Times had changed since then; Mr. Nippers was now head constable for the district, but he still kept that cigar under a glass shade on the drawing-room whatnot, and he still treasured a vivid recollection of the great man who had given it to him and whom he now saw sitting on the ground with his coat off and his waistcoat unbuttoned, his moustache uncurled, wisps of dried grass clinging to his tousled hair, and all the dignity of office conspicuous by its absence.
"Oh, lummy!" said Mr. Nippers with a gulp. "Put down the hammers of them guns, you two--put 'em down quick! It's Mr. Narkom--Mr. Maverick Narkom, superintendent at Scotland Yard!"
"Hullo!" exclaimed Mr. Narkom, shading his eyes from the firelight and leaning forward to get a clearer view of the speaker. "How the dickens do you know that, my man? And who the dickens are you, anyway? Can't say that I remember ever seeing your face before."
Mr. Nippers hastened to explain that little experience of five years ago; but the circumstance which had impressed itself so deeply upon his memory had passed entirely out of the superintendent's.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said he. "Can't say that I recall the occasion; but Mrs. Narkom certainly did stop at Winton-Old-Bridges some four or five summers ago, so of course it's possible. By the way, my man, what caused you to make this sudden descent upon us? And what are these chaps who are with you bearing arms for? Anything up?"
"Oh, lummy, sir, yes! A murder's just been committed--leastwise it's only just been discovered; but it can't have been long since it _was_ committed, Mr. Narkom, for Miss Renfrew, who found him, sir, and give the alarm, she says as the poor dear gentleman was alive at a quarter to eight, 'cause she looked into the room at that time to ask him if there was anything he wanted, and he spoke up and told her no, and went on with his figgerin' just the same as usual."
"As usual?" said Cleek. "Why do you say 'as usual,' my friend? Was the man an accountant of some sort?"
"Lummy! no, sir. A great inventor is what he is--or was, poor gentleman. Reckon you must 'a' heard of un some time or another--most everybody has. Nosworth is the name, sir--Mr. Septimus Nosworth of the Round House. You could see the tower of it over yon if you was to step out into the road and get clear of these trees."