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Jane Hubbard laughed。
〃Murder me ！〃 she said； amusedly。 〃I'd like to catch them at it！〃
Mrs。 Hignett stood staring at the door as Jane closed it safely behind her。
〃Eustace；〃 she said； solemnly； 〃that is a wonderful girl！〃
〃Yes！ She once killed a pantheror a puma； I forget whichwith a hat…pin！〃 said Eustace with enthusiasm。
〃I could wish you no better wife！〃 said Mrs。 Hignett。
She broke off with a sharp wail。。。。 Out in the passage something like a battery of artillery had roared。
The door opened and Jane Hubbard appeared； slipping a fresh cartridge into the elephant…gun。
〃One of them was popping about outside here；〃 she announced。 〃I took a shot at him； but I'm afraid I missed。 The visibility was bad。 At any rate he went away。〃
In this last statement she was perfectly accurate。 Bream Mortimer； who had been aroused by the orchestrion and who had e out to see what was the matter； had gone away at the rate of fifty miles an hour。 He had been creeping down the passage when he found himself suddenly confronted by a dim figure which； without a word； had attempted to slay him with an enormous gun。 The shot had whistled past his ears and gone singing down the corridor。 This was enough for Bream。 He had returned to his room in three strides； and was now under the bed。 The burglars might take everything in the house and wele； so that they did not molest his privacy。 That was the way Bream looked at it。 And very sensible of him； too； I consider。
〃We'd better go downstairs；〃 said Jane。 〃Bring the candle。 Not you； Eustace； darling。 Don't you stir out of bed！〃
〃I won't；〃 said Eustace obediently。
3
Of all the leisured pursuits； there are few less attractive to the thinking man than sitting in a dark cupboard waiting for a house…party to go to bed： and Sam； who had established himself in the one behind the piano at a quarter to eight； soon began to feel as if he had been there for an eternity。 He could dimly remember a previous existence in which he had not been sitting in his present position； but it seemed so long ago that it was shadowy and unreal to him。 The ordeal of spending the evening in this retreat had not appeared formidable when he had contemplated it that afternoon in the lane： but； now that he was actually undergoing it； it was extraordinary how many disadvantages it had。
Cupboards； as a class； are badly ventilated； and this one seemed to contain no air at all： and the warmth of the night； bined with the cupboard's natural stuffiness； had soon begun to reduce Sam to a condition of pulp。 He seemed to himself to be sagging like an ice…cream in front of a fire。 The darkness； too； weighed upon him。 He was abominably thirsty。 Also he wanted to smoke。 In addition to this； the small of his back tickled； and he more than suspected the cupboard of harboring mice。 Not once nor twice but many hundred times he wished that the ingenious Webster had thought of something simpler。
His was a position which would just have suited one of those Indian mystics who sit perfectly still for twenty years； contemplating the Infinite； but it reduced Sam to an almost imbecile state of boredom。 He tried counting sheep。 He tried going over his past life in his mind from the earliest moment he could recollect； and thought he had never encountered a duller series of episodes。 He found a temporary solace by playing a succession of mental golf…games over all the courses he could remember； and he was just teeing up for the sixteenth at Muirfield； after playing Hoylake； St。 Andrews； Westward Ho； Hanger Hill； Mid…Surrey； Walton Heath； Garden City； and the Engineers' Club at Roslyn； L。 I。； when the light ceased to shine through the crack under the door； and he awoke with a sense of dull incredulity to the realisation that the occupants of the drawing…room had called it a day and that his vigil was over。
But was it？ Once more alert； Sam became cautious。 True； the light seemed to be off； but did that mean anything in a country…house； where people had the habit of going and strolling about the garden at all hours？ Probably they were still popping about all over the place。 At any rate； it was not worth risking ing out of his lair。 He remembered that Webster had promised to e and knock an all…clear signal on the door。 It would be safer to wait for that。
But the moments went by； and there was no knock。 Sam began to grow impatient。 The last few minutes of waiting in a cupboard are always the hardest。 Time seemed to stretch out again interminably。 Once he thought he heard foot…steps； but that led to nothing。 Eventually； having strained his ears and finding everything still； he decided to take a chance。 He fished in his pocket for the key； cautiously unlocked the door； opened it by slow inches； and peered out。
