"Extremely. A half-dozen spoons was found on his person."
"He pleaded guilty, I suppose?"
"Not him. He claimed to be as innocent as a new-born babe. Told a cock-and-bull story about havin' been deluded by spirits, but the judge and jury wasn't to be fooled. They gave him every chance, too. He even cabled himself, the judge did, to Pelhamhurst-by-the-Sea, Warwickshire, at his own expense, to see if the man was an impostor, but he never got no reply. There was them as said there wasn't no such place as Pelhamhurst-by-the-Sea in Warwickshire, but they never proved it."
"I should like very much to interview him," said I.
"It can't be done, sir," said my guide. "The rules is very strict."
"You couldn't—er—arrange an interview for me," I asked, jingling a bunch of keys in my pocket.
He must have recognized the sound, for he colored and gruffly replied, "I has me orders, and I obeys 'em."
"Just—er—add this to the pension fund," I put in, handing him a five-dollar bill. "An interview is impossible, eh?"
[Illustration]
"I didn't say impossible," he answered, with a grateful smile. "I said against the rules, but we has been known to make exceptions. I think I can fix you up."