The big grandfather-clock away in a corner hissed and wheezed for some moments, then slowly struck seven. I waited for the dressing gong to sound. Usually James, or the footman, Henry, appeared as soon as the clock had finished striking, and made an intolerable noise upon the gong. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen. Evidently the gong had been forgotten, for Sir Charles dined punctually at the unfashionable hour of half-past seven. I rose and went upstairs to dress. At the half-hour I came down and went towards the small drawing-room where they always assemble before dinner. To my surprise the room was in darkness. "Something seems to be amiss to-night," I remember saying mentally as I switched on the light. The domestic service at Houghton was habitually like clockwork in its regularity. A quarter to eight struck. Eight o'clock! I began to wonder if dinner had been put off. A quarter-past eight chimed out. I went over to the fireplace and pressed the electric bell. Nobody came. I pressed it again. Finally I kept my finger pressed upon it. This was ridiculous. Thoroughly annoyed, I went into the dining-room. It was in darkness. Then I made my way out to the servants' quarters. James was sitting in the pantry, in his shirt sleeves, smoking a cigar. A brandy bottle stood upon the dresser, and a syphon, also a half-empty tumbler. "Is anything the matter, James?" I asked, with difficulty concealing the irritation I felt. "Not as I know of," he answered in rather a rude tone. I saw at once that he had been drinking. "At what time is dinner?" "Dinner?" He laughed outright. "There ain't no dinner. Why ain't you gone too?" "Gone? Where?" "With Sir Charles and her ladyship and Miss Vera and Judith." "I don't understand you. What do you mean?" "They went an hour ago, or more." "Went where?" "Oh, ask me another. I don't know." James in his cups was a very different person from sober, respectful, deferential James. And then it came back to me that, about an hour before, I had heard a car going down the avenue, and wondered whose it was. The sound of loud, coarse laughter reached me from the kitchen. "Well, all I says is it's a pretty state of things," a woman's high, harsh voice exclaimed. I think it was the cook's. "Cleared and gone with bags and baggage as if the devil hisself was after 'em." "P'r'aps 'e is," a man's voice, that I recognised as Henry's, announced, and again came peals of laughter. This was a pleasant situation, certainly. My hosts vanished. The butler drunk. The servants apparently in rebellion! Restlessly I paced the hall. My thoughts always work quickly, and my mind was soon made up.