"
"How on earth are we to know?" said Peter. "The mean pig hasn't brought
us a present, and I'm hanged if he shall carry one off."
"To-morrow, when's he having his bath," said Mrs. Peter excitedly, "he's
sure to leave his keys somewhere, and we can go through his portmanteau.
It's the only thing to do."
On the morrow an alert watch was kept by the conspirators behind half-
closed doors, and when Wilfrid, clad in a gorgeous bath-robe, had made
his way to the bath-room, there was a swift and furtive rush by two
excited individuals towards the principal guest-chamber. Mrs. Peter kept
guard outside, while her husband first made a hurried and successful
search for the keys, and then plunged at the portmanteau with the air of
a disagreeably conscientious Customs official. The quest was a brief
one; a silver cream jug lay embedded in the folds of some zephyr shirts.
"The cunning brute," said Mrs. Peters; "he took a cream jug because there
were so many; he thought one wouldn't be missed. Quick, fly down with it
and put it back among the others."
Wilfrid was late in coming down to breakfast, and his manner showed
plainly that something was amiss.
"It's an unpleasant thing to have to say," he blurted out presently, "but
I'm afraid you must have a thief among your servants.
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