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 indeed that they were in a neighborhood in which there was no chance of meeting any of her friends or acquaintances.

So the Messenger of Love came to the police station in this ignominious fashion. The policeman preferred his charge; and the Inspector at the desk examined the delinquents with the proper stern official frown. His brow grew much smoother at the sight of their faces.

It was fortunate that Pollyooly was merely mortified and dismayed and not terrified. She maintained her calm bearing and answered the questions of the Inspector quite clearly. She lived at Seventy-five, the King's Bench Walk in the Temple, and was the housekeeper of the Honorable John Ruffin. He went to the Law Courts every day in a wig and gown. She was not really a flower-seller at all. She was only pretending to be one in order to do something for Captain Croome who lived in Knightsbridge Barracks. She could not say what it was. It was a secret; and she was sure Captain Croome would not like her to tell.

It was a strange tale; and the Inspector was used to strange tales. He was no less used to