bolted and chained the door, locked it, and, turning, saw Dickie.
"What's this?" she said. "Oh, Edward, quick—here's one of them! . . . Why it's a child"
Some more people were coming down the stairs, with candles and excited voices. Their clothes were oddly bright. Dickie had never seen dressing-gowns before. They moved in a very odd way, and then began to go round and round like tops.
The next thing that Dickie remembers is being in a room that seemed full of people and lights and wonderful furniture, with some one holding a glass to his lips, a little glass, that smelt of public-houses, very nasty.
"No!" said Dickie, turning away his head.
"Better?" asked a lady; and Dickie was astonished to find that he was on her lap.
"Yes, thank you," he said, and tried to sit up, but lay back again because that was so much more pleasant. He had had no idea that any one's lap could be so comfortable.
"Now, young man," said a stern voice that was not a lady's, "just you tell us how you came here, and who put you up to it."
"I got in," said Dickie feebly, "through the butler's pantry window," and as he said it he wondered how he had known that it was the butler's pantry. It is certain that no one had told him.
"What for?" asked the voice, which Dickie now perceived came from a gentleman in rumpled hair and a very loose pink flannel
