It was plain enough to Edmund how it had happened. The intelligent Marcus crawling into the hall had spied the pocket of Edmund's coat and coolly entered. Once there, he had gone to sleep and the unsuspecting Celeste had rolled the coat up in a strap not to undo it until now. "So here you are, you beauty," said Edmund, "and I'll take good care of you while you are mine; I only wish you could be mine forever!" There was a candy-box on the table with a glass cover. Of this he hastily made a prison, then sallied out to find his captive some mice. They were not the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring considerable seeking and talking. He did not venture to tell why he wanted mice; and he overheard the housekeeper grumble: "Most extraordinary boys, those Americans! Do you expect he wants to _cat_ them?" By this time Nora was ready; he had hardly replaced the snake in the box before he heard her knock at the door. It was a charming day and drive, yet I fear he saw little of the scenery. Alas, that it must be confessed, a wicked thought had crept into his brain. He coveted Lady Margaret's snake. He coveted it so ardently that he began to imagine how easy it would be for him to keep it. There was a man in London who sold snakes. Edmund had been up buying some snakes from him which the man was to keep until he should want them. What more easy than to send Marcus Aurelius to this saurian boarding-house? Ah, what an ugly temptation for Edmund who had been called a good boy from his cradle. He would have no more of it. But it came back again and finally, when he reached the inn, he had almost decided to keep the snake. "Anyhow I'll take it to Tomlin's" (Tomlin was the snake man), he said to himself; "there's no hurry." Yet in his secret soul he knew that once taken to Tomlin's, Marcus Aurelius would never return to Lady Margaret. Thus thinking, he went toward the box. The snake was gone! Yes, gone, vanished absolutely, leaving no trace either in the box or in the room. Vainly and long Edmund searched; either the cover had not fitted exactly, or Marcus, the intelligent Marcus, had managed to remove it; in either case he had evidently set off anew on his travels. Edmund began to feel he had been a wicked boy. He stood in the centre of the room, trying to collect his wits. Oscar's room adjoined his; he could hear Oscar moving about, whistling out of tune. Should he go in and search there? Standing irresolute, he heard a loud cry from his cousin. "Sloped! gone!" Then followed a muffled sound which Edmund rightly interpreted to be Oscar poking under the bed with an umbrella; and, then, came a thundering rap on the door. "Say, Ned," called Oscar, entering immediately, "I'm in an awful scrape! Your snake's gone!" "My snake," repeated Edmund, feebly. "Yes; the one you bought to-day. I saw it in the glass box on your table."