THE DUKE ARRIVES The morning was gloomy, and the police-station with its bare, white-washed walls--their white expanse was only broken by notice-boards to which were pinned portraits of criminals with details of their appearance, their crime, and the reward offered for their apprehension--with its shabby furniture, and its dingy fireplace, presented a dismal and sordid appearance entirely in keeping with the September grey.

The inspector sat at his desk, yawning after a night which had passed without an arrest.

He was waiting to be relieved.

The policeman at the door and the two policemen sitting on a bench by the wall yawned in sympathy.
The silence of the street was broken by the rattle of an uncommonly noisy motor-car.

It stopped before the door of the police-station, and the eyes of the inspector and his men turned, idly expectant, to the door of the office.
It opened, and a young man in motor-coat and cap stood on the threshold.
He looked round the office with alert eyes, which took in everything, and said, in a brisk, incisive voice: "I am the Duke of Charmerace.