Mustapha spoke a few words to the negroes, who sheathed their weapons and stood away from the captive. Alf jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "'Op it!" he said, "and think yerself lucky to get off so easy." Bobby rose to his feet as majestically as his size permitted and proceeded to the door. He managed to convey the impression that he attributed his release entirely to his own intimidatory demeanor; but not until he had made sure that his retreat was not cut off did he speak. At the door he stopped, placed his right thumb on the point of his nose and spread out his fingers, at the same time displaying a large expanse of insolent tongue. "Yah!" he said--replacing his tongue for the purpose. "You just wait. You won't 'arf get it in the neck for this. I'll summons yer, see if I don't. Food-'og!" He was gone. On the drive his parent received him, with incredulous joy, as one returned from the tomb, greeting him--to his great embarrassment--with an unaccustomed kiss. Then, having cuffed him on the head to restore her self-respect, she led him down to the village, where Master Bobby found himself occupying a position in the public eye calculated to swell his head beyond all hope of recovery. But Bobby's threats and Bobby's taunts were alike immaterial to Alf. His mind was occupied with greater things. He went upstairs to Bill and found that sybarite placidly sleeping, while Lucy sat by his head rhythmically waving a fan. Mr. Montmorency's mouth was open and his snores reverberated through the room. Alf eyed him with disgust, and then woke him by the simple but efficacious method of kicking him in the ribs. He sat up and expostulated. "What the 'ell ... oh, it's you, is it?... Well, what d'yer mean by it? An' what's wrong now?" Alf glared at him morosely. "A lot you care," he returned. "'Ow much 'elp 'ave you given me over this job, you blinkin' soaker?" "If you wants a clip over the ear-'ole," began Bill, with heat, "you on'y got to go on askin' for it. As for 'elp, I'm waitin' till I'm needed. What's up now? 'Ave they slung you out o' the 'ouse, or what? _I_ can't 'elp yer table manners, you know." "She's engaged." "'Oo is?" "'Er--Miss FitzPeter." "'Oo to?" "Mr. Allen." Bill pursed up his lips into a silent whistle. "Lumme," he said, "I never thought of that." "No. You just lie 'ere swigging beer an' cuddlin' yer blinkin' Lucy. I'm fair ashamed to see yer. An' now the 'ole thing's over an' done with, an' you 'aven't lifted a finger." "There 'asn't been any need yet," said Bill coolly. "_This_ is where I come in." "But it's too late now." "That's all _you_ know. Why don't you read the book properly? Aladdin, 'e got into a much worse mess than what you 'ave, because 'is girl got married to the wrong man, instead o' just engaged." "What did 'e do then?"