the footman's hand upon it.

"Impossible to see Mr. Bruffin to-night--sir," said Charles. "I'm afraid
I must ask you to step outside."

His vision of what might be in those bloated pockets was only a little
less alarming than the reality.

But Dick felt he had only a drop or so of physical energy left; and so,
lest they should trickle from him, he used them now.

And Charles, lifted most disconcertingly by the slack of his breeches
and the stiffness of his resisting neck, was shifted quickly and
painfully to the doorstep, to hear the door close upon him before he
could turn to face it.

The house was new, even to its owners. Its rebuilding and exquisite
refitting had been a marvel for the magpie chorus of the occasional
column. The public already knew more of his new house than George
Bruffin could ever forget.

But Dick, who never read more of a newspaper than he must, knew only its
address and the day when George and his wife should go into residence.
This, he had remembered, was the first day of their second week, and,
even if George had already learned his way to his own study, Dick must
find means to reach him more expeditious than geographical exploration.

He looked about him, and his eye fell upon a thing of which George had
told him with pride almost boyish; a framework of shell-cases, graduated
from the slender treble of a shortened soizante-quinze to the deepest
base of a full-length monster from some growling siege-gun.

For George had done his portion of fighting and had collected this
material for a dinner gong, on which one might play with padded stick
anything from the "Devil's Tattoo" to "Caller Herrin'" or the "Wedding
March."

From the doorstep, the frantic Charles, with eyes rolling, saw the taxi.
What was in it he could not see, for the chauffeur stood blocking the
open window, watching, it appeared, whatever the cab might contain--wild
Bolshevists with bombs, perhaps, or soft litters of pedigree pups.

From Apsley House to Marble Arch, he felt, was never a policeman. He
could have embraced the hoariest of specials.

The service entrance was too far round. Before he could reach it all
might be over.

So, forgetting the bell, he turned and beat, with fists none too hard,
upon the door that was anything but soft. And cursed, as he had never
cursed man before, the architect whose enlightened scheme had found no
place for a knocker.

And with his first blow there burst out in the hall t