Inspector, as having been trepanned into an industrious hunt on a false scent. It may be remarked, in connection with that worthy officer, that a rumour shortly afterwards pervaded the Force, to the effect that he had confided to Miss Abbey Potterson, over a jug of mellow flip in the bar of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, that he “didn’t stand to lose a farthing” through Mr. Harmon’s coming to life, but was quite as well satisfied as if that gentleman had been barbarously murdered, and he ( Mr. Inspector) had pocketed the government reward.