"I don't want to lose that knife," he said. "I am going to run down and get it."
The serving people had gone to bed, but there were dim lights on the gallery and one below in the big hall. Neale ran lightly down the carpeted stairs on his side of the house. The light was so dim that he fumbled around a good while hunting for the missing knife.
Suddenly something clattered about his ears--some missiles that came from above, but were not much heavier than snowflakes, it would seem. Neale jumped, and then stared around.
He could not see a thing moving or hear anything. Where the white objects had come from he could not understand. Finally he found one that had rolled on the floor.
"Popcorn! Say! it's not snowing popcorn in here--not by any natural means," the boy told himself, immediately suspicious.
Suddenly he spied his knife, and he pocketed that. As he did so there came another baptism of popcorn. He dropped down below the edge of a table which stood in the middle of the room under the chandelier. All the light came from above, and there was not much of that; so it was dark under the table.
He heard a faint giggle. "Ah-ha!" thought Neale. "I smell a mouse! That is a girl's giggle."
He saw that the way to the foot of the stairs that were nearest the girls' rooms, was quite dark. He ran out from under the table, but softly and on his hands and knees, and reached the stairway without making a sound.
The popcorn rattled again upon the table top, and once more he heard the giggle. He wormed his way up the stairs in the shadow and reached the gallery. Here a jet of gas from the side wall gave some light. He saw the robed figure hanging over the bannister and in the act of throwing another handful of popcorn at the spot where the boy was supposed to be crouching.
Neale O'Neil crept forward from the top of the stairs, still on his hands and knees. He was likewise in the shadow, although he could see the figure ahead of him plainly.
"Meow!" crooned the boy, imitating a cat with remarkable ingenuity. "Meow!"
"Ma-ro-o-ow!" urged Neale O'Neil, repeating his feline success.
"Mercy!" ejaculated the whisperer. "That's a strange cat."
"Ma-row-ro-o-ow!" continued Neale, with a lingering wail.