How long he stood there, frozen, he did not know: nor can one say how long he would have stood there had nothing further come to invite his notice elsewhere. But, suddenly, drowning even the impromptu concert, there came from somewhere upstairs the roar of a gun, and, when he heard that, Sam's rigid limbs relaxed and a violent activity descended upon him. He bounded out into the hall, looking to right and to left for a hiding-place. One of the suits of armour which had been familiar to him in his boyhood loomed up in front of him, and with the sight came the recollection of how, when a mere child on his first visit to Windles, playing hide and seek with his cousin Eustace, he had concealed himself inside this very suit and had not only baffled Eustace through a long summer evening but had wound up by almost scaring him into a decline by booing at him through the vizor of the helmet. Happy days, happy days! He leaped at the suit of armour. The helmet was a tight fit, but he managed to get his head into it at last, and the body of the thing was quite roomy. "Thank heaven!" said Sam. He was not comfortable, but comfort just then was not his primary need. Smith, the bulldog, well satisfied with the way things had happened, sat down, wheezing slightly, to await developments. 4 He had not long to wait. In a few minutes the hall had filled up nicely. There was Mr. Mortimer in his shirt-sleeves, Mr. Bennett in his pyjamas and a dressing-gown, Mrs. Hignett in a travelling costume, Jane Hubbard with her elephant-gun, and Billie in a dinner dress. Smith welcomed them all impartially. Somebody lit a lamp, and Mrs. Hignett stared speechlessly at the mob. "Mr. Bennett! Mr. Mortimer!" "Mrs. Hignett! What are you doing here?" Mrs. Hignett drew herself up stiffly. "What an odd question, Mr. Mortimer! I am in my own house!" "But you rented it to me for the summer. At least, your son did." "Eustace let you Windles for the summer!" said Mrs. Hignett, incredulously. Jane Hubbard returned from the drawing-room, where she had been switching off the orchestrion. "Let us talk all that over cosily to-morrow," she said. "The point now is that there are burglars in the house." "Burglars!" cried Mr. Bennett aghast. "I thought it was you playing that infernal instrument, Mortimer." "What on earth should I play it for at this time of night?" said Mr. Mortimer irritably. It appeared only too evident that the two old friends were again on the verge of one of their distressing fallings-out: but Jane Hubbard intervened once more. This practical-minded girl disliked the introducing of side-issues into the conversation. She was there to talk about burglars, and she intended to do so. "For goodness sake stop it!" she said, almost petulantly for one usually so superior to emotion. "There'll be lots of time for quarrelling to-morrow. Just now we've got to catch these...." "I'm not quarrelling," said Mr. Bennett. "Yes, you are," said Mr. Mortimer. "I'm not!"