Up to this point, my match, long since extinguished, had been the only illumination the affair had received; but now somebody, who proved to be White, the butler, came from the direction of the stable-yard with a carriage-lamp. Every one seemed calmer and happier for it. The boys stopped squealing, Mrs Attwell and Glossop subsided, and Mr Abney said 'Ah!' in a self-satisfied voice, as if he had directed this move and was congratulating himself on the success with which it had been carried out. The whole strength of the company gathered round the light. 'Thank you, White,' said Mr Abney. 'Excellent. I fear the scoundrel has escaped.' 'I suspect so, sir.' 'This is a very remarkable occurrence, White.' 'Yes, sir.' 'The man was actually in Master Ford's bedroom.' 'Indeed, sir?' A shrill voice spoke. I recognized it as that of Augustus Beckford, always to be counted upon to be in the centre of things gathering information. 'Sir, please, sir, what was up? Who was it, sir? Sir, was it a burglar, sir? Have you ever met a burglar, sir? My father took me to see Raffles in the holidays, sir. Do you think this chap was like Raffles, sir? Sir--' 'It was undoubtedly--' Mr Abney was beginning, when the identity of the questioner dawned upon him, and for the first time he realized that the drive was full of boys actively engaged in catching their deaths of cold. His all-friends-here-let-us- discuss-this-interesting-episode-fully manner changed. He became the outraged schoolmaster. Never before had I heard him speak so sharply to boys, many of whom, though breaking rules, were still titled. 'What are you boys doing out of bed? Go back to bed instantly. I shall punish you most severely. I--' 'Shall I telephone for the police?' asked Glossop. Disregarded. 'I will not have this conduct. You will catch cold. This is disgraceful. Ten bad marks! I shall punish you most severely if you do not instantly--' A calm voice interrupted him. 'Say!' The Little Nugget strolled easily into the circle of light. He was wearing a dressing-gown, and in his hand was a smouldering cigarette, from which he proceeded, before continuing his remarks, to blow a cloud of smoke. 'Say, I guess you're wrong. That wasn't any ordinary porch-climber.' The spectacle of his _bete noire_ wreathed in smoke, coming on top of the emotions of the night, was almost too much for Mr Abney. He gesticulated for a moment in impassioned silence, his arms throwing grotesque shadows on the gravel. 'How _dare_ you smoke, boy! How _dare_ you smoke that cigarette!' 'It's the only one I've got,' responded the Little Nugget amiably. 'I have spoken to you--I have warned you--Ten bad marks!--I will not have--Fifteen bad marks!' The Little Nugget ignored the painful scene. He was smiling quietly.