Jane Hubbard returned from the drawing-room, where she had been
switching off the orchestrion.

"Let us talk all that over cosily to-morrow," she said. "The point now
is that there are burglars in the house."

"Burglars!" cried Mr. Bennett aghast. "I thought it was you playing that
infernal instrument, Mortimer."

"What on earth should I play it for at this time of night?" said Mr.
Mortimer irritably.

"It woke me up," said Mr. Bennett complainingly. "And I had had great
difficulty in dropping off to sleep. I was in considerable pain. I
believe I've caught the mumps from young Hignett."

"Nonsense! You're always imagining yourself ill," snapped Mr. Mortimer.

"My face hurts," persisted Mr. Bennett.

"You can't expect a face like that not to hurt," said Mr. Mortimer.

It appeared only too evident that the two old friends were again on the
verge of one of their distressing fallings-out; but Jane Hubbard
intervened once more. This practical-minded girl disliked the
introducing of side-issues into the conversation. She was there to talk
about burglars, and she intended to do so.

"For goodness sake stop it!" she said, almost petulantly for one usually
so superior to emotion. "There'll be lots of time for quarrelling
to-morrow. Just now we've got to catch these...."

"I'm not quarrelling," said Mr. Bennett.

"Yes, you are," said Mr. Mortimer.

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"Don't argue!"

"I'm not arguing!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!"

Jane Hubbard had practically every noble quality which a woman can
possess with the exception of patience. A patient woman would have stood
by, shrinking from interrupting the dialogue. Jane Hubbard's robuster
course was to raise the elephant-gun, point it at the front door, and
pull the trigger.

"I thought that would stop you," she said complacently, as the echoes
died away and Mr. Bennett had finished leaping into the air. She
inserted a fresh cartridge, and sloped arms. "Now, the question is...."

"You made me bite my tongue!" said Mr. Bennett, deeply aggrieved.

"Serve you right!" said Jane placidly. "Now, the question is, have the
fellows got away or are they hiding somewhere in the house? I think
they're still in the house."

"The police!" exclaimed Mr. Bennett, forgetting his lacerated tongue and
his other grievances. "We must summon the police!"

"Obviously!" said Mrs. Hignett, withdrawing her fascinated gaze from the
ragged hole in the front door, the cost of