“No offence, Mr Nanjivell,” said the Policeman coaxingly.  “But merely as between naybours, if I might advise.  Mr Pamphlett is a very powerful gentleman:  or, as I might put it better, he has influence, unknown to you or me, an’ knowledge—­”

“He’s a very powerful skunk.”

“’Beida! . . .  ’Beida!” called a voice from the foot of the stairs.  ’Beida, after a start of joy, answered with the Penhaligon war-whoop, as her brother came charging up.

“Have you told him?” burst in young ’Bert, and drew back at gaze, a foot within the threshold.

“Yes, I’ve told him,” answered ‘Beida.  “No, you needn’ stare so,” she went on hurriedly, catching him on the edge of confusion.  “It’ll be all right if you just answer up an’ tell the truth. . . .  When we was movin’ this afternoon, you an’ me took Mr Nanjivell’s savin’s away, the last thing—­didn’ we?”

“Then what have you done with them?” thundered Mr Pamphlett.

“Don’t you answer him that,” said ’Beida sweetly.  “But answer everything else.  An’ don’t you be afraid of him. I ben’t.”

“What d’ee want me to tell?” asked ’Bert, a trifle uneasily.

“Everything:  ’cept you may leave out ‘Biades.  He’s but a child o’ four, an’ don’t count.”

“Well,” said ’Bert, addressing Mr Pamphlett—­and his face, though pale, was dogged—­“if ‘Beida’s willin’, I’d as lief get it off my mind. . . .  The first thing, sir, was P’liceman Rat-it-all’s comin’ to me, Tuesday evenin’:  an’ he said to me, ‘What be you doin’ to occupy yourself as a Boy Scout, now that this here coast-watchin’s off?’—­”

“I didn’ say ‘off,’” interrupted Rat-it-all.  “I didn’ use no such low and incorrect expression.  My words was ’Now that this here coast-watchin’ has come to a ontimely end.’”

“I dessay that was the way you put it,” ’Bert admitted.  “When you starts talkin’ Lun’on, all I can follow is the sense—­an’ lucky if that.”

“Bodmin,” corrected Rat-it-all modestly.  “I don’t pretend to no more than the Provinces as yet:  though Lord knows where I may end.”

“Get on with the story, boy,” Mr Pamphlett commanded.

“Well, sir, I owned to him that I was left pretty well at a loose end, with nothin’ on hand but to think out how to do a Kind Action every day, as is laid down in the Scout Rules:  and it may come easy enough to you, sir,” added ’Bert with unconscious irony, “but I got no invention.  An’ his manner bein’ so friendly, I told him as how I was breakin’ my heart for a job.  ’Would ’ee like to catch a Spy—­a real German one?’ says he.  ’Get along with ‘ee, pullin’ my leg!’ says I.  ‘I ben’t pullin’ your leg,’ says he.  ‘I be offerin’ what may turn out to be the chance o’ your life, if you’re a smart chap an’ want promotion.’  ‘What is it?’ said I.  ’Well, I mention no names,’ said he, ’but you live in the same house with Nicholas Nanjivell.’  ‘We’re