"Dunno," replied the gardener apathetically.

   "We seem to be goin' back nicely all the time."

   Joe wagged his head. "You've 'it it," he said. And, jerking his head back towards the room behind him, "Guv'nor's got it now."

   "What?"

   "The new disease."

   "What new disease?"

   "Wy, the Run-abaht-an-tell-'em-'ow-to-do-it."

   "Ah!"

   "'E's copped it fair. In bed."

   "You don't say!"

   "Not 'alf!" Joe sank his voice still lower. "Wot'll you bet me I don't ketch it soon?"

   The gardener uttered a low gurgle.

   "The cats 'ave been in that laylock," he replied, twisting off a broken branch. "I'll knock off now for a bit o' lunch."

   But at that moment the sound of a voice speaking as it might be from a cavern, caused him and Joe Petty to stare at each other as if petrified.

   "Wot is it?" whispered Joe at last.

   The gardener jerked his head towards a window on the ground floor.

   "Someone in pain," he said.

   "Sounds like the Guv'nor's voice."

   "Ah!" said the gardener.

   "Alf a mo'!" And, drawing in his head, Joe peered through the curtains. The bed was empty and the door open.

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