“Oi wuz standing on th’ fire-escape, sorr,” said Officer Donahue, in a tone of obsequious respect which not only delighted, but astounded Archie, who hadn’t known he could talk like that, “accordin’ to instructions, when I heard a suspicious noise.  I crope in, sorr, and found this duck—­found the accused, sorr—­in front of the mirror, examinin’ himself.  I then called to Officer Cassidy for assistance.  We pinched—­arrested um, sorr.”

The captain looked at Archie.  It seemed to Archie that he looked at him coldly and with contempt.

“Who is he?”

“The Master-Mind, sorr.”

“The what?”

“The accused, sorr.  The man that’s wanted.”

“You may want him.  I don’t,” said the captain.  Archie, though relieved, thought he might have put it more nicely.  “This isn’t Moon.  It’s not a bit like him.”

“Absolutely not!” agreed Archie, cordially.  “It’s all a mistake, old companion, as I was trying to—­”

“Cut it out!”

“Ob, right-o!”

“You’ve seen the photographs at the station.  Do you mean to tell me you see any resemblance?”

“If ye plaze, sorr,” said Officer Cassidy, coming to life.

“Well?”

“We thought he’d bin disguising himself, the way he wouldn’t be recognised.”

“You’re a fool!” said the captain.

“Yes, sorr,” said Officer Cassidy, meekly.

“So are you, Donahue.”

“Yes, sorr.”

Archie’s respect for this chappie was going up all the time.  He seemed to be able to take years off the lives of these massive blighters with a word.  It was like the stories you read about lion-tamers.  Archie did not despair of seeing Officer Donahue and his old college chum Cassidy eventually jumping through hoops.

“Who are you?” demanded the captain, turning to Archie.

“Well, my name is—­”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s rather a longish story, you know.  Don’t want to bore you, and all that.”

“I’m here to listen.  You can’t bore me.”

“Dashed nice of you to put it like that,” said Archie, gratefully.  “I mean to say, makes it easier and so forth.  What I mean is, you know how rotten you feel telling the deuce of a long yarn and wondering if the party of the second part is wishing you would turn off the tap and go home.  I mean—­”

“If,” said the captain, “you’re reciting something, stop.  If you’re trying to tell me what you’re doing here, make it shorter and easier.”

Archie saw his point.  Of course, time was money—­the modern spirit of hustle—­all that sort of thing.

“Well, it was this bathing suit, you know,” he said.

“What bathing suit?”

“Mine, don’t you know, A lemon-coloured contrivance.  Rather bright and so forth, but in its proper place not altogether a bad egg.  Well, the whole thing started, you know, with my standing on a bally pedestal sort of arrangement in a diving attitude—­for the cover, you know.  I don’t know if you have ever done anything of that kind yourself, but it gives you a most fearful crick in the spine.  However, that’s rather beside the point, I suppose—­don’t know why I mentioned it.  Well, this morning he was dashed late, so I went out—­”