With a sudden spring he jumped to the electric switch and turned on the lights. The sudden glare made him blink—but he saw plainly enough. Not four feet away stood Rupert Bateman.
"My goodness, Pongo," cried Jimmy, "you did give me a start. Slinking about like that in the dark."
"I heard a noise," explained Mr. Bateman severely. "I thought burglars had got in and I came down to see."
Jimmy looked thoughtfully at Mr. Bateman's rubber-soled feet.
"You think of everything, Pongo," he said genially. "Even a lethal weapon."
His eye rested on the bulge in the other's pocket.
"It's as well to be armed. One never knows whom one may meet."
"I am glad you didn't shoot," said Jimmy. "I'm a bit tired of being shot at."
"I might easily have done so," said Mr. Bateman.
"It would be dead against the law if you did," said Jimmy. "You've got to make quite sure the beggar's house-breaking, you know, before you pot at him. You mustn't jump to conclusions. Otherwise you'd have to explain why you shot a guest on a perfectly innocent errand like mine."