"Enter," said Mr. Marrapit.

She waddled her stout figure to him. Behind her Clara and Ada, those trim maids, took place.

Mr. Marrapit addressed her. "To-morrow, Mrs. Armitage, arouse your girls at six. Speed them at their toilet; set them to clean your flues." He glanced at a tablet taken from beneath his pillow. "At 4.6 this afternoon I smelt soot."

"The flues were cleaned this morning, sir."

"Untrue. Your girls were late. p.r.o.ne in suffering upon my couch, my ears tell me all that is accomplished in every part of the house. Ten minutes after your girls descended I heard the kitchen fire roar. I suspect paraffin."

Mrs. Armitage wriggled to displace the blame. "I rose them at six, sir. They sleep that heavy and they take that long to dressing, it's a wonder to me they ever do get down."

Mr. Marrapit addressed the sluggards. "Shun the enervating couch.

Spring to the call. Cleanliness satisfied, adorn not the figure; pursue the duties. Ponder this. Seek help to effect it. Contrive a special prayer. To your beds."

They left him; upon the mat encountered Frederick, and him, in abandon of relief, dug vitally with vulgar thumbs.

II.

Squirming, Frederick, the gardener's boy, advanced to the bedside.

Mr. Marrapit sternly regarded him: "Recite your misdeeds."

"I've done me jobs, sir."

"Prostrated, I cannot check your testimony. One awful eye above alone can tell. Upon your knees this night search stringently your heart.

Bend."

Frederick inclined his neck until his forehead was upon the coverlet.

Mr. Marrapit scanned the neck.

"Behind the ears are stale traces. Cleanse abundantly. To your bed."

Without the door Frederick encountered Mr. Fletcher. "You let me catch you reading abed to-night," Mr. Fletcher warned him.

"Cleanse yer blarsted ear-'oles," breathed Frederick, pushing past.

III.

Mr. Fletcher moved in to the presence.

"Is all securely barred, bolted and shuttered?" Mr. Marrapit asked.

"It's all right."

"I am apprehensive. This is the first night I have not accompanied you upon your round. Colossal responsibility lies upon you. Should thieves break through and steal, upon your head devolves the crime."

Wearily Mr. Fletcher repeated: "It's all right."

Mr. Marrapit frowned: "You do not inspire confidence. Sleep films your eye. I shudder for you. Women and children are in your care this night. The maids, Mrs. Armitage, Mrs. Major, my daughter, the young life of Frederick, are in your hands. What if rapine and murder, concealed in the garden, are loosed beneath my roof this night?"

Mr. Fletcher pa.s.sed a fist across his brow; spoke wearily: "It's all right, Mr. Marrapit. I can't say more; I can't do more. I tell you again it's all right."

"Substantiate. Adduce evidence."

Mr. Fletcher raised an appealing hand: "How can I prove it? My word's a good word, ain't it? I tell you the doors are locked. I can't bring 'em up to show you, can I? I'm a gardener, I am."

"By zeal give proof. Set your alarum-clock so that twice in the night you may be roused. Gird then yourself and patrol. But lightly slumber.

Should my bell sound in your room spring instantly to my bedside. To your couch."

Battling speech, Mr. Fletcher moved to the door. At the threshold protest overcame him. He gave it vent: "I should like to ast if I was engaged to work by night as well as day? Can't I even have me rest?

'Ow many nights am I to patrol the house? It's 'ard--d.a.m.n 'ard. I'm a gardener, I am; not a watchdog."

"Away, insolence."

Insolence, upon the stairs, morosely descending, drew aside to give room to Margaret and George.

Margaret parted her lips at him in her appealing smile. "Oh, Mr.

Fletcher," in her pretty way she said, "you locked me out. Indeed you did." She smiled again; tripped towards Mr. Marrapit's door.

Mr. Fletcher stayed George, following. "Mr. George, did you shut up secure behind Miss Margaret?"

George rea.s.sured him; questioned his earnestness.

Mr. Fletcher pointed through a window that gave upon the garden. "I've the 'orrors on me to-night," he said. "According to Master there's rapine lurking in them bushes. Mr. George, what'll I do if there's rapine beneath this roof to-night?"

"Catch it firmly by the back of the neck and hold its head in a bucket of water," George told him.

Mr. Fletcher pa.s.sed, pondering the suggestion. "Only something to do with rats after all," he cogitated with wan smile of relief.

IV.

Margaret, at her father's bedside, luxuriously mouthed the fine phrases of the Book of Job which nightly she read him. Her chapter finished, she inquired: "Shall I read on?"

"Does Job continue?"

"No, father. The next begins, 'Then answered Bildad, the Shuite.'"

George coughed upon the threshold.

"Terminate," said Mr. Marrapit. "Bildad is without."

"Oh, father, George is not!"