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.