The room was in blackness。 The house was still。 All was well。 With the feeling of a life…prisoner emerging from the Bastille； he began to crawl stiffly forward： and it was just then that the first of the disturbing events occurred which were to make this night memorable to him。 Something like a rattlesnake suddenly went off with a whirr； and his head； jerking up； collided with the piano。 It was only the cuckoo…clock； which now； having cleared its throat as was its custom before striking； proceeded to cuck eleven times in rapid succession before subsiding with another rattle： but to Sam it sounded like the end of the world。
He sat in the darkness； massaging his bruised skull。 His hours of imprisonment in the cupboard had had a bad effect on his nervous system； and he vacillated between tears of weakness and a militant desire to get at the cuckoo…clock with a hatchet。 He felt that it had done it on purpose and was now chuckling to itself in fancied security。 For quite a minute he raged silently； and any cuckoo…clock which had strayed within his reach would have had a bad time of it。 Then his attention was diverted。
So concentrated was Sam on his private vendetta with the clock that no ordinary happening would have had the power to distract him。 What occurred now was by no means ordinary； and it distracted him like an electric shock。 As he sat on the floor； passing a tender hand over the egg…shaped bump which had already begun to manifest itself beneath his hair； something cold and wet touched his face； and paralysed him so pletely both physically and mentally that he did not move a muscle but just congealed where he sat into a solid block of ice。 He felt vaguely that this was the end。 His heart stopped beating and he simply could not imagine it ever starting again； and； if your heart refuses to beat； what hope is there for you？
At this moment something heavy and solid struck him squarely in the chest； rolling him over。 Something gurgled asthmatically in the darkness。 Something began to lick his eyes； ears； and chin in a sort of ecstasy： and； clutching out； he found his arms full of totally unexpected bulldog。 〃Get out！〃 whispered Sam tensely； recovering his faculties with a jerk。 〃Go away！〃
Smith took the opportunity of his lips having opened to lick the roof of his mouth。 Smith's attitude in the matter was that providence in its all…seeing wisdom had sent him a human being at a moment when he had reluctantly been pelled to reconcile himself to a total absence of such indispensable adjuncts to a good time； and that now the revels might mence。 He had just trotted downstairs in rather a disconsolate frame of mind after waiting with no result in front of Webster's bedroom door； and it was a real treat to him to meet a man； especially one seated in such a jolly and sociable manner on the floor。 He weled Sam like a long…lost friend。
Between Smith and the humans who provided him with dog…biscuits and occasionally with sweet cakes there had always existed a state of misunderstanding which no words could remove。 The position of the humans was quite clear。 They had elected Smith to his present position on a straight watch…dog ticket。 They expected him to be one of those dogs who rouse the house and save the spoons。 They looked to him to pin burglars by the leg and hold on till the police arrived。 Smith simply could not grasp such an attitude of mind。 He regarded Windles not as a private house but as a social club； and was utterly unable to see any difference between the human beings he knew and the strangers who dropped in for a late chat after the place was locked up。 He had no intention of biting Sam。 The idea never entered his head。 At the present moment what he felt about Sam was that he was one of the best fellows he had ever met and that he loved him like a brother。
Sam； in his unnerved state； could not bring himself to share these amiable sentiments。 He was thinking bitterly that Webster might have had the intelligence to warn him of bulldogs on the premises。 It was just the sort of woollen…headed thing fellows did； forgetting facts like that。 He scrambled stiffly to his feet and tried to pierce the darkness that hemmed him in。 He ignored Smith； who snuffled sportively about his ankles； and made for the slightly less black oblong which he took to be the door leading into the hall。 He moved warily； but not warily enough to prevent him cannoning into and almost upsetting a small table with a vase on it。 The tabl