And he rushed out; and the children heard his boots going weightily along the pavement, and the screams also going along rather ahead of the policeman, and both the murder-screams and the policeman's boots faded away in the remote distance. Then Robert smacked his knickerbockers loudly with his palm, and said:-- "Good old Phɶnix! I should know its golden voice anywhere." And then everyone understood how cleverly the Phɶnix had caught at what Robert had said about the real work of a policeman being to look after murderers and thieves, and not after cats, and all hearts were filled with admiring affection. [Illustration: "THE POLICEMAN STOPPED, WITH ONE REGULATION BOOT POISED IN THE AIR."] "But he'll come back," said Anthea, mournfully, "as soon as he finds the murderer is only a bright vision of a dream, and there isn't one at all really." "No, he won't," said the soft voice of the clever Phɶnix, as he flew in. "_He does not know where your house is._ I heard him own as much to a fellow-mercenary. Oh! what a night we are having! Lock the door, and let us rid ourselves of this intolerable smell of the perfume peculiar to the musk-rat and to the house of the trimmers of beards. If you'll excuse me I will go to bed. I am worn out." It was Cyril who wrote the paper that told the carpet to take away the rats and bring milk, because there seemed to be no doubt in any breast that, however Persian cats may be, they must like milk. "Let's hope it won't be musk-milk," said Anthea, in gloom, as she pinned the paper face-downwards on the carpet. "Is there such a thing as a musk-cow?" she added, anxiously, as the carpet shrivelled and vanished. "I do hope not. Perhaps, really, it _would_ have been wiser to let the carpet take the cats away. It's getting quite late, and we can't keep them all night." "Oh, can't we?" was the bitter rejoinder of Robert, who had been fastening the side door. "You might have consulted me," he went on. "I'm not such an idiot as some people." "Why, whatever----" [Illustration: "ROBERT AND CYRIL HELD THE COW BY THE HORNS."] "Don't you see? We've jolly well _got_ to keep the cats all night--oh, get down, you furry beasts!--because we've had three wishes out of the old carpet now, and we can't get any more till to-morrow." The liveliness of Persian mews alone prevented the occurrence of a dismal silence. Anthea spoke first. "Never mind," she said. "Do you know, I really do think they're quieting down a bit. Perhaps they heard us say milk." "They can't understand English," said Jane. "You forget they're Persian cats, Panther." "Well," said Anthea, rather sharply, for she was tired and anxious, "who told you milk wasn't Persian for milk? Lots of English words are just the same in French--at least, I know 'miaw' is, and croquet, and _fiancé_. Oh, pussies, do be quiet! Let's stroke them as hard as we can with both hands, and perhaps they'll stop."