he fowls had had their moments of unrest since they had been our
property, but what they had gone through with us was peace compared
with what befell them then. Not even on that second evening of our
visit, when we had run unmeasured miles in pursuit of them, had there
been such confusion. Roused abruptly from their beauty sleep, they
fled in all directions. The summer evening was made hideous with the
noise of them.

"Disgraceful, sir. Is it not disgraceful!" said a voice at my ear.

The young man from Whiteley's stood beside me. He did not look happy.
His forehead was damp. Somebody seemed to have stepped on his hat and
his coat was smeared with mold.

I was turning to answer him, when from the dusk in the direction of
the house came a sudden roar. A passionate appeal to the world in
general to tell the speaker what all this meant.

There was only one man of my acquaintance with a voice like that. I
walked without hurry toward him.

"Good evening, Ukridge," I said.

AFTER THE STORM

XXIII

A yell of welcome drowned the tumult of the looters.

"Is that you, Garny, old horse? What's up? What's the matter? Has
everybody gone mad? Who are those blackguardly scoundrels in the fowl
run? What are they doing? What's been happening?"

"I have been entertaining a little meeting of your creditors," I said.
"And now they are entertaining themselves."

"But what did you let them do it for?"

"What is one among so many?" I said.

"Oh," moaned Ukridge, as a hen flashed past us, pursued by a criminal,
"it's a little hard. I can't go away for a day--"

"You can't," I said. "You're right there. You can't go away without a
word--"

"Without a word? What do you mean? Garny, old boy, pull yourself
together. You're overexcited. Do you mean to tell me you didn't get my
note?"

"What note?"

"The one I left on the dining-room table."

"There was no note there."

"What!"

I was reminded of the scene that had taken place on the first day of
our visit.

"Feel in your pockets," I said.

And history repeated itself. One of the first things he pulled out was
the note.

"Why, here it is!" he said in amazement.

"Of course. Where did you expect it to be? Was it important?"

"Why, it explained the whole thing."

"Then," I said, "I wish you'd let me read it. A note that can explain
what's happened ought to be worth reading."

I took the envelope from his hand and opened it.

It was too dark to read, so I