“That doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t it?  All right.  You get up at three tomorrow and think of me all warm in bed, and see whether it counts.  By the way, don’t say you wear pyjamas, because I can’t bear it.”

Miss Doiran addressed our companion.

“Is he often like this, Nobby?”

I explained.

“It’s not idle curiosity.  You see, I’m editing a directory to be called That’s That.  It’s really a short list of the few nice people left who aren’t anybody:  with just a word or two about their manners, failings, virtues, if any, and the attire they usually affect when off duty.  It won’t say when they were born, but why they were born.”

“That’ll sell it,” said Miss Doiran.

“So you see.  May I know now, or must I wait outside the bathroom?”

“I’m afraid,” said Miss Doiran, “that you must wait outside the bathroom.”

I sighed.

“If it is pyjamas,” said I, “I shall scream.”

Some geese hissed as we swept by.  The noise was inaudible, but the hostility of their gesture was patent.  Its effect upon Nobby was electrical.  Exasperated to madness by the gratuitous insult, he made the most violent attempts to leave the car, only pausing the better to lift up his voice and rave at his, by this time distant, tormentors.  His dignity was outraged and, what was much worse, unavenged.

“D’you still want him?” I shouted, holding fast to his collar with one hand, while with the other I strove to muffle his cries with the rug.

“Every time.”

I swallowed before replying.

“Of course, this is exceptional,” I said weakly.  “He can be very good if he likes.”

Miss Doiran laughed.

“I believe you just dote on him.”

I lugged the white scrap out of the welter of rug and set him up on my knees.  Surprised, he stopped barking and looked me full in the eyes.  Then he thrust a cold nose into my face.  Almost roughly I put him away.

“I believe you’re right,” I said.

Ten minutes later we drove up to Flail Police Station.

I thrust Nobby under my arm and stepped out of the car.  Then I turned to the girl.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” I said.

“Right oh!”

Sure enough it was my dispatch-case.  In some embarrassment I described the ridiculous contents.  Then I produced the key and confirmed my own words.

“I must say,” I said, “you haven’t wasted much time.  How did you recover it?”

The inspector in charge looked grave.

“’E’s a nice little lot, what took this case, sir.  I shouldn’t wonder if there was ’alf a dozen warrants out for ’im.  As plausible a rogue as ever I see, an’ as full o’ swank as a negg is o’ meat.  Told us the tale proper, ‘e did.  One o’ the kind as gets through by sheer nerve.  Now, nine out o’ ten’d ’ave bin through this ’ere case last night and throwed it away.  But ’e’s not that sort.  Walks through the town this afternoon with it under ’is arm, as bold as brass.”  A ‘plain-clothes’ man entered and stood waiting.  “All ready?  Right.”  He turned again to me.  “An’ now, sir, we’ll be obliged if you’ll step into the yard and see if you see anybody you recognize.  I’d like the identification to be regular.”