And as he spoke a lantern flashed its light through the window of the kitchen, a face peered in, and a voice said:—
"What's all this row about? You let me in."
It was the voice of the police!
Robert tip-toed to the window and spoke through the pane that was a little cracked.
"What do you mean?" he said. "There's no row. You listen; everything's as quiet as quiet."
And indeed it was.
The strange sweet scent grew stronger, and the Phœnix put out its beak.
The policeman hesitated.
"They're musk rats," said the Phœnix. "I suppose some cats eat them—but never Persian ones. What a mistake for a well-informed carpet to make! Oh, what a night we're having!"
"Do go away," said Robert, nervously, to the policeman. "We're just going to bed—that's our bedroom candle—there isn't any row. Everything's as quiet as a mouse."