ut nothing in the shape of an ugly crowd. When Mr. Humes saw it was a hansom he drew back.
"Why didn't you get a four-wheeler?" he asked.
"There wasn't one to be had."
Without another word the detective hurried Mr. Bidder across the little strip of pavement. When they were seated he gave the direction to the driver, "Bow Street Police Station," and the cab was off.
"If anyone had told me," said Mr. Bidder, who found it impossible to keep still, "that a person in my position could have been the victim of such a blunder as this, I should have been prepared to stake all that I possess in the world on the fact that the man was lying."
"That's right. Pitch a yarn or two, only don't throw them away on me."
"A dynamite portmanteau!"
"Just so a dynamite portmanteau."
"I never heard of such a thing."
"I don't suppose you ever did."
"What we hear about the blunders of the foreign police is nothing compared to this."
"I daresay you know more ab
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