“We've got to catch him,” cried Sir Christopher. “Come along!”
They pushed at the door, which was unlocked.
“Yes. But consider the ethics of the case,” said Jimmy. “Isn't this burglary or something, Bubbles?”
“Settle that when he's caught,” said Sir Christopher. “We're responsible for the beast.”
A furious clanging of bells broke out of the empty house, followed by muffed gurglings and trumpetings.
“What the deuce is that?” I asked, half aloud.
“The plumbing, of course,” said Penfentenyou. “What a pity! I believe he'd have climbed if Lord Lundie hadn't put him off!”
“Wait a moment, Chris,” said Jimmy the interpreter; “Guiseppe says he may answer to the music of his infancy. Giuseppe, therefore, will go in with the organ. Orpheus with his lute, you know. Avante, Orpheus! There's no Neapolitan for bathroom, but I fancy your friend is there.”
“I'm not going into another man's house with a hurdy-gurdy,” said Lord Lundie, recoiling, as Giuseppe unshipped the working mechanism of the organ (it developed a hang-down leg) from its wheels, slipped a strap round his shoulders, and gave the handle a twist.
“Don't be a cad, Bubbles,” was Jimmy's answer. “You couldn't leave us now if you were on the Woolsack. Play, Orpheus! The Cadi accompanies.”