But stay! Who is that who rushes out from the bushes next the baths and dives at full speed down the slope?
It is THE MAN WITH THE BAG!
Like a flash our policeman again starts in pursuit. This time he says to himself, “The man is mine!”
Vain hope! Even as he rushes into the waiting-room the ferry-boat has cast off and left the wharf. He sees the man with the bag make a desperate leap over a yawning chasm of green sea and white foam, and land safely on the deck. And when he arrives it is only to be greeted by the derisive jeers of the little crowd of passengers.
Slowly he returns up the steps. Shall he report the matter to the Sergeant? It might gain him credit, and the information might prove of use. On the other hand, the Sergeant might want to know what he wanted at that part of his beat at that particular time. And the question would be awkward.
This is how it came about that the police records are bare of any mention of the vain chase by P.-C. Hobbs of a suspicious character carrying a bag.
CHAPTER III
MRS. HOBBS
It was the custom of Mr. Hobbs when he had been on night duty to sleep till twelve noon on the following day, when he would awaken with a punctuality at the dinner hour which would shame the fidelity of an alarm clock. What was his surprise then to have his slumbers rudely disturbed at ten o’clock by the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Hobbs.
“What’s the matter, Bell?”
“Wake up, you! Here’s news! Who’d have thought it! Why half the Shore might be murdered for all you care!”