No sooner had Jellia disappeared, than the old rascal sprang nimbly to his feet and began to peer eagerly all around him. Passing hurriedly over a rich gold service on the sideboard, he pounced upon an earthen jug on a crystal stand and tucking it under his robe, slipped silently as a shadow out of the dining hall, up the green carpeted stairs and straight into the private sitting room of Ozma of Oz. Once there, and without losing a moment, he walked to the west wall, took down a large gold framed picture, blew upon it with a small glass tube, till it was no larger than a cake of chocolate--and thrust it into an inner pocket. Then, holding his robe high above his skinny shins and with the jug clasped tightly in his arms, he galloped down the stairs and out an open window into the garden, reaching a large clump of snowball bushes without encountering anyone. Hiding himself well in the bushes, he tore off the monk's robe, turned it inside out, dragged a white wig from his sock and presently emerged as dignified and plausible an old grandmother as any one would wish to see. The other side of his monk's robe was green and made up in a style much affected by old ladies in the capital, so that now he attracted no attention whatever. The jug in a large string bag dangled carelessly from his wrist, and smiling and nodding amiably he hurried through the garden, passed rapidly down one street and another, through the high city gates, on and on, till he was far out in the country walking faster and faster and less like a monk or an old lady at every step. CHAPTER 14 The Robbery Is Discovered! "Prunes and peppermints!" ejaculated the Scarecrow, springing up from his bench as Jellia Jamb, with streaming eyes and cap ribbons, came flying across the garden. "Peanuts and pretzels!" Dorothy, about to hit the pole and win the game, dropped her mallet at Jellia's fire siren screeches, while Ozma and the others swung round in amazement as the little waiting maid, sobbing and panting, rushed into their midst. "Oh, that beggar! Oh, that pilgrim! That old Monk, or whatever he was!" wailed Jellia, wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. "He's gone and stolen the jug, I mean Rug, and Oz knows what will become of us!" "There, there, my girl. Stop crying! Begin at the beginning and tell us just what happened," begged the Scarecrow, patting Jellia clumsily on the shoulder. "But this is serious, very serious," muttered the Wizard, who had at once realized the importance of the little maid's news. "If Ruggedo is released from that jug and enchantment, he'll be up to his old tricks in no time and doing anything in his power to hurt and destroy us." "But who could have known we turned Ruggedo into a jug, or where the jug was kept? And why would anyone steal an old earthenware pitcher when there are so many other rare and beautiful objects in the palace?" Ozma, looking anxious and troubled, seated herself on the bench beside the Scarecrow.