"Finch!" said Mrs. Waddington.
"George!" cried Lord Hunstanton.
Mrs. Waddington flung open the door. All was darkness within. She switched on the light. The room was empty.
"Well!" said Mrs. Waddington.
"Perhaps they're under the bed."
"Go and look."
"But suppose he bites at me."
Nothing is truer than that the secret of all successful operations consists in the overlooking of no eventuality, but it was plain that Mrs. Waddington considered that in this instance her ally was carrying caution too far. She turned on him with a snort of annoyance: and, having turned, remained staring frozenly at something that had suddenly manifested itself in his lordship's rear.
This something was a long, stringy policeman: and, though Mrs. Waddington had met this policeman only once in her life, the circumstances of that meeting had been such that the memory of him had lingered. She recognised him immediately: and, strong woman though she was, wilted like a snail that has just received a handful of salt between the eyes.
"What's up?" inquired Lord Hunstanton. He, too, turned. "Oh, what ho! the constabulary!"