"The--the--the meaning of this? Ah! It's you, Superintendent. What's happened? I say--what has--happened?" Bill Eversleigh said: "My God! Old Jimmy!" and stared at the limp figure on the ground. Lady Coote, clad in a resplendent purple dressing-gown, cried out: "The poor boy!" and swept past Superintendent Battle to bend over the prostrate Jimmy in a motherly fashion. Bundle said: "Loraine!" Herr Eberhard said: "Gott im Himmel!" and other words of that nature. Sir Stanley Digby said: "My God, what's all this?" A housemaid said: "Look at the blood," and screamed with pleasurable excitement. A footman said: "Lor!" The butler said, with a good deal more bravery in his manner than had been noticeable a few minutes earlier: "Now then, this won't do!" and waved away underservants. The efficient Mr. Rupert Bateman said to George: "Shall we get rid of some of these people, sir?" Then they all took fresh breath. "Incredible!" said George Lomax. "Battle, what has _happened_?" Battle gave him a look, and George's discreet habits assumed their usual sway. "Now then," he said, moving to the door, "everyone go back to bed, please. There's been a--er--" "A little accident," said Superintendent Battle easily. "A--er--an accident. I shall be much obliged if everyone will go back to bed." Everyone was clearly reluctant to do so. "Lady Coote--please--" "The poor boy," said Lady Coote in a motherly fashion. She rose from a kneeling position with great reluctance. And as she did so, Jimmy stirred and sat up. "Hallo!" he said thickly. "What's the matter?" He looked round him vacantly for a minute or two and then intelligence returned to his eye. "Have you got him?" he demanded eagerly. "Got who?" "The man. Climbed down the ivy. I was by the window there. Grabbed him and we had no end of a set-to--" "One of those nasty, murderous cat burglars," said Lady Coote. "Poor boy." Jimmy was looking round him. "I say--I'm afraid we--er--have made rather a mess of things. Fellow was as strong as an ox and we went fairly waltzing around." The condition of the room was clear proof of this statement. Everything light and breakable within a range of twelve feet that could be broken _had_ been broken. "And what happened then?" But Jimmy was looking round for something. "Where's Leopold? The pride of the blue-nosed automatics." Battle indicated the pistol on the table. "Is this yours, Mr. Thesiger?" "That's right. That's little Leopold. How many shots have been fired?" "One shot." Jimmy looked chagrined. "I'm disappointed in Leopold," he murmured. "I can't have pressed the button properly, or he'd have gone on shooting." "Who shot first?" "I did, I'm afraid," said Jimmy. "You see, the man twisted himself out of my grasp suddenly. I saw him making for the window and I closed my finger down on Leopold and let him have it. He turned in the window and fired at me and--well, I suppose after that I took the count."