DIALSTONE LANE

By W.W. Jacobs

Part III.



CHAPTER IX

The church bells were ringing for morning service as Mr. Vickers, who had
been for a stroll with Mr. William Russell and a couple of ferrets,
returned home to breakfast. Contrary to custom, the small front room and
the kitchen were both empty, and breakfast, with the exception of a cold
herring and the bitter remains of a pot of tea, had been cleared away.

[Illustration: "Mr. Vickers had been for a stroll with Mr. William
Russell."]

"I've known men afore now," murmured Mr. Vickers, eyeing the herring
disdainfully, "as would take it by the tail and smack'em acrost the face
with it."

He cut himself a slice of bread, and, pouring out a cup of cold tea,
began his meal, ever and anon stopping to listen, with a puzzled face, to
a continuous squeaking overhead. It sounded like several pairs of new
boots all squeaking at once, but Mr. Vickers, who was a reasonable man
and past the age of self-deception, sought for a more probable cause.

A particularly aggressive squeak detached itself from the others and