“Hullo!” said Bill, sitting up in bed. “What’s the matter?” Virginia gave a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been shaking you and shaking you. Are you properly awake now?” “I think so,” said Bill doubtfully. “You great lump,” said Virginia. “The trouble I’ve had! My arms are aching.” “These insults are uncalled for,” said Bill, with dignity. “Let me say, Virginia, that I consider your conduct most unbecoming. Not at all that of a pure young widow.” “Don’t be an idiot, Bill. Things are happening.” “What kind of things?” “Queer things. In the Council Chamber. I thought I heard a door bang somewhere, and I came down to see. And then saw a light in the Council Chamber. I crept along the passage, and peeped through the crack of the door. I couldn’t see much, but what I could see was so extraordinary that I felt I must see more. And then, all of a sudden, I felt that I should like a nice, big, strong man with me. And you were the nicest and biggest and strongest man I could think of, so I came in and tried to wake you up quietly. But I’ve been ages doing it.” “I see,” said Bill. “And what do you want me to do now? Get up and tackle the burglars?” Virginia wrinkled her brows. “I’m not sure that they are burglars. Bill, it’s very queer—— But don’t let’s waste time talking. Get up.” Bill slipped obediently out of bed. “Wait while I don a pair of boots—the big ones with nails in them. However big and strong I am, I’m not going to tackle hardened criminals with bare feet.” “I like your pyjamas, Bill,” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness without vulgarity.” “While we’re on the subject,” remarked Bill, reaching for his second boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green. What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it?” “It’s a _négligé_” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure life, Bill.” “I haven’t,” said Bill indignantly. “You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you. I dare say that to-morrow morning—say about ten o’clock, a good safe hour for not unduly exciting the emotions—I might even kiss you.” “I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the moment,” suggested Bill. “We’ve other fish to fry,” said Virginia. “If you don’t want to put on a gas mask and a shirt of chain mail, shall we start?” “I’m ready,” said Bill. He wriggled into a lurid silk dressing-gown, and picked up a poker. “The orthodox weapon,” he observed. “Come on,” said Virginia, “and don’t make a noise.” They crept out of the room and along the corridor, and then down the wide double staircase. Virginia frowned as they reached the bottom of it. “Those boots of yours aren’t exactly domes of silence, are they, Bill?” “Nails will be nails,” said Bill. “I’m doing my best.” “You’ll have to take them off,” said Virginia firmly. Bill groaned.