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do it. Only two touts and the stable-cat know this one. But you shall know it, Beach, the minute I give that pig back and claim my reward. And that pig needs to be fed. Beach, how about it?’
    For a long minute the butler stared before him, silent. Then, as if he felt that some simple, symbolic act of the sort was what this moment demanded, he went to the bullfinch’s cage and put a green-baize cloth over it.
    ‘Tell me just what it is you wish me to do, Mr Ronald,’ he said.
    VI
    The dawn of another day crept upon Blandings Castle. Hour by hour the light grew stronger till, piercing the curtains of Ronnie’s bedroom, it woke him from a disturbed slumber. He turned sleepily on the pillow. He was dimly conscious of having had the most extraordinary dream, all about stealing pigs. In this dream . . .
    He sat up with a jerk. Like cold water dashed in his face had come the realization that it had been no dream.
    ‘Gosh!’ said Ronnie, blinking.
    Few things have such a tonic effect on a young man accustomed to be a little heavy on waking in the morning as the discovery that he has stolen a prize pig overnight. Usually, at this hour, Ronnie was more or less of an inanimate mass till kindly hands brought him his early cup of tea: but to-day he thrilled all down his pyjama-clad form with a novel alertness. Not since he had left school had he ‘sprung out of bed’, but he did so now. Bed, generally so attractive to him, had lost its fascination. He wanted to be up and about.
    He had bathed, shaved, and was slipping into his trousers when his toilet was interrupted by the arrival of his old friend Hugo Carmody. On Hugo’s face there was an expression which it was impossible to misread. It indicated as plainly as a label that he had come bearing news, and Ronnie, guessing the nature of this news, braced himself to be suitably startled.
    ‘Ronnie!’
    ‘Well?’
    ‘Heard what’s happened?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You know that pig of your uncle’s?’
    ‘What about it?’
    ‘It’s gone.’
    ‘Gone?’
    ‘Gone!’ said Hugo, rolling the word round his tongue. ‘I met the old boy half a minute ago, and he told me. It seems he went down to the pig-bin for a before-breakfast look at the animal, and it wasn’t there.’
    ‘Wasn’t there?’
    ‘Wasn’t there.’
    ‘How do you mean, wasn’t there?’
    ‘Well, it wasn’t. Wasn’t there at all. It had gone.’
    ‘Gone?’
    ‘Gone! Its room was empty and its bed had not been slept in.’

    ‘Well, I’m dashed!’ said Ronnie.
    He was feeling pleased with himself. He felt he had played his part well. Just the right incredulous amazement, changing just soon enough into stunned belief.
    ‘You don’t seem very surprised,’ said Hugo.
    Ronnie was stung. The charge was monstrous.
    ‘Yes, I do,’ he cried. ‘I seem frightfully surprised. I am surprised. Why shouldn’t I be surprised?’
    ‘All right. Just as you say. Spring about a bit more, though, another time when I bring you these sensational items. Well, I’ll tell you one thing,’ said Hugo with satisfaction.
    ‘Out of evil cometh good. It’s an ill wind that has no turning. For me this startling occurrence has been a life-saver. I’ve got thirty-six hours leave out of it. The old boy is sending me up to London to get a detective.’
    ‘A what?’
    A detective.’
    A detective!’
    Ronnie was conscious of a marked spasm of uneasiness. He had not bargained for detectives.
    ‘From a place called the Argus Enquiry Agency.’
    Ronnie’s uneasiness increased. This thing was not going to be so simple after all. He had never actually met a detective, but he had read a lot about them. They nosed about and found clues. For all he knew, he might have left a hundred clues.
    ‘Naturally I shall have to stay the night in town. And, much as I like this place,’ said Hugo, ‘there’s no denying that a night in town won’t hurt. I’ve got fidgety feet, and a spot of dancing will do me all the good in the world.