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sir, it’s just … I didn’t realize there’d be such a lot of pen work to be done. I ain’t very good with a pen.”
    “Well, do as well as you can. Mr. Marsden will evaluate it in the morning.”
    “Just like school, sir?” There seemed to me to be a bit more than a hint of impudence in that.
    “No, not quite.” Sir John paused and rubbed his chin in thought before proceeding: “Mr. Patley, you have not been with us long. You are not yet accustomed to our procedures, but once you are, I believe you will understand their usefulness.” Then, with a nod: “That will be all.”
    The constable saluted in the same military fashion as before and barked out a “Yes sir” before turning and marching off, more sober-faced than when he had come. He attracted a good deal of attention to himself with these exaggerated movements. Mistress Pinkham, for one, stared with such intensity at him that she seemed almost to consume him with her eyes. Only then did it occur to me that women, especially young women like her, would no doubt find him quite handsome — “a rum cod,” as Jimmie Bunkins would have it — “dashing,” as you might say.
    Then did Sir John bend toward me and whisper: “Did he salute me again I
    “Twice, sir,” said I, “once at arrival and once at departure.”
    “I wish he wouldn’t do that. Perhaps you could mention it to him. Tell him that something more … oh, I don’t know … informal might be better.”
    “Well,” said I, “I’ll try.”
    “Jeremy …”
    “Yes, Sir John?”
    “Let us leave here. I am suddenly grown weary.”
    “Did you not wish to wait for Lord Lilley?”
    “No, there is no telling when he will return. He is, as I have heard, socially timid, and he might consider it too great an insult to the Dutch ambassador if he and Lady Lilley were to leave early. He may be prepared to wait, no matter what disaster may befall his house.”
    “Then by all means, let’s be gone,” said I.
    “By all means, let’s,” said he.
    Sir John left word with Mr. Brede, nevertheless, that when Lord and Lady Lilley were to return, he was to tell them that Sir John would come tomorrow in the morning that he might discuss with them details of the crimes committed in their home. In the meantime, Sir John requested that none of the household staff be discharged or penalized, for he had not finished his examination of them. As we left, the constable instructed us to walk to Pall Mall if we wished to engage a hackney.
    “A hackney,” said Sir John, “by all means.”
    And so we set out, the two of us, at an easy pace for Pall Mall. Though visible to me down at the end of the street, it was, as I well knew, some considerable distance away; I offered to run down to the corner and bring back a hackney coach.
    “They come by with great frequency,” said I. “Indeed, I shouldn’t be but a few minutes gone.”
    “No,” said he, “I find the night air rather refreshing. It has restored me somewhat.”
    And so we continued along St. James Street, and as we went I looked left and right at the great houses. Even in the moonlight they looked impressive — or perhaps especially then, for the night shadows seemed to cover over the imperfections and worn spots that were visible during the day. (Not all the houses in this district were in the same excellent state of repair.)
    As we approached Mr. Bilbo’s residence, I saw that lights burned in a number of the windows. It was indeed one of the grandest in this street, having formerly belonged to Lord Goodhope. Mr. Bilbo, the owner and operator of one of London s most popular gaming houses, took the house in settlement of the nobleman’s gambling debt. Since then, I had been there often, for my friend, Jimmie Bunkins, had been taken by Mr. Bilbo as his ward; and through my intercession our cook, Annie, had been accepted as a scholar by Bunkins s tutor, Mr. Burn-ham. All in all, I was well-known there, though no better than Sir John himself,