But here Constable Nightingale was compelled to pause, and to hold on tight to his comrade. The storm quite suddenly reached such a pitch of fury that the men could scarcely keep their feet, and it would have been impossible to hear a word that was spoken. It was not a fitful display of temper; so fierce grew the wind that it blew the street door open with a crash, and as the policemen were leaning against it, the consequence was that they were precipitated into the passage, and fell flat upon their backs. The reason of the door being blown open so readily was probably, as Constable Nightingale afterward remarked, because the man who had recently left the house so hastily had not pulled it tight behind him, but the tempest was raging so furiously that it might well have made light of such an obstacle as an old street door. It was with difficulty the policemen recovered their feet, and the strength of the wind as it rushed through the passage was so great that the idea that they would be safer inside the house than out occurred to both of them at once. To expose themselves to the fury of the elements in the open would undoubtedly have been attended with danger. Instinctively they advanced to the door, and after a struggle succeeded in shutting it. That being accomplished, they stood in the dark passage, mentally debating what they should do next. "There's something moving," whispered Constable Wigg, trembling. He was not remarkable for courage, and had a horror of darkness. Constable Nightingale was made of sterner stuff. He promptly pulled out his dark lantern, and cast its circle of light upon the floor; and there, creeping timidly along close to the wall, they saw the miserable half-starved cat which had shaken Constable Wigg's nerves earlier in the night. It had taken advantage of the open street door to obtain the shelter for which it had long been seeking. "It ain't the first time," said Constable Wigg, in a vicious tone, "that this little beast has given me a turn. Just before you come up it run across me and almost sent my heart into my mouth." But for a mournful, fear-stricken look in its yellow eyes, the light of the dark lantern seemed to deprive the wretched cat of the power of motion. It remained perfectly still, cowering to the ground. Even when Constable Wigg gave it a spiteful kick it did not move of its own volition, and it was only when the attention of the policeman was no longer directed toward it that it slunk slowly and stealthily away. Meanwhile the tempest raged more furiously than ever outside. The shrieking wind tore through the streets, carrying devastation in its train, and the air was thick with whirling, blinding snow. "Did you ever hear anything like it?" said Constable Nightingale. "Never," said Constable Wigg. "It would be madness to go out," said Constable Nightingale. "We should be dashed to pieces. Besides, what good could we do? Besides, who would be likely to want us? Besides, who's to know?"