Basket's. Even supposing that their friend had fallen a victim
to the press while walking the streets, they must admit it to be
inconceivable that he should return and cast a latchkey and a
snuff-box into Mr. Basket's fish-pond.
"_Cui bono?_" asked the Chief Constable.
"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Basket.
"Well, in other words, what do you suggest he did it for? It's an
expression we use in these cases."
The Doctor granted the force of the Chief Constable's reasoning, but
suggested that there could be no harm in rowing round the Fleet and
making inquiries.
The Chief Constable answered again that the squadron--it was no more
than a squadron--had taken precious good care to time the press for
the eve of sailing; had in fact weighed anchor in the small hours of
the morning, and by this time had probably joined Admiral
Cornwallis's fleet off Brest.
What was to be done?
"In my belief," said the Chief Constable, "it's a case of foul play.
Mind, I'm not accusing anyone," he went on; "but this person
disappeared from your house, Mr. Basket, and in your place I'd put
myself right with the public by getting out a handbill at once."
This dreadful possibility of coming under public suspicion had never
occurred to Mr. Basket. He begged to be supplied at once with pen,
ink and paper.
"'Lost, stolen or strayed'--is that how you begin?"
"If you ask me," said the Chief Constable, "I'd put him down as
'Missing.
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