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Updated: June 14, 2025
And as he turned, his gaze, which had shifted only to get away from hers, was suddenly arrested and became fixed. In the corner of the room, beside the bookcase holding the works of Conant, Willoughby, and Smathers, lay the great pleasure-dog Behemoth, leonine head sunk upon two massive outstretched paws.
And this was the man that he Police Constable Samuel James Collins had actually had in his hands; nay, in his very arms, and then had given up for half a sovereign and let go! "Oh, so help me! You make my head swim, Smathers, that you do!" he managed to say at last.
And long after Smathers and Petrie had left him, the wondering crowd had dispersed, and point duty at "Dead Man's Corner" was just point duty again and nothing more, P. C. Collins stood there, chewing the cud of bitter reflection over those words and trying to reckon up just how many pounds and how much glory had been lost to him. "But, damme, sir, the thing's an outrage!
Did yourself out of a share in a reward of two hundred quid when you'd only to shut your hands and hold on to it!" "Two hundred quid? Two hun W-what are you talking about? Wasn't it true? Wasn't it a kinematograph picture, after all?" "No, you fool, no!" howled Smathers, fairly dancing with despair. "Oh, you blithering idiot! You ninety-seven varieties of a fool!
You heard me signal you to head him off, didn't you?" replied Smathers, looking round and growing suddenly excited when he realized that Collins was empty-handed and that the red-headed man was not there. "Heavens! you never let him get away, did you? You grabbed him, didn't you eh?" "Of course I grabbed him. Come out of it.
Smathers and Petrie lifted up their voices in one despairing howl. "When you what?" fairly yelled Smathers. "You fool! You don't mean to tell me that you let them take you in like that those two? You don't mean to tell me that you had him had him in your hands and then let him go? You did? Oh! you seventy-seven kinds of a double-barrelled ass! Had him think of it! had him, and let him go!
And this was the man that he, Police Constable Samuel James Collins, had actually had in his hands, nay, in his very arms, and then had given up for half a sovereign and let go! "Oh, so help me! You make my head swim, Smathers, that you do!" he managed to say at last.
"Hullo, Smathers, you in this, too?" began he, his feelings softened by the knowledge that other arms of the law would figure on that film with him at the Alhambra to-night. "Now, what are you after, you goat? That French lady, or the red-headed party in the grey suit?" "Yes, yes, of course I am.
Did yourself out of a share in a reward of two hundred quid when you'd only to shut your hands and hold on to it!" "Two hundred quid? Two hun W what are you talking about? Wasn't it true? Wasn't it a kinematograph picture, after all?" "No, you fool, no!" howled Smathers, fairly dancing with despair. "Oh, you blithering idiot! You ninety-seven varieties of a fool!
"Most attractive diners and weekenders," said I. "They got all the laughs at your dinner to the Archbishop of Decanterbury, and their man Smathers tells me they're the swellest things going at week-end parties because of his ingenuity at cotillion leading and her undeniable charms as a flirt. By Jove! she's that easy with men that even I tremble with anxiety whenever she comes into the house."
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