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lunchroom。 Had the girl been kidnapped while he overslept？ He burned
with shame to think what a pitiful failure his knight…errantry had been。 His
first idea was to beard Weintraub and compel him to explain his
connection with the bookshop。 His next thought was to call up Mr。
Chapman and warn him of what had been going on。 Then he decided it
would be futile to do either of these before he really knew what had
happened。 He determined to get into the bookshop itself； and burst open
its sinister secret。
He walked hurriedly round to the rear alley； and surveyed the domestic
apartments of the shop。 Two windows in the second storey stood slightly
open； but he could discern no signs of life。 The back gate was still
unlocked； and he walked boldly into the yard。
The little enclosure was serene in the pale winter sunlight。 Along one
fence ran a line of bushes and perennials； their roots wrapped in straw。
The grass plot was lumpy； the sod withered to a tawny yellow and
granulated with a sprinkle of frost。 Below the kitchen doorwhich stood at
the head of a flight of steps was a little grape arbour with a rustic bench
where Roger used to smoke his pipe on summer evenings。 At the back of
this arbour was the cellar door。 Aubrey tried it； and found it locked。
He was in no mood to stick at trifles。 He was determined to unriddle
the mystery of the bookshop。 At the right of the door was a low window；
level with the brick pavement。 Through the dusty pane he could see it was
fastened only by a hook on the inside。 He thrust his heel through the
pane。 As the glass tinkled onto the cellar floor he heard a low growl。 He
unhooked the catch； lifted the frame of the broken window； and looked in。
There was Bock； with head quizzically tilted； uttering a rumbling guttural
vibration that seemed to proceed automatically from his interior。
Aubrey was a little dashed； but he said cheerily 〃Hullo； Bock！ Good
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old man！ Well； well； nice old fellow！〃 To his surprise； Bock recognized
him as a friend and wagged his tail slightly； but still continued to growl。
〃I wish dogs weren't such sticklers for form；〃 thought Aubrey。 〃Now if
I went in by the front door； Bock wouldn't say anything。 It's just because
he sees me coming in this way that he's annoyed。 Well； I'll have to take a
chance。〃
He thrust his legs in through the window； carefully holding up the sash
with its jagged triangles of glass。 It will never be known how severely
Bock was tempted by the extremities thus exposed to him； but he was an
old dog and his martial instincts had been undermined by years of
kindness。 Moreover； he remembered Aubrey perfectly well； and the
smell of his trousers did not seem at all hostile。 So he contented himself
with a small grumbling of protest。 He was an Irish terrier； but there was
nothing Sinn Fein about him。
Aubrey dropped to the floor； and patted the dog； thanking his good
fortune。 He glanced about the cellar as though expecting to find some
lurking horror。 Nothing more appalling than several cases of beer bottles
met his eyes。 He started quietly to go up the cellar stairs； and Bock；
evidently consumed with legitimate curiosity； kept at his heels。
〃Look here；〃 thought Aubrey。 〃I don't want the dog following me all
through the house。 If I touch anything he'll probably take a hunk out of
my shin。〃
He unlocked the door into the yard； and Bock obeying the Irish
terrier's natural impulse to get into the open air； ran outside。 Aubrey
quickly closed the door again。 Bock's face appeared at the broken
window； looking in with so quaint an expression of indignant surprise that
Aubrey almost laughed。 〃There； old man；〃 he said； 〃it's all right。 I'm
just going to look around a bit。〃
He ascended the stairs on tiptoe and found himself in the kitchen。 All
was quiet。 An alarm clock ticked with a stumbling； headlong hurry。 Pots
of geraniums stood on the window sill。 The range； with its lids off and
the fire carefully nourished； radiated a mild warmth。 Through a dark little
pantry he entered the dining room。 Still no sign of anything amiss。 A pot
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of white heather stood on the table； and a corncob pipe lay on the
sideboard。 〃This is the most innocent…looking kidnapper's den I ever heard
of；〃 he thought。 〃Any moving…picture director would be ashamed not to
provide a better stage…set。〃
At that instant he heard footsteps overhead。 Curiously soft； muffled
footsteps。 Instantly he was on the alert。 Now he would know the worst。
A window upstairs was thrown open。 〃Bock； what are you doing in
the yard？〃 floated a voicea very clear； imperious voice that somehow
made him think of the thin ringing of a fine glass tumbler。 It was Titania。
He stood aghast。 Then he heard a door open； and steps on the stair。
Merciful heaven； the girl must not find him here。 What WOULD she
think？ He skipped back into the pantry； and shrank into a corner。 He heard
the footfalls reach the bottom of the stairs。 There was a door into the
kitchen from the central hall： it was not necessary for her to pass through
the pantry； he thought。 He heard her enter the kitchen。
In his anxiety he crouched down beneath the sink； and his foot； bent
beneath him； touched a large tin tray leaning against the wall。 It fell over
with a terrible clang。
〃Bock！〃 said Titania sharply； 〃what are you doing？〃
Aubrey was wondering miserably whether he ought to counterfeit a
bark； but it was too late to do anything。 The pantry door opened； and
Titania looked in。
They gazed at each other for several seconds in mutual horror。 Even in
his abasement； crouching under a shelf in the corner； Aubrey's stricken
senses told him that he had never seen so fair a spectacle。 Titania wore a
blue kimono and a curious fragile lacy bonnet which he did not understand。
Her dark； g