"Hullo!" There was surprise and alarm in Billy's tone. "What—? Oh, I remember—I've been dreaming. I thought you were—"
He stopped and rubbed his eyes. "What's the matter, anyway?"
"Come out here, old chap."
When they got out in the corridor, Jack Symonds explained. "Fane here was going down for a rub of ointment for his eye, and when he got in the study there was a burglar. Here, where are you going?"
Billy Faraday did not answer. He had gasped with alarm at Jack's words, and set off at a rapid pace down the corridor. The others followed him at a run, and when they entered the study found him on his knees in front of his cupboard examining a small black cash-box, which he clicked open, peered inside, and then, with a sigh of relief, closed it again.
"Nothing gone?" demanded Jack. "Not even the Black Star?"
"Black star!" Billy whispered, looking at Jack as if he had seen a ghost. "What—what do you know about—"
"It's all right, Billy—only a joke of mine."
"But—a joke?"
"Yes. When we went to wake you up just now you were having a nightmare, or something, and you were jabbering about a black star. Something about taking care of it."