
CHAPTER 1
Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night,
but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of
light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the
yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of
beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where
Mrs. Jones was already snoring.