gles," remonstrated Bindle with a grin, "I'm surprised at
you. 'Cos your family 'as shot the moon for years--'Uggles, I'm
pained."

Bindle duly returned the key to the police-station, put up the vans,
and himself saw that the horses were made comfortable for the night.
Whenever in charge of a job he always made this his own particular duty.

II

At six o'clock on the following afternoon a railway omnibus drew up at
the West Kensington police-station. In it were Mr. and Mrs.
Railton-Rogers, seven little Rogerses, a nursemaid, and what is known
in suburbia as a cook-general.

After some difficulty, Mr. Rogers, a bald-headed, thick-set man with
the fussy deportment of a Thames tug, extricated himself from his
progeny. After repeated injunctions to it to remain quiet, he
disappeared into the police-station and a few minutes later emerged
with the key.

"Don't do that, Eustace," he called out.

Eustace was doing nothing but press a particularly stubby nose against
the window of the omnibus; but Mr. Rogers was a man who must talk if
only to keep himself in practice. If nothing worthy of comment
presented itself, he would exclaim, apropos the slightest sound or
movement, "What's that?"

The omnibus started off again, and a few minutes later turned into
Branksome Road. It was Nelly, the second girl, aged eleven, who made
the startling discovery.

"Mother, mother, look at our house, it's empty!" she cried excitedly.

"Nelly, be quiet," commanded Mr. Rogers from sheer habit.

"But, father, father, look, look!" she persisted, pointing in the
direction of No. 131.

Mr. Rogers looked, and looked again. He then looked at his family as
if to assure himself of his own identity.

"Good God! Emily," he gasped (Emily was Mrs. Rogers), "look!"

Emily looked. She was a heavy, apathetic woman, who seemed always to
be a day in arrears of the amount of sleep necessary to her. A
facetious relative had dubbed her "the sleeping partner." From the
house Mrs. Rogers looked back to her husband, as if seeking her cue
from him.

"They've stolen my horse!" a howl of protest arose from Eustace, and
for once he went uncorrected.

The omnibus drew up with a groan and a squeak opposite to No. 131. Mr.
Rogers, followed by a stream of little Rogerses, bounded out and up the
path like a comet that had outstripped its tail. He opened the door
with almost incredible quickness, entered and rushed in and out of the
rooms like a