smart, dark uniform, braided and buttoned, who appeared to consider it an honour when White Whiskers—as I saw plainly—extended two fingers to him. They conversed for a minute or two; then, talking confidentially, as it appeared, they set off together. And being just behind them as they left the station, I indulged in more inquisitiveness.
"Who is that in the dark uniform?" I inquired of the clerk who was collecting the tickets at the entrance.
"Mr. Hilgrave," he answered, promptly. "Inspector of police. Nice gentleman!—not been here so very long, though."
I went on to the hotel, wondering what on earth White Whiskers wanted with the local police inspector. And upon getting into the hotel, I found them together. White Whiskers was just beginning a belated dinner in the coffee-room; Hilgrave sat with him, refreshing himself with a whisky-and-soda, and listening with apparent deep interest to his talk. I got some warmed-up dinner myself, but I did not overhear anything that was said between the two. The conversation seemed to be chiefly one-sided; White Whiskers evi-
