"Ukridge," I shouted.

No answer.

I flung open the dining-room door. Nobody.

I went into the drawing-room. It was empty.

I searched through the garden, and looked into his bedroom. He was not in either.

"He must have gone for a stroll," I said.

I rang the bell.

The hired retainer appeared, calm and imperturbable as ever.

"Sir?"

"Oh, where is Mr. Ukridge, Beale?"