One

           Shehadbeenrunningforfourdaysnow,aharum-scarumtumblingflightthroughpassagesandtunnels.Shewashungry,andexhausted,andmoretiredthanabodycouldstand,andeachsuccessivedoorwasprovinghardertoopen.Afterfourdaysofflight,shehadfoundahidingplace,atinystoneburrow,undertheworld,whereshewouldbesafe,orsosheprayed,andatlastsheslept.

           Mr.CrouphadhiredRossatthelastFloatingMarket,whichhadbeenheldinWestminsterAbbey."Thinkofhim,"hetoldMr.Vandemar,"asacanary."

           "Sings?"askedMr.Vandemar.

           "Idoubtit;Isincerelyandutterlydoubtit."Mr.Croupranahandthroughhislankorangehair."No,myfinefriend,Iwasthinkingmetaphorically—morealongthelinesofthebirdstheytakedownmines."Mr.Vandemarnodded,comprehensiondawningslowly:yes,acanary.Mr.Rosshadnootherresemblancetoacanary.Hewashuge—almostasbigasMr.Vandemar—andextremelygrubby,andquitehairless,andhesaidverylittle,althoughhehadmadeapointoftellingeachofthemthathelikedtokillthings,andhewasgoodatit;andthisamusedMr.CroupandMr.Vandemar.Buthewasacanary,andheneverknewit.SoMr.Rosswentfirst,inhisfilthyT-shirtandhiscrustedblue-jeans,andCroupandVandemarwalkedbehindhim,intheirelegantblacksuits.

           TherearefoursimplewaysfortheobservanttotellMr.CroupandMr.Vandemarapart:first,Mr.VandemaristwoandahalfheadstallerthanMr.Croup;second,Mr.Crouphaseyesofafadedchinablue,whileMr.Vandemar’seyesarebrown;