‘Ye’ll settle wi’ the Baillie in the morning,’ said the policeman.

Things were looking untoward.

‘Look here,’ said Merton, ’I quite understand your point of view, it does credit to your intelligence.  You take me for an English tourist, behaving as I have done by way of a joke, or for a bet?’

‘That’s it, sir,’ said the spokesman.

’Well, it does look like that.  But which of you is the senior officer here?’

‘Me, sir,’ said the last speaker.

’Very well, if you can be so kind as to call the officer in charge of the station, or even one of senior standing—­the higher the better—­I can satisfy him as to my identity, and as to my reasons for behaving as I have done.  I assure you that it is a matter of the very gravest importance.  If the inspector, when he has seen me, permits, I have no objections to you, or to all of you hearing what I have to say.  But you will understand that this is a matter for his own discretion.  If I were merely playing the fool, you must see that I have nothing to gain by giving additional annoyance and offence.’

‘Very well, sir, I will bring the officer in charge,’ said the policeman.

‘Just tell him about my arrest and so on,’ said Merton.

In a few minutes he returned with his superior.

‘Well, my man, what’s a’ this aboot?’ said that officer sternly.

’If you can give me an interview, alone, for five minutes, I shall enlighten you,’ said Merton.

The officer was a huge and stalwart man.  He threw his eye over Merton.  ‘Wait in the yaird,’ he said to his minions, who retreated rather reluctantly.  ‘Weel, speak up,’ said the officer.

‘It is the body snatching case at Kirkburn,’ said Merton.

‘Do ye mean that ye’re an English detective?’

’No, merely a friend of Mr. Logan’s who left Kirkburn this evening.  I have business to do for him in London in connection with the case—­business that nobody can do but myself—­and the house was watched.  I escaped in the disguise which you see me wearing, and had to throw off a gang of ruffians that accompanied me in the train by pretending to be drunk.  I could only shake them off and destroy the suspicions which they expressed by getting arrested.’

‘It’s a queer story,’ said the policeman.

’It is a queer story, but, speaking without knowledge, I think your best plan is to summon the chief of your detective department, I need his assistance.  And I can prove my identity to him—­to you, if you like, but you know best what is official etiquette.’

‘I’ll telephone for him, sir.’

’You are very obliging.  All this is confidential, you know.  Expense is no object to Mr. Logan, and he will not be ungrateful if strict secrecy is preserved.  But, of all things, I want a wash.’

‘All right, sir,’ said the policeman, and in a few minutes Merton’s head, hands, and neck, were restored to their pristine propriety.