"Parker," Grantly called softly, "Parker, old chap, rouse her up and ask her to let me in." An old wistaria grew under the window with thick knotted stems. Grantly climbed up this, and although it was very dark he was aware of something dimly white at the window. Parker, much longer in the leg than any well-bred fox-terrier has a right to be, was standing on his hind legs thrusting his head out in silent welcome. "Go and rouse her up, old chap," Grantly whispered. "I want her to open the window wide enough for me to get through." All the windows at the Manor House, open or shut, had patent catches that it was impossible to undo from the outside. He heard Parker jump on Mary's bed and probably lick her face, then a sleepy "What is it, old dog, what's the matter?" and a soft movement as Mary raised herself on her elbow and switched on the light. "Mary," in a penetrating whisper, "let me in, I've lost that confounded key." In a moment Mary was over at the window, undid the catches, and Grantly scrambled through. "Grantly!" Mary exclaimed. "What on earth is the matter? You look awful." Grantly caught sight of himself in her long glass and agreed with her. He was covered with mud from head to foot, his overcoat was torn, his white tie was gone, his beautiful smooth hair, with the neat ripple at the temples, stood on end in ragged locks; in fact he was as unlike the "Knut" of ordinary life as he could well be. "Get into bed, Mary," he said, "you'll catch cold . . ." Mary, looking very tall in her straight white nightgown, turned slowly and got into bed. "Now tell me," she said. Grantly went and sat at the end of her bed and Parker joined him, cuddling up against him and trying to lick his face. It mattered nothing to Parker that he was ragged and dirty and disreputable; nothing that he might have committed any crime in the rogues' calendar. He was one of the family, he was home, he had evidently been in trouble, he needed comfort, therefore Parker made much of him. Grantly felt this and was vaguely cheered. "Now," said Mary again, and switched off the light; "you can have the eiderdown if you're cold." "Well, if you must know," said Grantly, "we went to the Radical meeting and got chucked out." "Who went? I thought you were dining with the Rabbiches." "Not _the_ Rabbiches, _a_ Rabbich, and an insufferable bounder at that; but he gave us a jolly good dinner, champagne flowed." "And you got drunk? Oh, Grantly!" "Well, no; I shouldn't describe it thus crudely--like the Irishman, I prefer to say 'having drink taken.'" "Well, 'having drink taken'--then?" "After we were chucked out for interrupting (it _was_ a rag) we went back to the Moonstone." "To the Moonstone," Mary repeated; "why there?"