"Look here," said Gerald at parting. "I know what you're going to do. You're going to try to undo that door."
"Discerning!" said the stranger.
"Well—don't. Or, anyway, wait till daylight and let us be there. We can get there by ten."
"All right—I'll meet you there by ten," answered the stranger. "By George! you're the rummest kids I ever met."
"We are rum," Gerald owned, "but so would you be if Good-night."
*****
As the four children went over the smooth lawn towards Flora's Temple they talked, as they had talked all the morning, about the adventures of last night and of Mabel's bravery. It was not ten, but half-past twelve; for Eliza, backed by Mademoiselle, had insisted on their "clearing up," and clearing up very thoroughly, the "litter" of last night.
"You're a Victoria Cross heroine, dear," said Cathy warmly. "You ought to have a statue put up to you."
"It would come alive if you put it here," said Gerald grimly.
"I shouldn't have been afraid," said Jimmy.
"By daylight," Gerald assured him, "everything looks so jolly different."
"I do hope he'll be there," Mabel said; "he was such a dear, Cathy—a perfect bailiff, with the soul of a gentleman."
"He isn't there, though," said Jimmy. "I
