back
with the muzzle of her weapon. "Something accomplished, something done,
has earned a night's repose. Not that we're going to get it yet. I think
those fellows are hiding somewhere, and we ought to search the house and
rout them out. It's a pity Smith isn't a bloodhound. He's a good
cake-hound, but as a watch-dog he doesn't finish in the first ten."

The cake-hound, charmed at the compliment, frisked about her feet like a
young elephant.

"The first thing to do," continued Jane, "is to go through the
ground-floor rooms...." She paused to strike a match against the suit of
armour nearest to her, a proceeding which elicited a sharp cry of
protest from Mrs. Hignett, and lit a cigarette. "I'll go first, as I've
got a gun...." She blew a cloud of smoke. "I shall want somebody with me
to carry a light, and...."

"Tchoo!"

"What?" said Jane.

"I didn't speak," said Mr. Mortimer. "Who am I to speak?" he went on
bitterly. "Who am I that it should be supposed that I have anything
sensible to suggest?"

"Somebody spoke," said Jane. "I...."

"Achoo!"

"Do you feel a draught, Mr. Bennett?" cried Jane sharply, wheeling round
on him.

"There _is_ a draught," began Mr. Bennett.

"Well, finish sneezing and I'll go on."

"I didn't sneeze!"

"Somebody sneezed."

"It seemed to come from just behind you," said Mrs. Hignett nervously.

"It couldn't have come from just behind me," said Jane, "because there
isn't anything behind me from which it could have...." She stopped
suddenly, in her eyes the light of understanding, on her face the set
expression which was wont to come to it on the eve of action. "Oh!" she
said in a different voice, a voice which was cold and tense and
sinister. "Oh, I see!" She raised her gun, and placed a muscular
forefinger on the trigger. "Come out of that!" she said. "Come out of
that suit of armour and let's have a look at you!"

"I can explain everything," said a muffled voice through the vizor of
the helmet. "I can--_achoo_!" The smoke of the cigarette tickled Sam's
nostrils again, and he suspended his remarks.

"I shall count three," said Jane Hubbard, "One--two--"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" said Sam petulantly.

"You'd better!" said Jane.

"I can't get this dashed helmet off!"

"If you don't come quick, I'll blow it off."

Sam stepped out into the hall, a picturesque figure which combined the
costumes of two widely separated centuries. Modern as far as the neck,
he slipped back