A four-wheeled cabman was called--his cab was one of the old-fashioned kind, with straw in the bottom--and he was asked by Anthea to drive them very carefully to their address. This he did, and the price he asked for doing so was exactly the value of the gold coin grandpapa had given Cyril for Christmas. This cast a gloom--but Cyril would never have stooped to argue about a cab-fare, for fear the cabman should think he was not accustomed to take cabs whenever he wanted them. For a reason that was something like this he told the cabman to put the luggage on the steps, and waited till the wheels of the growler had grittily retired before he rang the bell. "You see," he said, with his hand on the handle, "we don't want cook and Eliza asking us before _him_ how it is we've come home alone--as if we were babies." [Illustration: "HE WAS ASKED BY ANTHEA TO DRIVE THEM VERY CAREFULLY."] Here he rang the bell; and the moment its answering clang was heard everyone felt that it would be some time before that bell was answered. The sound of a bell is quite different, somehow, when there is anyone inside the house who hears it. I can't tell you why that is--but so it is. "I expect they're changing their dresses," said Jane. "Too late," said Anthea; "it must be past five. I expect Eliza's gone to post a letter and cook's gone to see the time." Cyril rang again. And the bell did its best to inform the listening children that there was really no one human in the house. They rang again, and listened intently. The hearts of all sank low. It is a terrible thing to be locked out of your own house on a dark, muggy, January evening. "There is no gas on anywhere," said Jane, in a broken voice. "I expect they've left the gas on once too often, and the draught blew it out, and they're suffocated in their beds. Father always said they would some day," said Robert, cheerfully. "Let's go and fetch a policeman," said Anthea, trembling. "And be taken up for trying to be burglars--no, thank you," said Cyril. "I heard father read out of the paper about a young man who got into his own mother's house, and they got him made a burglar only the other day." "I only hope the gas hasn't hurt the Phoenix," said Anthea. "It _said_ it wanted to stay in the bathroom cupboard, and I thought it would be all right because the servants _never_ clean that out. But if it's gone and got out and been choked by gas--and, besides, directly we open the door we shall be choked too. I _knew_ we ought to have gone to Aunt Emma at Croydon. Oh, Squirrel, I wish we had. Let's go _now_." "Shut up," said her brother, briefly. "There's someone rattling the latch inside." Everyone listened with all its ears, and everyone stood back as far from the door as the steps would allow.