"I 've lost my memory," he said.
"Lost your what?" said the policeman, half threatening and half in doubt, hesitating in his venal mind between a really good cop and the disastrous results of interfering with a toff; when, before a reply could be given to so simple a query, an authoritative voice and strong step were heard together pushing through the crowd outside, and there came into the mean place the excellently dressed figure and strong young face of Jimmy.
They say that the youngest generals make the best tacticians, though sometimes the worst strategists. Jimmy acted like lightning.
"There you are!" he said genially to Mr. Higginson—and a little shriek automatically cut itself short in the Professor's throat and ended in a gurgle.
"There you are!" he said again, laying a powerful left hand upon Mr. Higginson's shoulder—and it was pitiful to see the Pragmatist shrink as he did so.
Jimmy turned round and gazed in a pained but authoritative way at the policeman, who instinctively touched his helmet, recognising the master-class.
"It 's my father, officer," said Jimmy, gently and sadly.
