“Let’s get together and do something about it tomorrow morning,” suggested Ronny vaguely. “You know, get him up at seven. Stagger the household. Tredwell loses his false whiskers and drops the tea urn. Lady Coote has hysterics and faints in Bill’s arms⁠—Bill being the weight carrier. Sir Oswald says ‘Ha!’ and steel goes up a point and five eighths. Pongo registers emotion by throwing down his spectacles and stamping on them.”

“You don’t know Gerry,” said Jimmy. “I daresay enough cold water might wake him⁠—judiciously applied, that is. But he’d only turn over and go to sleep again.”

“Oh! we must think of something more subtle than cold water,” said Socks.

“Well, what?” asked Ronny bluntly. And nobody had any answer ready.

“We ought to be able to think of something,” said Bill. “Who’s got any brains?”