The clocks were wrapped up and paid for. Mr. Murgatroyd watched the cars drive away with a puzzled air. Very spirited the young people of the upper classes nowadays, very spirited indeed, but not at all easy to understand. He turned with relief to attend to the vicar's wife, who wanted a new kind of dripless teapot. CHAPTER II CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS "Now where shall we put them?" Dinner was over. Lady Coote had been once more detailed for duty. Sir Oswald had unexpectedly come to the rescue by suggesting bridge--not that suggesting is the right word. Sir Oswald, as became one of "Our Captains of Industry" (No. 7 of Series I), merely expressed a preference and those around him hastened to accommodate themselves to the great man's wishes. Rupert Bateman and Sir Oswald were partners against Lady Coote and Gerald Wade, which was a very happy arrangement. Sir Oswald played bridge, like he did everything else, extremely well, and liked a partner to correspond. Bateman was as efficient a bridge player as he was a secretary. Both of them confined themselves strictly to the matter in hand, merely uttering in curt short barks, "Two no trumps," "Double," "Three spades." Lady Coote and Gerald Wade were amiable and discursive and the young man never failed to say at the conclusion of each hand, "I say, partner, you played that simply splendidly," in tones of simple admiration which Lady Coote found both novel and extremely soothing. They also held very good cards. The others were supposed to be dancing to the wireless in the big ballroom. In reality they were grouped around the door of Gerald Wade's bedroom, and the air was full of subdued giggles and the loud ticking of clocks. "Under the bed in a row," suggested Jimmy in answer to Bill's question. "And what shall we set them at? What time, I mean? All together so that there's one glorious what-not, or at intervals?" The point was hotly disputed. One party argued that for a champion sleeper like Gerry Wade the combined ringing of eight alarum clocks was necessary. The other party argued in favour of steady and sustained effort. In the end the latter won the day. The clocks were set to go off one after the other, starting at 6:30 A.M. "And I hope," said Bill virtuously, "that this will be a lesson to him." "Hear, hear," said Socks. The business of hiding the clocks was just being begun when there was a sudden alarm. "Hist," cried Jimmy. "Somebody's coming up the stairs." There was a panic. "It's all right," said Jimmy. "It's only Pongo." Taking advantage of being dummy, Mr. Bateman was going to his room for a handkerchief. He paused on his way and took in the situation at a glance. He then made a comment, a simple and practical one. "He will hear them ticking when he goes to bed." The conspirators looked at each other. "What did I tell you?" said Jimmy in a reverent voice. "Pongo always _did_ have brains!"