A moment later there was a thump and a mighty scratching at the kitchen door.

The substitute assistant dropped the magazine and sprang from his chair.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed; "I believe--" He did not finish the sentence.

There was no need.

If he had any doubts as to the cause of the racket at the door they were dispelled by a howl like a fog whistle.

"Job" had escaped from durance vile and was seeking companionship.
Brown muttered an exclamation of impatience and, opening the door a very little way, peeped through the crack.