"That Colosseum has been too much for her: there's nothing so fatiguing as sightseeing. I did wrong in letting Janet go, as she is still weak from her illness. Perhaps she has taken cold." Ringing the bell, Miss Deveen told George to make some hot wine and water. When it was brought in, she made Janet drink it, and sent her upstairs to bed, marshalled by Cattledon. The next morning, Wednesday, I was dressing in the sunshine that streamed in at the bedroom windows, when a loud hulla-balloo was set up below, enough to startle the king and all his men. "Thieves! robbers! murder!" Dashing to the door, I looked over the balustrades. The shrieks and calls came from Lettice Lane, who was stumbling up the stairs from the hall. Cattledon opened her door in her night-cap, saw me, and shut it again with a bang. "Murder! robbers! thieves!" shrieked Lettice. "But what is it, Lettice?" I cried, leaping down. "Oh, Mr. Johnny, the house is robbed!--and we might just as well all have been murdered in our beds!" Every one was appearing on the scene. Miss Deveen came fully dressed--she was often up before other people; Cattledon arrived in a white petticoat and shawl. The servants were running up from the kitchen. Thieves had broken in during the night. The (so-called) breakfast-room at the back presented a scene of indescribable confusion. Everything in it was turned topsy-turvy, the secretary had been ransacked; the glass-doors stood open to the garden. It seemed that Lettice, in pursuance of her morning's duties, had gone to the room, and found it in this state. Lettice was of the excitable order, and went into shrieks. She stood now, sobbing and shaking, as she gave her explanation. "When I opened the door and saw the room in this pickle, the window standing open, my very blood seemed to curdle within me. For all I knew the thieves might have done murder. Just look at the place, ma'am!--look at your secretary!" It's what we were all looking at. The sight was as good as moving house. Chairs and footstools lay upside down, their chintz covers untied and flung off; the hearthrug was under the table; books were open, periodicals scattered about; two pictures had been taken from the wall and lay face downwards; every ornament was moved from the mantelpiece. The secretary stood open; all its papers had been taken out, opened, and lay in a heap on the floor; and Janet Carey's well-stocked work-box was turned bottom upwards, its contents having rolled anywhere. "This must be your work, George," said Miss Cattledon, turning on the servant-man with a grim frown. "Mine, ma'am!" he answered, amazed at the charge. "Yes, yours," repeated Cattledon. "You could not have fastened the shutters last night; and that is how the thieves have got in." "But I did, ma'am. I fastened them just as usual."