“Hamilton-Clarke,” said the Inspector.

“Had ridden so hard in order to stop them.”

“Er—­quite so,” said the Inspector.

Something caused the dressing-room door to rattle, and Captain Hamilton-Clarke grew rather red.

“My wife and I hope,” continued Sir Thomas, urbanely, “that you will come over to dine with us to-morrow evening, or possibly to-night.”

He stopped.  A trap drove rapidly up to the door, and Lady Purcell’s voice was heard agitatedly inquiring “if Miss Muriel and Miss Nora were there?  Casey had just told her—­”

The rest of the sentence was lost.

“Why, that is my wife!” said Sir Thomas.  “What the deuce does she want here?”

A strange sound came from behind the door of the dressing-room:  something between a stifled cry and a laugh.  The Inspector’s ears became as red as blood.  Then from within there was heard a sort of rush, and something fell against the door.  There followed a wholly uncontrolled yell and a crash, and the door was burst open.

It has, I think, been mentioned that in the corner of the dressing-room in which the Misses Purcell had taken refuge there was on the floor the remains of a feather bed.  The feathers had come out through a ragged hole in one corner of it; Nora, in the shock of hearing of Lady Purcell’s arrival, trod on the corner of the bed and squeezed more of the feathers out of it.  A gush of fluff was the result, followed by a curious and unaccountable movement in the bed, and then from the hole there came forth a corpulent and very mangy old rat.  Its face was grey and scaly, and horrid pink patches adorned its fat person.  It gave one beady glance at Nora, and proceeded with hideous composure to lope heavily across the floor towards the hole in the wall by which it had at some bygone time entered the room.  But the hole had been nailed up, and as the rat turned to seek another way of escape the chair upon which Muriel had incontinently sprung broke down, depositing her and her voluminous draperies on top of the rat.

I cannot feel that Miss Purcell is to be blamed that at this moment all power of self-control, of reason almost, forsook her.  Regardless of every other consideration, she snatched the blankets and the covert-coat skirts into one massive handful, and with, as has been indicated, a yell of housemaid stridency, flung herself against the door and dashed into the sitting-room, closely followed by Nora, and rather less closely by the rat.  The latter alone retained its presence of mind, and without an instant’s delay hurried across the room and retired by the half-open door.  Immediately from the narrow staircase there arose a series of those acclaims that usually attend the progress of royalty, and, in even an intenser degree, of rats.  There came a masculine shout, a shrill and ladylike scream, a howl from Mary Ann Whooly, accompanied by the clang and rattle of a falling coal box, and then Lady Purcell, pale and breathless, appeared at the doorway of the sitting-room.