Mr. Daddles instantly blew out the candle, and then we all stepped very carefully to the threshold, and looked in.  The room was a library, with books from the floor to the ceiling.  The gas was lighted, but turned down low, and there were the smouldering embers of a fire on the hearth.  Seated in an arm chair in front of the fire, with his feet up in another chair, was a big, fat policeman.  He was sound asleep, with his coat unbuttoned, his gray helmet on the floor beside him, and his brass buttons and badge glittering in the gas-light.  On a couch at the other side of the room lay another policeman, in his shirt-sleeves.  He, too, was asleep, his mouth was open, and from it came the most outrageous snores I ever heard.

“Whee-e-e—­yar-r-r-r—­yaw-w-w—­yop, yop, yop,” he would go.  And then he would begin it again, and go through it once more.

We looked at this spectacle for about twenty seconds.  Then we all turned around, and tip-toed back, through the hall, and into the dining-room.

“Somehow,” said Mr. Daddles, “I think we’d better get out of this house.”

“So do I,” came from all the rest of us, like a chorus.

There was no dispute about it at all.  Mr. Daddles and Ed Mason started for the pantry without delay.

“P’r’aps we’d better put back these dishes,” whispered Jimmy; “they might find ’em, and that would start ’em after us.”

But neither Mr. Daddles nor Ed heard him at all.  The latter merely said “Hurry up!” and then disappeared toward the kitchen.  It struck me that Jimmy was right, and although I was anxious to get out of the house as quick as possible, it did not seem likely that anything would wake up those policemen for hours to come.  So we put the dishes back into the butler’s pantry, set back the chairs, and fixed the room, as well as we could, in the way that we had found it.  Just as I put out the gas Jimmy slipped the pound-cake into his pocket.

“We might as well have this,” he said.

Then we hurried through the kitchen, and into the pantry.  The others had left the window open.  Jimmy went through it first, and I followed.  As I stepped out into the moonlight I felt someone grab my arm.  I looked up, expecting to see Mr. Daddles.  But it was not he.  Instead, I looked into the face of a big man, with a long beard.  He had a pitchfork in his other hand.  Two other men had Mr. Daddles by the arms, and some others were holding Ed and Jimmy.  There seemed to be quite a big crowd of people on that veranda.

CHAPTER VI

WE ARE OFFERED LODGINGS

The man with the pitchfork bent down and squinted in at the window, still holding me tight by the arm.

“Any more on ye comin’ out?” he inquired.

“No, there aren’t any more of us,” said Mr. Daddles, “you’ve got the whole gang now.”

“Better wait a second, Eb,” said one of the men who was holding Mr. Daddles.  He was a fat man, with ears that stuck out the way an elephant’s do, when he waves them.  “Better wait a second,—­yer can’t tell.”