When Major Pontefract retired from the Indian Army he dreamt of the blissful tranquillity of English country life, enjoyed wistful pipe dreams not perhaps of three acres and a cow but at any rate of one acre and a score or more of fine Buff Orpingtons. Mrs. Pontefract's thoughts, on the other hand, had run to a nice flat in town. "Besides, dear, think how you'd enjoy being close to your club," was the final argument that tipped the scale. And so the gallant major lost his last campaign, and exchanged hunting the wild boar for the tamer pursuit of flat hunting in Kensington. A suitably obsequious agent conducted him to his prize flat, to find to their horrified surprise that it already had a tenant, for Death had staked out a very definite claim - a prior claim to that very desirable flat.