"Our engagement," she said firmly. "The combination of temper and dressing gown." "But with all due modesty you must have expected to see him in a dressing gown after you were married," I protested as delicately as I could. "And he not only looks like the devil in it but stands there and tells me to sit quiet until he comes back, just as though I wasn't a better shot than he is! Ugh--that dressing gown!" "Well, what did you expect?" I asked helplessly. "Sandro is dressed," she retorted with apparent irrelevance. "Don't call him that!" I exclaimed, fairly exasperated with the girl. "You have absolutely no proof that it's Sandro." "I'll get proof," she said. "You wait--I'll get proof." "Nonsense!" I said. "Hush up! Here he comes." But it wasn't the creature after all, but the cook--a distressed and excitable Frenchman in a pointed nightcap and an unconquerable belief that the house was on fire; and for several minutes we were fully occupied with dissuading him of the idea. And after him came the rest of the crew--a straggling, shivering, sleepy, indignant lot, in varying degrees of dishevelment, appearing in twos and threes and huddling in a little group at the foot of the stairway, ready to dart back through the swinging door to their own quarters at an instant's notice, and no doubt planning to give notice as soon as anybody appeared to whom it could be given. One Irish girl, a kitchen maid, I think she was, had somehow got the idea that a murder had been committed, and called upon her patron saint, whose name seemed to be Ochsaveus, at irregular but emphatic intervals. I think I cannot convey a sense of the complete demoralization of these underlings more dearly than by stating that the chambermaid whose duty it was to take care of my room was wearing one of my own boudoir caps without the least particle of self-consciousness. The only one who had shown any poise at all was Wilkes, who had not reappeared. I was beginning to wish he would come back and set a good example, when at length Sebastian Markheim and dear Mr. Pegg returned unharmed, and announced that they had discovered nothing out of the way. "And not a trace of the horse thieves, either!" said Mr. Pegg. "It's clouded over outside--rain before long, and no use going off without a trail of any kind before morning. Better wait for the sheriff." "I'd say so, pa," said Peaches. "I wish you'd speak to the help, Mark! They act like a bunch of scared steers." "Sit down!" commanded Mr. Markheim to his household generally, his hair wilder than ever, his eyes fairly popping out of his head with anger. "Nobody is to leave the hall until I give permission. Where the hell is that food I ordered?" Somebody rang a bell for him, and after a very short wait Wilkes entered, accompanied by one of the footmen, who bore a tray containing some most welcome refreshment. Peaches and I declined the drink, but Sebastian took three in quick succession.