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Bunting
began
to
laugh
.
"
There
was
n't
anything
there
!
"
said
Cuss
,
his
voice
running
up
into
a
shriek
at
the
"
there
.
"
"
It
's
all
very
well
for
you
to
laugh
,
but
I
tell
you
I
was
so
startled
,
I
hit
his
cuff
hard
,
and
turned
around
,
and
cut
out
of
the
room
--
I
left
him
--
"
Cuss
stopped
.
There
was
no
mistaking
the
sincerity
of
his
panic
.
He
turned
round
in
a
helpless
way
and
took
a
second
glass
of
the
excellent
vicar
's
very
inferior
sherry
.
"
When
I
hit
his
cuff
,
"
said
Cuss
,
"
I
tell
you
,
it
felt
exactly
like
hitting
an
arm
.
And
there
was
n't
an
arm
!
There
was
n't
the
ghost
of
an
arm
!
"
Mr.
Bunting
thought
it
over
.
He
looked
suspiciously
at
Cuss
.
"
It
's
a
most
remarkable
story
,
"
he
said
.
He
looked
very
wise
and
grave
indeed
.
"
It
's
really
,
"
said
Mr.
Bunting
with
judicial
emphasis
,
"
a
most
remarkable
story
.
"
The
facts
of
the
burglary
at
the
vicarage
came
to
us
chiefly
through
the
medium
of
the
vicar
and
his
wife
.
It
occurred
in
the
small
hours
of
Whit
Monday
,
the
day
devoted
in
Iping
to
the
Club
festivities
.
Mrs.
Bunting
,
it
seems
,
woke
up
suddenly
in
the
stillness
that
comes
before
the
dawn
,
with
the
strong
impression
that
the
door
of
their
bedroom
had
opened
and
closed
.
She
did
not
arouse
her
husband
at
first
,
but
sat
up
in
bed
listening
.
She
then
distinctly
heard
the
pad
,
pad
,
pad
of
bare
feet
coming
out
of
the
adjoining
dressing-room
and
walking
along
the
passage
towards
the
staircase
.
As
soon
as
she
felt
assured
of
this
,
she
aroused
the
Rev.
Mr.
Bunting
as
quietly
as
possible
.
He
did
not
strike
a
light
,
but
putting
on
his
spectacles
,
her
dressing-gown
and
his
bath
slippers
,
he
went
out
on
the
landing
to
listen
.
He
heard
quite
distinctly
a
fumbling
going
on
at
his
study
desk
down-stairs
,
and
then
a
violent
sneeze
.
At
that
he
returned
to
his
bedroom
,
armed
himself
with
the
most
obvious
weapon
,
the
poker
,
and
descended
the
staircase
as
noiselessly
as
possible
.
Mrs.
Bunting
came
out
on
the
landing
.
The
hour
was
about
four
,
and
the
ultimate
darkness
of
the
night
was
past
.
There
was
a
faint
shimmer
of
light
in
the
hall
,
but
the
study
doorway
yawned
impenetrably
black
.
Everything
was
still
except
the
faint
creaking
of
the
stairs
under
Mr.
Bunting
's
tread
,
and
the
slight
movements
in
the
study
.
Then
something
snapped
,
the
drawer
was
opened
,
and
there
was
a
rustle
of
papers
.
Then
came
an
imprecation
,
and
a
match
was
struck
and
the
study
was
flooded
with
yellow
light
.
Mr.
Bunting
was
now
in
the
hall
,
and
through
the
crack
of
the
door
he
could
see
the
desk
and
the
open
drawer
and
a
candle
burning
on
the
desk
.
But
the
robber
he
could
not
see
.
He
stood
there
in
the
hall
undecided
what
to
do
,
and
Mrs.
Bunting
,
her
face
white
and
intent
,
crept
slowly
downstairs
after
him
.
One
thing
kept
Mr.
Bunting
's
courage
;
the
persuasion
that
this
burglar
was
a
resident
in
the
village
.
They
heard
the
chink
of
money
,
and
realised
that
the
robber
had
found
the
housekeeping
reserve
of
gold
--
two
pounds
ten
in
half
sovereigns
altogether
.
At
that
sound
Mr.
Bunting
was
nerved
to
abrupt
action
.
Gripping
the
poker
firmly
,
he
rushed
into
the
room
,
closely
followed
by
Mrs.
Bunting
.
"
Surrender
!
"
cried
Mr.
Bunting
,
fiercely
,
and
then
stooped
amazed
.
Apparently
the
room
was
perfectly
empty
.
