Bella knew more about the lower regions of her ex-home than I
would have thought. She opened a door in a corner and led the way
through a narrow hall past the refrigerating room, to a huge,
cemented cellar, with a furnace in the center, and a half-dozen
electric lights making it really brilliant.

"Get a chair," Bella said over her shoulder, excitedly. "I can
get out easily here, through the coal hole. Imagine my--"

But it was my turn to grip Bella. From behind the furnace were
coming the most terrible sounds, rasping noises that fairly
frayed the silk of my nerves. We stood petrified for an instant.
Then Bella laughed. "They are not all gone," she said carefully.
"Some one is asleep there."

We tiptoed to where we could see around the furnace, and, sure
enough, some one WAS asleep there. Only, it was not one of the
servants; it was a portly policeman, with a newspaper and an
empty plate on the floor on one side, and a champagne bottle on
the other. He had slid down in his chair, with his chin on his
brass buttons, and his helmet had rolled a dozen feet away. Bella
had to clap her hand over her mouth.

"Fairly caught!" she whispered. "Sartor Resartus, the arrester
arrested. Oh, Jim and his flawless service!"

But after we got over our surprise, we saw the situation was
serious. The policeman was threatening to awaken. Once he stopped
snoring to yawn noisily, and we beat a hasty retreat. Bella