Obedient to the slumbrous mandate, Lad turned and pattered mournfully away.

But, he was not content to return to his own nap, with that terror-cry of Lady's echoing in his ears.

And he made a second attempt to get out.
At each side of the piano, in the music room, was a long French window.
Often, by day, Lad used to pass in or out of these door-like windows.
He knew that they, as well as the doors, were a recognized means of exit.

Now, with eagerly scratching paw, he pushed at the nearest of them.
The house was but carelessly locked at night.

For Lad's presence downstairs was a better burglar-preventive than the best bolts ever forged.