ny moment for all I knew.
It would be too much of a joke if Pugh's precious puzzle exploded in my
hand. I shook it doubtfully; nothing rattled. I held it to my ear. There
was not a sound. What had taken place? Had the clockwork run down, and was
the machine arranged with such a diabolical ingenuity that a certain,
interval was required, after the clockwork had run down, before an
explosion could occur? Or had rust caused the mechanism to again hang
fire?

"After making all that commotion the thing might at least come open." I
banged the box viciously against the corner of the table. I felt that I
would almost rather that an explosion should take place than that nothing
should occur. One does not care to be disturbed from one's sound slumber
in the small hours of the morning for a trifle.

"I've half a mind to get a hammer, and try, as they say in the cookery
books, another way."

Unfortunately I had promised Pugh to abstain from using force. I might
have shivered the box open with my hammer, and then explained that it had
fallen, or got trod upon, or sat upon, or something, and so got shattered,
only I was afraid that Pugh would not believe me. The man is himself such
an untruthful man that he is in a chronic state of suspicion about the
truthfulness of others.

"Well, if you're not going to blow up, or open, or something, I'll say
good night."

I gave the box a final rap with my knuckles and a final shake, replaced it
on the table, put out the gas, and returned to bed.

I was just sinking again into slumber, when that box began again. It was
true that Pugh had purchased the puzzle, but it was evident that the whole
enjoyment of the purchase was destined to be mine. It was useless to think
of sleep while that performance was going on. I sat up in bed once more.

"It strikes me that the puzzle consists in finding out how it is possible
to go to sleep with Pugh's purchase in your bedroom. This is far better
than the old-fashioned prescription of cats on the tiles."

It struck me the noise was distinctly louder than before; this applied
both to the tick, tick, tick, and the screeching.

"Possibly," I told myself, as I relighted the gas, "the explosion is to
come off this time."

I turned to look at the box. There could be no doubt about it; the noise
was louder. And, if I could trust my eyes, the box was moving--giving a
series of little jumps. This might have been an optical delusion, but it
seemed to me that