een his
lips, arguing that the effect was the same.

Mr. Bolton had donned his fez and velvet smoking-jacket above creased
white pyjama trousers that refused to meet the tops of his felt
slippers. Mr. Bolton continued to make "jokes," for the same reason
that Mr. Sefton smoked a cigarette.

Mr. Cordal was negative in a big ulster with a hem of nightshirt
beneath, leaving about eight inches of fleshless shin before his carpet
slippers with the fur-tops were reached. He sat gazing with unseeing
eyes at the cook huddled up opposite, moaning as she held her heart
with a fat, dirty hand.

Mrs. Barnes, the victim of indecision, had leapt straight out of bed,
gathered her clothes in her arms and had flown to safety. She walked
about the kitchen aimlessly, dropping and retrieving various garments,
which she stuffed back again into the bundle she carried under her arm.

Mrs. Craske-Morton was practical and courageous. Her one thought was
to prepare the promised refreshments. Her staff, with the exception of
Gustave, was useless, and she was grateful to Patricia for her
assistance.

Outside pandemonium was raging, the noise of the barrage was
diabolical, the "bouncing" of the heavy guns, the screams of the
"whiz-bangs," the cackle of machine-guns from aeroplanes overhead; all
seemed to tell of death and chaos.

Suddenly the puny sound of guns was drowned in one gigantic uproar.
For a moment the place was plunged in darkness, then the electric light
shuddered into being again. The glass flew from the windows, the house
rocked as if uncertain whether or no it should collapse. Miss Wangle
slipped on to her knees, her wig slipped on to her left ear.

"Oh, my God!" screamed the cook, as if to ensure exclusive rights to
the Deity's attention.

Jenny, the housemaid, entirely unconscious that her nightdress was her
sole garment, threw herself flat on her face. Mrs. Craske-Morton, who
was pouring out tea, let the teapot slip from her hand, smashing the
cup and pouring the contents on to the table. Gustave's knees refused
their office and he sank down, grasping with both hands the edge of the
table. Mrs. Barnes dropped her clothes without troubling to retrieve
them.

Suddenly there was a terrifying scream outside, then a motor-car drew
up and the sound of men's voices was heard.

Still the guns thundered. Patricia felt herself trembling. For a
moment a rush of blood seemed to suffocate her, then she found herself