“‘Oh, bad luck!’ cried Biggins in a cheery tone. ‘Don’t worry about the beer, Claydon – I’ll buy you another!’ Perhaps understandably, I had quite lost my taste for the whole enterprise, but in order not to appear rude, I acquiesced and stayed just long enough to hear the end of the story, then left the pub and set off for home. It was only a short distance to Kendal Terrace, and as I turned into the street I hoped fervently that none of my neighbours would catch sight of me, for I knew that in my dishevelled state I must present a very unattractive appearance. Fortunately, there were few people about, but I made sure that I had my latch-key ready and in my hand some time before I reached the house, for I wanted to slip in through the front door as quickly as possible. When I put the key in the lock, however, I found to my great surprise that it would not turn. I took it out and examined it, to make sure it was the correct key, then tried it again. Still it would not turn. I banged hard on the door knocker, and as I did so I glanced round. Some people on the other side of the street were staring at me and I began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“The door was opened after what seemed an age by a girl I had never seen before in my life, dressed neatly in a maid’s uniform. She had evidently put the chain on the door before she opened it, for it only opened a few inches. Upon her face was an odd, sullen sort of expression.

“‘What!’ I cried in surprise. ‘Who are you?’

“‘Pardon me,’ she returned in an impudent tone, ‘but who are you?’

“‘What do you mean?’ I demanded. ‘And why is the chain on the door?’

“‘To keep out prying busybodies like you!’

“‘How dare you!’ I cried. ‘This is my house!’

“‘Oh yes?’ said she. ‘And I’m the Empress of Japan! Be off with you, and stop being a nuisance to honest folk!’

“For a moment then, as I stood there, my mind seemed to reel in complete confusion, and I could not form a single logical thought, far less utter any aloud. So great was the shock of seeing this perfect stranger in my house that I was utterly dumbstruck. One can respond, adequately or otherwise, to all sorts of strange and surprising situations in which one occasionally finds oneself, but this was literally beyond the bounds of comprehension.

“The silence was broken by a second voice, from within the house.

“‘What is it? What is going on there?’ asked a woman’s voice, which sounded older and more cultured than the maid’s.

“‘There’s a dirty-looking rascal at the door, madam,’ replied the girl. ‘He’s trying to force his way into the house.’

“In a moment a second face had appeared above that of the maid, in the narrow gap between the door and the frame. She was a strong-featured woman, about five and thirty years of age. Although she was as much a stranger to me as the maid, there was something vaguely familiar about her appearance, and I wondered if I had seen her about somewhere.

“‘Well?’ demanded she. ‘What is it you want?’

“‘Want?’ I repeated. ‘I want to come in. This is my house, and I insist on knowing what you are doing in it!’

“‘Don’t be absurd!’ she returned sharply. ‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! If you don’t stop pestering us this minute, I shall call the police! Yes,’ she continued, looking past me and across the road, ‘there’s a policeman now. Constable!’ she called.

“I turned to see a large, formidable figure crossing the road towards us. He came up very close behind me, looming over me as it were, and addressed the woman.

“‘Yes, madam?’ said he. ‘What appears to be the trouble?’

“‘This man is making a nuisance of himself,’ said she. ‘He has tried to force his way into the house, he has frightened my maid, and he will not leave us alone!’

“‘Here, you!’ said the policeman to me. ‘You scoundrel! What’s your game?’

“Before I could reply, the woman spoke again. ‘He’s been drinking,’ said she. ‘He reeks of alcohol. And he appears to have been in a fight.’

“This is where my mishap in the public house played so unfortunate a part in the matter. Had my appearance been as normal, I might have had a slim chance of persuading the policeman to listen to my side of the matter. But my appearance told against me.

“‘Yes, madam,’ returned he, in answer to the woman’s observations. ‘I had noted the gentleman’s appearance. You, sir,’ he continued, addressing me, ‘are you not ashamed of yourself, getting into such a state?’

“‘I am not in a state,’ I retorted with some warmth, but the policeman did not seem to hear.

“‘I can assure you, sir, that had you been a common ruffian I should have run you in as soon as look at you. It is evident, however, from your dress’ – here he looked me up and down appraisingly – ‘that you were once a gentleman. But look at you now! Your hat is ruined, your shirt and waistcoat are stained with beer, your suit is sodden and crumpled. Just think what your poor mother would say if she could see you now!’

“‘My mother?’ I cried in surprise. ‘What the deuce has my mother got to do with it?’

“The policeman held up his hand and frowned, as if admonishing me for speaking so sharply. ‘A word of advice, sir: never turn your back on your mother. If you do, you will be turning your back on the truest friend you ever had and will regret it to your dying day.’

“‘I am not turning my back on my mother,’ I cried in exasperation. ‘But my mother is irrelevant to the situation. In any case, I am a married man!’

“‘Very well, then, sir, consider the feelings of your poor dear wife, waiting at home alone while you stagger about the streets in this intoxicated fashion. Take my advice, sir, go home now, sleep it off, and vow that tomorrow you will make a fresh start!’

“‘I am trying to go home!’ I protested. ‘This is my home!’

“‘What nonsense!’ cried the woman. ‘Why, I have never seen this man before in my life!’

“The policeman nodded. ‘And you, sir?’ he asked, turning to me. ‘Have you ever seen this lady before?’

“‘No, I certainly have not,’ I replied vehemently.

“‘Well, then? Don’t you think you ought to run along and stop making a nuisance of yourself?’

“I hesitated. So monstrously unfair did all this seem that I was quite at a loss for words. Then my eye lit on the sign beside the door. It is a small oblong piece of wood, bearing the name ‘Worthing Villa’. I made it myself and put it up just three weeks ago, after I had read an article in a magazine that described how to inscribe lettering on wood with a red-hot poker. My wife and I wished to commemorate the very happy holiday we spent last summer in Worthing.

“‘I can prove to you that this is my house,’ said I to the policeman. ‘You see that sign?’

“‘Yes, sir,’ he replied cautiously.

“‘I made it.’

“The policeman turned his gaze from the sign to me, and I could see at once, from the expression on his face, that I had made a mistake. For although my statement was perfectly true, it must have seemed just the sort of stupid and unbelievable thing that a real liar would have said. So far from establishing the truth of my story, therefore, it merely served to confirm my mendacity in the policeman’s eyes.

“‘I shall give you one last chance,’ said he. ‘If you clear off in the next ten seconds, I shall let you go. If you are still here in ten seconds’ time, I shall march you straight round to Brixton Police Station, where you will be charged with causing a breach of the peace, and will spend the night in the cells.’

“I could see that he was in earnest. This left me little choice. I hesitated but two seconds of the allotted ten, then turned, ran off down the road, and did not stop running until I had put some distance between me and Kendal Terrace. I felt in a state of complete despair. What had happened to the world? Where was my wife? Where were my own servants?