And slipping thro' the window frame with feline caution dumb,
I slid behind a folding screen, and with a craning neck,
I listened for the snoring of the Colonel Van der Teck,
But not a soul had come that night into the room to rest,
There was no cousin German, and the bed was yet unpressed;
A knavish and mendacious trick it was of Bouncer's Ghost,
To crack his butler's neck again, but with some beans and toast,
I picketed behind the door, on eager ear to catch,
The slightest human murmur, thro' the keyhole of the latch,
At last it came! the midnight yet, was booming from a clock,