er state a member of the Alpine
Club. Sometimes in its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for
half an inch or so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit.
Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life.
Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonised watch on his
slumbering fellow-traveller, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the ends
of his railway-rug to the racks on either side of the carriage, so that a
substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment. In the narrow
dressing-room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with violent haste
to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely from the
surrounding casings of tweed and half-wool. As the unravelled mouse gave
a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end,
also came down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the
awakened sleeper opened her eyes. With a movement almost quicker than
the mouse's, Theodoric pounced on the rug, and hauled its ample folds
chin-high over his dismantled person as he collapsed into the further
corner of the carriage. The blood raced and beat in the veins of his
neck and forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication-cord to
be pulled. The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at
her strangely muffled companion. How much had she seen, Theodoric
queried to himself, and in any case what on earth must she think of his
present posture?

"I think I have caught a chill," he ventured desperately.

"Really, I'm sorry," she replied. "I was just going to ask you if you
would open this window."

"I fancy it's malaria," he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as much
from fright as from a desire to support his theory.

"I've got some brandy in my hold-all, if you'll kindly reach it down for
me," said his companion.

"Not for worlds--I mean, I never take anything for it," he assured her
earnestly.

"I suppose you caught it in the Tropics?"

Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the Tropics was limited to an annual
present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that even the
malaria was slipping from him. Would it be possible, he wondered, to
disclose the real state of affairs to her in small instalments?

"Are you afraid of mice?" he ventured, growing, if possible, more scarlet
in the face.

"Not unless they came in quantities, like those that ate up Bishop Hatto.
Why do you ask?"

"I had one crawl