He recognised her now. It was the young party that had called on the previous evening, asking for Sam. And, as on that occasion, he seemed to see through the growing darkness the same sturdy male person hovering about in the shadows. “No, miss, he ain’t.” “Expecting him back soon?” “No, miss, I ain’t. He’s gone to the theatre, to a mat-i-nay.” “Ah,” said the lady, “is that so?” And she made a sudden, curious gesture with her parasol. “Sorry,” said Hash, melting a little, for her eyes were very bright. “Can’t be helped. You all alone here then?” “Yes.” “Tough luck.” “Oh, I don’t mind, miss,” said Hash, pleased by her sympathy. “Well, I won’t keep you. ’Devening.” “’Evening, miss.” Hash closed the door. Whistling a little, for his visitor had lightened somehow the depression which was gnawing at him, he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Something which appeared at first acquaintance to be the ceiling, the upper part of the house and a ton of bricks thrown in for good measure hit Hash on the head and he subsided gently on the floor. § 3 Soapy Molloy came to the front door and opened it. He was a little pale, and he breathed heavily. “All right?” said his wife eagerly. “All right.” “Tied him up?” “With a clothesline.” “How about if he hollers?” “I’ve put a duster in his mouth.” “At-a-boy!” said Mrs. Molloy. “Then let’s get action.” They climbed the stairs to where the cistern stood, and Mr. Molloy, removing his coat, rolled up his sleeves. Some minutes passed, and then Mr. Molloy, red in the face and wet in the arm, made a remark. “But it must be there!” cried his wife. “It isn’t.” “You haven’t looked.” “I’ve looked everywhere. There couldn’t be a toothpick in that thing without I’d have found it.” He expelled a long breath and his face grew bleak. “Know what I think?” “What?” “That little oil can, Chimp, has slipped one over on us--told us the wrong place.” The plausibility of this theory was so obvious that Mrs. Molloy made no attempt to refute it. She bit her lip in silence. “Then let’s you and me get busy and find the right place,” she said at length, with the splendid fortitude of a great woman. “We know the stuff’s in the house somewheres, and we got the place to ourselves.” “It’s taking a chance,” said Mr. Molloy doubtfully. “Suppose somebody was to come and find us here.” “Well, then, all you would do would be to just simply haul off and bust them one, same as you did the hired man.” “’M, yes,” said Mr. Molloy. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE SOAPY MOLLOY’S BUSY AFTERNOON § 1