I answered that the women-servants had crowded into the room on the previous morning, and that some of their petticoats had done the mischief, "Superintendent Seegrave ordered them out, sir," I added, "before they did any more harm." "Right!" says Mr.Superintendent in his military way.

"I ordered them out.

The petticoats did it, Sergeant--the petticoats did it." "Did you notice which petticoat did it ?" asked Sergeant Cuff, still addressing himself, not to his brother-officer, but to me.
"No, sir." He turned to Superintendent Seegrave upon that, and said, "You noticed, I suppose ?" Mr.Superintendent looked a little taken aback; but he made the best of it.

"I can't charge my memory, Sergeant," he said, "a mere trifle--a mere trifle." Sergeant Cuff looked at Mr.Seegrave, as he had looked at the gravel walks in the rosery, and gave us, in his melancholy way, the first taste of his quality which we had had yet.
"I made a private inquiry last week, Mr.Superintendent," he said.

"At one end of the inquiry there was a murder, and at the other end there was a spot of ink on a table cloth that nobody could account for.