“Just me only, Peter?” He couldn't understand why she should always want him to do things for her only. She wasn't selfish like Riska. He was puzzled. “Why I'll make you laugh and Kay laugh and everybody, because you know, Glory, we all ought to be happy.” Her face fell. The eager gladness was dying out of it, so he added hurriedly, “And most especially I want to help Uncle Waffles.” Was he going to have told her? Probably he did not know himself. There was a sound of running feet in the hall; Grace burst in on them breathlessly. “Oh, mum, can I 'ave a word with you? There's a light in the winder of the---- Where's yer ma, Miss Glory? Quick, tell me.” “She's gone to lie down with Moggs. Her head---- But what's happened?” Grace was gone. As she climbed the house they heard her calling. Out in the hall they found the policeman standing, with his baton in his hand; he was trying to appear very brave, as though saying, “Fear nothing. I am the law. I will protect you.” Peter took one swift glance at Glory. Did she understand? He almost fancied---- “Keep them here as long as you can,” he whispered; “I'm going out.” The last sight he had was of Aunt Jehane coming down the stairs. She was in her night-gown with a counterpane flung round her. Moggs was in her arms, crying against her shoulder. Eustace was clinging stupidly to her nightgown. Aunt Jehane's 'mat' was off. Her forehead looked surprised and her scant hair straggled away from it. Grace was explaining vociferously. “I've called in the policeman, mum. Luckily 'e was passin'.” “But what's he wasting time for?” Aunt Jehane asked tartly. “If you didn't imagine the light, they're still there in the loft and he can catch them.” Mr. Somp spoke up for himself. “H'I was waitin' your h'orders.” Peter flew down the path. The window was in darkness. Directly he entered the stables he knew what had happened, for the air was heavy with the smell of tobacco. “Uncle! Uncle!” “Here, sonny.” “Quick. Come down. Grace saw you strike a match in the dark and a policeman's coming to catch you.” Peter had to go up after him, for Ocky's wits were clouded. He shook him, saying, “Make haste. Can't you understand? Surely you don't want to be caught.” The fear, in Peter's voice pierced through the fog of alcohol and reached Ocky's intellect. “But what's to be done?” “There's an empty tank in the yard--you know it? If you can get in there before they come, they mayn't find you.” Ocky woke to life. Stumbling and hurrying he dropped down through the trap-door. As they ran across the yard, they heard the grumbling of voices approaching. Ocky climbed on the tank, keeping low so as not to be seen from the garden, and vanished. “Whatever you do, don't make a sound,” Peter warned him. Uncle Waffles replied disgustedly, “It isn't empty. The water's up to me ankles.”