He departed, and the others sat down to wait. A policeman was the first to arrive, and the canon interviewed him in the dining-room. The circus had been found, he learned, but Grif was not with it; and the policeman related the story of Pouncer’s rescue, which was all the information they had been able to extract from the circus folk. “We’re looking after them,” he added. The canon did not mention George, who at that moment sat quaking in the kitchen, expecting every moment to be delivered into the hands of his natural enemies. But George had really become a kind of drug on the market; he could not be given up, and as a guide he was no longer required; so when Palmer, in triumph, returned with the doctor, all the latter had to do was to attend a patient. It was daylight when they gathered in the dining-room to discuss the situation, and the hero of it felt that the adventure was fizzling out far too undramatically. It became still less dramatic when both he and Edward were summarily ordered to bed. Doctor O’Neill watched them go out, an expression of mingled amusement and interest on his face. “That’s an extraordinary youngster!” he said, after the door had closed. “I’d rather like to have a boy like that.” The doctor was a bachelor between thirty and thirty-five, and still young enough to appreciate Palmer’s escapade. The canon shook his head. “I don’t know that he did much good by shooting the unfortunate George. By the way, I wonder where the revolver came from! I’m afraid there are a number of things that will have to be inquired into to-morrow.” “I wonder where poor Grif is?” said Aunt Caroline. “It’s really dreadful――――this uncertainty.” “I somehow feel as if they should all be severely punished,” the canon went on. “And yet, on the face of it, there doesn’t seem to be anything to punish them for!” “It’s their doing things on their own account that makes all the trouble. None of this would have happened if Grif hadn’t rushed off by himself, and if Palmer had told us he expected a burglar.” The doctor shrugged his broad shoulders. “Would you have believed him if he had?” he asked sceptically. “Of course the burglar was a pure and unadulterated fluke,” declared the canon. “He hadn’t really any intention of breaking into the house.” “I’m not so sure of that.” “But it would have been madness. The first thing the police would have thought of would have been this circus.” Aunt Caroline sighed. “Well, if poor Grif is none the worse, I shan’t complain. But we really must talk to them seriously.” “You’re going to have them with you all the rest of the summer, aren’t you?” asked the doctor. “You must find it quite exciting!” The canon agreed. “We are certainly seeing life.” Doctor O’Neill took up his hat, and then suddenly laughed. “Well, as I began by saying, I’d quite like to have a boy like that. I wonder if it would bore him very much to come round some evening to see me.”