“I’m sorry to trouble you, sir, but I must ask you to come with me to the police-office.”
“Why?” I inquired, with well-assumed indignation. “My lamps are all alight, and I have contravened no law, surely!”
“You are an Englishman. I hear that from your speech.”
“That is so. My name is Hartley—William Hartley, and I live in Liverpool.”
“We shall not detain you long,” was his reply. “I am only carrying out an order we have received.”
“An order—what order?”
“To arrest an Englishman who is escaping on a motor-car.”
“And am I the Englishman, pray?” I asked sarcastically. “Come, this is really too huge a joke! Haven’t you got the gentleman’s personal description? What has he done that you should be in search of him?”
“I don’t know. The chief has all particulars. Let us go together.”