“Sheep?” exclaimed Waldo.

“Yes, sheep. You don’t suppose I’m looking for giraffes, do you?”

“I don’t see why you should expect to find either in my room,” retorted Waldo furiously.

“I can’t argue the matter at this hour of the night,” said Bertie, and began hastily rummaging in the chest of drawers. Shirts and underwear went flying on to the floor.

“There are no sheep here, I tell you,” screamed Waldo.

“I’ve only got your word for it,” said Bertie, whisking most of the bedclothes on to the floor; “if you weren’t concealing something you wouldn’t be so agitated.”

Waldo was by this time convinced that Van Tahn was raving mad, and made an anxious effort to humour him.

“Go back to bed like a dear fellow,” he pleaded, “and your sheep will turn up all right in the morning.”