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           Itoldmyselfitwassheersillyconceit,thatfourorfiveofthecleverestpeopleliving,withallthemightoftheBritishEmpireattheirback,hadthejobinhand.YetIcouldn’tbeconvinced.Itseemedasifavoicekeptspeakinginmyear,tellingmetobeupanddoing,orIwouldneversleepagain.

           Theupshotwasthatabouthalf-pastnineImadeupmymindtogotoQueenAnne’sGate.VerylikelyIwouldnotbeadmitted,butitwouldeasemyconsciencetotry.

           IwalkeddownJermynStreet,andatthecornerofDukeStreetpassedagroupofyoungmen.Theywereineveningdress,hadbeendiningsomewhere,andweregoingontoamusic-hall.OneofthemwasMrMarmadukeJopley.

           Hesawmeandstoppedshort.

           “ByGod,themurderer!”hecried.“Here,youfellows,holdhim!That’sHannay,themanwhodidthePortlandPlacemurder!”Hegrippedmebythearm,andtheotherscrowdedround.Iwasn’tlookingforanytrouble,butmyill-tempermademeplaythefool.Apolicemancameup,andIshouldhavetoldhimthetruth,and,ifhedidn’tbelieveit,demandedtobetakentoScotlandYard,orforthatmattertothenearestpolicestation.Butadelayatthatmomentseemedtomeunendurable,andthesightofMarmie’simbecilefacewasmorethanIcouldbear.Iletoutwithmyleft,andhadthesatisfactionofseeinghimmeasurehislengthinthegutter.

           Thenbegananunholyrow.Theywereallonmeatonce,andthepolicemantookmeintherear.