"All the same," declared the cook, scouring a frying-pan in the doorway, "it's not like him to go to all that trouble just to sleep. I'll go up and see if I can raise him."
Even in the dining room they could hear Mr. Hicks banging on the door with the frying-pan, and calling. He returned in a few minutes.
"There's something queer about it. It's still as a graveyard. He ain't snoring."
"Could he have made way with himself?" Mr. Appel's tone was sepulchral.
"Oh-h-h!" Miss Eyester gasped faintly.
"Perhaps he has merely locked the door and he is outside," Mr. Stott suggested.
"I'll go down and see if I can notice his legs stickin' out of the crick anywhere," said Mr. Hicks, briskly.
"It is very curious—very strange indeed," they declared solemnly, though they all continued eating spare-ribs—a favourite dish with The Happy Family.
The cook, returning, said in a tone that had a note of disappointment. "He ain't drowned."
"Is his horse in the corral?" asked Wallie.