Glad to find you're on the job.

Don't let on you met me here.
Good-night!" Mighty is Scotland Yard with the provincial police.

Robinson was back on his self-imposed beat before he well realized that he knew neither why nor by whom nor by what sort of weapon the commotion had been created.
But he was quite sure the noise came from the garden front of Mr.
Grant's house.
"That little hop-o'-me-thumb thinks he's smart, dam smart," he communed angrily, "but I've taken a line of me own, an' I'll stick to it, though the Yard sends down twenty men!" He heard footsteps coming down a paved footpath which ran like a white riband through the cobble-beaded width of the high-street, and withdrew swiftly to the shelter of a disused tannery adjoining the village end of the bridge.

A cloaked female figure sped past.

Though the night was rather dark for June, he had no difficulty in recognizing Doris Martin's graceful movements.