“Ah, then, we stop his little game!”

“With all the pleasure in the world.”

He took off his cloak. It was very thick and dripping with moisture. He nodded at me, smiling.

“Yes, yes, you get the idea? Could a troublesome guest cry out indignantly if this fine cloak kept his head warm, do you think?”

He spread out the cloak on one outstretched arm, and tiptoed to the door again. I followed at his heels.

“But is this necessary?” I expostulated. “Why not throw him out without any ado?”

137St. Hilary looked at me with contempt.

137

“Do you forget the fourteen pages? We must see them. The chances are they are in his pocket. We are to be burglars for the nonce, dear Hume, and this cloak is to go over his head so that he won’t be too noisy.”

I nodded. “And the program?”

“It is very simple. His back is toward the door. When the next quarter chimes, I push open the door softly. I give a twist to my good cloak, and, voila, we shall have caught our prey. Blow out the candles, then help me. We shall wrap the cloak comfortably about his head, so that he can not see or hear. Then I go through his pockets. If the stolen pages are there, very good. If not, his keys may be useful. Have you a rope? We must fasten his arms and legs.”

voila

“Yes, a trunk-strap.”

“Good. En garde, then. I am extremely thirsty. My poor lips ache for a smack of that good liqueur.”

En garde

The clock chimed the half-hour sweetly. St. Hilary, holding the dripping cloak before him like a shield, pushed open the door.

138

CHAPTER XIII

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