t ladder," Mark said.

"I beg your pardon, Lidderdale. I was under the impression for the
moment that I was going upstairs. I have really been so confused by
Confucius and by the extraordinary behaviour of the house to-night,
recoiling from me as it did, that for the moment I was under the
impression that I was going upstairs."

At this moment Mr. Mousley fell from the ladder, luckily on one of the
gymnasium mats.

"I do think it's a most ridiculous habit," he said, "not to place a
doormat in what I might describe as a suitable cavity. The number of
times in my life that I've fallen over doormats simply because people
will not take the trouble to make the necessary depression in the floor
with which to contain such a useful domestic receptacle you would
scarcely believe. I must have fallen over thousands of doormats in my
life," he shouted at the top of his voice.

"You'll wake everybody up in the house," Mark exclaimed in an agony.
"For heaven's sake keep quiet."

"Oh, we are in the house, are we?" said Mr. Mousley. "I'm very much
relieved to hear you say that, Lidderdale. For a brief moment, I don't
know why, I was almost as confused as Confucius as to where we were."

At this moment, candle in hand, and in a white flannel nightgown looking
larger than ever, Father Rowley appeared in the gallery above and
leaning over demanded who was there.

"Is that Father Rowley?" Mr. Mousley inquired with intense courtesy. "Or
do my eyes deceive me? You'll excuse me from replying to your apparently
simple question, Father Rowley, but I have met such a number of people
to-night including the son of a man who used to know my father that I
really don't know who _is_ there, although I'm inclined to think that
_I_ am here. But I've had a series of such a remarkable series of
adventures to-night that I should like your advice about them. I've been
spending a very intellectual evening, Father Rowley."

"Go to bed," said the mission priest severely. "I'll speak to you in the
morning."

"Father Rowley isn't annoyed with me, is he?" Mr. Mousley asked.

"I think he's rather annoyed at your being so late," said Mark.

"Late for what?"

"Is that you, Mark, down there?" asked the Missioner.

"I'm lighting Mr. Mousley across the gymnasium," Mark explained. "I
think I'd better take him up to his room."

"If your young friend is as clever at managing rooms as he is at
managing houses we shall get on splendidly, Father Rowley. I ha