ale
suggested by the Long Hall. A giant fireplace still equipped with
three-legged pots, toasting irons, and spits was at one side, its brick
oven beside it. But a very modern range and sink faced it.

In the center of the room was a large table, while along the far wall
were closed cupboards. Save for its size and the novelty of the
fireplace, it was an ordinary kitchen, complete to red-checked curtains
at the windows. Pleasant and homey, Val thought rather wistfully. But
that was before the coming of that night when Ricky walked in the garden
and he heard something stir in the Long Hall--which should have been
empty--

"Val! Rupert!" A cry which started valiantly became a wail as it echoed
through empty rooms. "Where are yo-o-ou!"

"Here, in the kitchen," Val shouted back.

A moment later Ricky stood in the doorway, her face flushed and her
usually correct curls all on end.

"Mean, selfish, utterly selfish pigs!" she burst out. "Leaving me all
alone in the dark! And it's so dark!"

"We just went down to turn on the lights," Val began.

"So I see." With a sniff she looked about her. "It took two of you to do
that. But it only required one of me to make three beds. Well, this is a
warning to me. Next time--" she did not finish her threat. "I suppose
you want some supper?"

Rupert was already at the cupboards. "That," he agreed, "is the general
idea."

"Beans or--" Ricky's hand closed upon Val's arm with a nipper-like grip.
"What," her voice was a thin thread of sound, "was that?"

Above the steady beat of the rain they heard a noise which was half
scratch, half thud. Under Rupert's hand the latch of the cupboard
clicked.

"Back door," he said laconically.

"Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val
longed to twist out of her grip.

The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying
bolt.

"Something's there," breathed Ricky.

"Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val
assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden.

The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadow
which leaped for the security of the center of the room.

"Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm.

In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood a
ruffled and oversized black tom-cat.

CHAPTER II

THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE

"Nice of you to drop in, old man," commented Rup