Then I heard somebody--Charlie again, it seemed to me--propose a raid on the fowl run.
The fowls had had their moments of unrest since they had been our property, but what they had gone through with us was peace compared with what befell them then. Not even on that second evening of our visit, when we had run unmeasured miles in pursuit of them, had there been such confusion. Roused abruptly from their beauty sleep, they fled in all directions. The summer evening was made hideous with the noise of them.
"Disgraceful, sir. Is it not disgraceful!" said a voice at my ear.
The young man from Whiteley's stood beside me. He did not look happy. His forehead was damp. Somebody seemed to have stepped on his hat and his coat was smeared with mold.
I was turning to answer him, when from the dusk in the direction of the house came a sudden roar. A passionate appeal to the world in general to tell the speaker what all this meant.
There was only one man of my acquaintance with a voice like that. I walked without hurry toward him.
A yell of welcome drowned the tumult of the looters.
"Is that you, Garny, old horse? What's up? What's the matter? Has everybody gone mad? Who are those blackguardly scoundrels in the fowl run? What are they doing? What's been happening?"
"I have been entertaining a little meeting of your creditors," I said. "And now they are entertaining themselves."
"Oh," moaned Ukridge, as a hen flashed past us, pursued by a criminal, "it's a little hard. I can't go away for a day--"
"You can't," I said. "You're right there. You can't go away without a word--"
"Without a word? What do you mean? Garny, old boy, pull yourself together. You're overexcited. Do you mean to tell me you didn't get my note?"
"The one I left on the dining-room table."
I was reminded of the scene that had taken place on the first day of our visit.
And history repeated itself. One of the first things he pulled out was the note.
"Of course. Where did you expect it to be? Was it important?"
"Then," I said, "I wish you'd let me read it. A note that can explain what's happened ought to be worth reading."
I took the envelope from his hand and opened it.
It was too dark to read, so I lit a match. A puff of wind extinguished it. There is always just enough wind to extinguish a match.