Peter had hoped to get out of the stable before the search began; it would look suspicious if they should find him. It was too late for that. The voices were near enough for him to hear what was being said. “Nothin' 'ere, me gal. You must 'ave h'imagined it.” “I didn't imagine it, neither. And don't call me 'me gal' as though h'I was nothin' to yer.” “I calls you 'me gal' in me h'official capacity.” “I don't care abart yer capacity, h'official or defficial, I won't 'ave it.” “My, but yer crusty, Grice!” “H'I _am_ crusty and h'I tell yer for wot. Yer doubt my word--throw h'aspersions on it. I did see a light, I tell yer.” “Well, it ain't there now. The chap's gone.” “Ow d'you know 'e's gone without lookin'?” “By a kind o' h'inkstink one dewelopes by bein' in the police force.” “D'you know wot I'm thinkin'?--Yer funky.” “Funky, h'am I? H'awright--h'it's h'all over between us. Never tell me h'again that you loves me.” They had been talking in loud voices from the start--quite loud enough to warn any burglar. Now that they had quarreled their voices cut the still night air in anger. Not a word was lost. Suddenly they paused. “Wot's that?” Grace asked the question in a sharp whisper. “Footsteps or I'm no cop.” Peter heard the click of Mr. Somp's lantern; it must have struck against his buttons as he bent to examine. “Footsteps. Someone's been a-climbin' this 'ere wall.” “Well, ain't yer goin' ter do nothin'?” “You stand there, Grice, while I go for'ard. The chap may fire h'on us. Good-bye, Grice. H'if anythin' should 'appen, remember I died a-doin' o' me dooty.” “Yer shan't. I'll come with yer. If 'e shoots we'll die together.” “Grice, h'I commands yer in the nime o' the law ter stay where yer h'are.” But when the door into the yard opened cautiously, Grace was clinging to her lover's arm. They both looked frightened and ready to withdraw. Slowly, slowly the bull's-eye swept the surface of the snow. “More footsteps!” The ray of light followed along the tracks till it fell on Peter. “Well, I'll be blessed. Of h'all the---- I'll be blowed if 'e aren't!” Peter laughed. “It looked so lovely I couldn't stop indoors.” “Yer've given us a nice scare, young master.” “I didn't mean to. And when I heard that Grace thought it was a burglar, I thought it would be such a lark to let you find me--just Peter.” “That boy's dotty,” said Grace's policeman; “a little bit h'orf.” “Yer come ter bed h'at once,” said Grace severely. “I'll tell yer pa. See if I don't.” She caught him roughly by the arm. Then Peter did something mean--he hated himself while he did it. “If you do, I'll tell that you had Mr. Somp in the kitchen. Father'll say you're not to be trusted.” “Ah!” said Grace's policeman. “There's somethin' in that.” “Ain't he artful?” said Grace. “Well,” asked Peter, “will you keep quiet if I do? Is it a bargain?” “We didn't find nothink,” said Grace's policeman. “We was mistooken.”