"All right, Puffett," said Peter, absently. "Carry on."
Steps on the path, and a dismal little procession passing the window: a sergeant of police and another uniformed man, carrying a stretcher between them.
"Very good, me lord." Mr. Puffett glanced from the window and removed his bowler hat. "And where's all 'is cheese-parin' brought 'im now?" he demanded. "Nowhere."
He marched out.
"De mortuis," said Peter, "and then some."
"Yes, he seems to be getting a nice derangement of epitaphs, poor old creature."
Corpse and policemen--there they were, not to be got rid of, whatever one's feelings might be. Much better to accept the situation and do one's best. Superintendent Kirk came in, followed by Joe Sellon.
"Well, well," said Peter. "All ready for the third degree?"
"'Tain't likely t
