Nobody knows for certain the feelings of the camel when his proprietorplaced that last straw on his back. The incident happened so long ago.

　　If it had occurred in modern times, he would probably have contributeda first-hand report to the _Daily Mail._ But it is very likelythat he felt on that occasion exactly as Fenn felt when, after a nightof unparalleled misadventure, he found that somebody had cut off hisretreat by latching the window. After a gruelling race Fate had justbeaten him on the tape.

　　There was no doubt about its being latched. The sash had not merelystuck. He put all he knew into the effort to raise it, but without ahint of success. After three attempts he climbed down again and,sitting on the garden-seat, began to review his position.

　　If one has an active mind and a fair degree of optimism, the effect ofthe "staggerers" administered by Fate passes off after a while. Fennhad both. The consequence was that, after ten minutes of grey despair,he was relieved by a faint hope that there might be some other wayinto the house than through his study. Anyhow, it would be worth whileto investigate.

　　His study was at the side of the house. At the back were the kitchen,the scullery, and the dining-room, and above these more studies and acouple of dormitories. As a last resort he might fling rocks and othersolids at the windows until he woke somebody up. But he did not feellike trying this plan until every other had failed. He had no desireto let a garrulous dormitory into the secret of his wanderings. Whathe hoped was that he might find one of the lower windows open.

　　And so he did.

　　As he turned the corner of the house he saw what he had been lookingfor. The very first window was wide open. His spirits shot up, and forthe first time since he had left the theatre he was conscious oftaking a pleasure in his adventurous career. Fate was with him afterall. He could not help smiling as he remembered how he had felt duringthat ten minutes on the garden-seat, when the future seemed blank anddevoid of any comfort whatsoever. And all the time he could have gotin without an effort, if he had only thought of walking half a dozenyards.

　　Now that the way was open to him, he wasted no time. He climbedthrough into the dark room. He was not certain which room it was, inspite of his lengthy residence at Kay's.

　　He let himself down softly till his foot touched the floor. After amoment's pause he moved forward a step. Then another. At the thirdstep his knee struck the leg of a table. He must be in thedining-room. If so, he was all right. He could find his way up to hisroom with his eyes shut. It was easy to find out for certain. Thewalls of the dining-room at Kay's, as in the other houses, werecovered with photographs. He walked gingerly in the direction in whichhe imagined the nearest wall to be, reached it, and passed his handalong it. Yes, there were photographs. Then all he had to do was tofind the table again, make his way along it, and when he got to theend the door would be a yard or so to his left. The programme seemedsimple and attractive. But it was added to in a manner which he hadnot foreseen. Feeling his way back to the table, he upset a chair. Ifhe had upset a cart-load of coal on to a sheet of tin it could not, soit seemed to him in the disordered state of his nerves, have made morenoise. It went down with an appalling crash, striking the table on itsway. "This," thought Fenn, savagely, as he waited, listening, "iswhere I get collared. What a fool I am to barge about like this."He felt that the echoes of that crash must have penetrated to everycorner of the house. But no one came. Perhaps, after all, the noisehad not been so great. He proceeded on his journey down the table,feeling every inch of the way. The place seemed one bristling mass ofchairs. But, by the exercise of consummate caution, he upset no moreand won through at last in safety to the door.