, "and he's brought you a prisoner."
Hector looked up to see before him: One, the Rev. Mr. Northcote, on the broad grin, held captive by two, a buck policeman, standing at attention.
"What does this mean?"
Hector's tone was icy.