as I was to be disturbed at dinner — the food spoiling on the table! — I could not but acknowledge that, as Ernest said, it was the hand of a master which held that bow. A moment, listening, we paused; then again ascended. Sweeter and sweeter grew the music, until, just as we reached the uppermost stair, all at once it ceased.
"He has heard us! But, never mind, he can't escape us."
Ernest rushed forward. He threw the door wide open. He entered the room.
"Coursault! Philip! Hallo! Why — there's no one there!"
There did not seem to be. I followed pretty close upon my enthusiastic nephew's heels. The room was empty.
"He's in hiding. Come, you rogue, where are you? We know you're here, Philip. Do you think I don't know your touch, and that queer song of yours? Come out, you beggar! Why, wherever can he be?"
Yes, where? My drawing-room contains no screen, no cupboard. Not an article of furniture behind which even a child could hide. Ernest, in his impetuous way, scoured round the room. It was empty. I confess that I was puzzled. We both of us stared round and round the room as though staring would resolve the mystery. Rouse was standing in the doorway. He, apparently, had taken French leave, and followed us upstairs. He spoke.
"There wasn't no one in the room when I came up just now. It was the same with me. I heard
