mmering on the front-door with his fists. There is no knocker to the
plain-living, high-thinking house.

Oswald controlled his fears, if he had any (I am not going to say
whether he had or hadn't), and struck a match. Before the candle had had
time to settle its flame after the first flare up that doesn't last, the
row began again.

Oswald's nerves are of iron, but it would have given anybody a start to
see two white figures in the doorway, yet so it was. They proved to be
Alice and Dora in their nighties; but no one could blame anyone for not
being sure of this at first.

'Is it burglars?' said Dora; and her teeth did chatter, whatever she may
say.

'_I_ think it's Mrs. Beale,' said Alice. 'I expect she's forgotten the
key.'

Oswald pulled his watch out from under his pillow.

'It's half-past one,' he said.

And then the knocking began again. So the intrepid Oswald went to the
landing window that is over the front-door. The others went too. And he
opened the window in his pyjamas and said, 'Who's there?'

There was the scraping sound of boots on the doorstep, as somebody down
there stepped back.

'Is this the way to Ashford?' said the voice of a man.

'Ashford's thirteen miles off,' said Oswald. 'You get on to the Dover
road.'

'I don't want to get on the Dover road,' said the voice; 'I've had
enough of Dover.'

A thrill ran through every heart. We all told each other so afterwards.

'Well,' said Dicky, 'Ashford's thirteen miles----'

'Anybody but you in the house?'

'Say we've got men and dogs and guns,' whispered Dora.

'There are six of us,' said Oswald, 'all armed to the teeth.'

The stranger laughed.

'I'm not a burglar,' he said; 'I've lost my way, that's all. I thought I
should have got to Ashford before dusk, but I missed the way. I've been
wandering all over these marshes ever since, in the rain. I expect
they're out after me now, but I'm dead beat. I can't go on. Won't you
let me in? I can sit by the kitchen fire.'

Oswald drew his head back through the window, and a hasty council took
place on the landing.

'It _is_,' said Alice.

'You heard what he said about Dover, and their being out after him?'

'I say, you might let a chap in,' said the voice outside. 'I'm perfectly
respectable. Upon my word I am.'

'I wish he hadn't said that,' whispered Dora. [** ']Such a dreadful
story! And we didn't even ask him if he was.'

'He sounds very tired,' said Alice.

'And wet,' said Oswal