him up. And mind what you're doing with that gun. After you've
finished with the dog, I should like a brief chat with you, laddie, if
you can spare the time and have no other engagements."

Mr. Beale, having carefully deposited the gun against the wall and
dropped a pair of very limp rabbits on the floor, proceeded to climb
in through the window. This operation concluded, he stood to one side
while the besieged garrison passed out by the same route.

"You will find me in the garden," said Ukridge coldly. "I've one or
two little things to say to you."

Mr. Beale grinned affably. He seemed to be a man of equable
temperament.

The cool air of the garden was grateful after the warmth of the
kitchen. It was a pretty garden, or would have been if it had not been
so neglected. I seemed to see myself sitting in a deck-chair on the
lawn, smoking and looking through the trees at the harbour below. It
was a spot, I felt, in which it would be an easy and a pleasant task
to shape the plot of my novel. I was glad I had come. About now,
outside my lodgings in town, a particularly foul barrel-organ would be
settling down to work.

"Oh, there you are, Beale," said Ukridge, as the servitor appeared.
"Now then, what have you to say?"

The hired man looked thoughtful for a moment, then said that it was a
fine evening.