There were two people in the room as Mr. Hedderwick opened the door, a man and a lady. The latter, he noted with amazement, was in evening dress, a light cloak being thrown over it; the former wore the ordinary morning dress of a man about town, neat, though a little shiny, and on his head was a top hat. At Robert's command he turned with a violent start: the lady started, too, but in a moment recovered her composure and laughed. "Good morning," she said cheerfully: "I can't say this is an unexpected pleasure, for that would be only a half-truth. And now, what are you going to do?" Robert, considerably taken aback at the character of his prisoners and his own reception, paused a moment before replying. He was breathing a little noisily from pure excitement, but still he was careful to keep the pistol at a threatening angle. "Well," he said slowly, "in the first place I warn you that I shall shoot if you move----" "Of course," she agreed brightly, "that would be the most sensible thing to do. But we have no intention of being so foolish. It seems that you hold the whip-hand, so--shall we sit down and discuss the situation?" "By all means," said Robert, gaping. "You will find that armchair the most comfortable." She seated herself, and her companion was about to follow suit. But he checked himself, picked up a gaily-colored rug from the sofa, and with a smile said, "There is no need for even a jailer to catch cold." He threw it lightly across to Robert, who caught it with a blush. He wished foolishly he had put on a collar. Then the man sat down and looked at the lady as if waiting for instructions. Robert followed his example, taking care to interpose the table between them in case of a surprise. "And now," said the lady again, "what are you going to do? Send for a policeman?" It was the obvious course, but Robert on a sudden felt that it would be impossible. When he had valiantly left his bed, seized his weapon and prepared to capture a burglar or two, he had in mind merely the vision of an ordinary hooligan. The reality upset him. He needed time to adjust his ideas. "I suppose I must," he said apologetically. "I am exceedingly sorry, but really, you know----" "Oh, we quite understand," returned Beatrice (for of course it was she and Lionel) with a frank camaraderie. "It must be a painful position for you as well as for us. But perhaps, before deciding, you would like to hear the reason of our visit?" His eyes brightened; he grasped an idea. "Excellent!" he said. "I have the satisfaction of having frustrated your design, and honestly I am not in love with the notion of giving you in charge. Besides ..." he hesitated as if ashamed, but decided on candor, "my life is a trifle dull, and if you can tell me a really interesting tale, well ..." "Sir, you are a sportsman," observed Lionel; and Beatrice added persuasively, "A perfect dear!" "Flattery is useless," he replied. "I don't want that. Tell me a good tale, and perhaps ..."