In which Heathcliff gets stuck in the chimney

This morning, I heard a scrambling and a faint meow as I got dressed. My husband was convinced that one of the cats had somehow become stuck in the attic. Heathcliff had been on our bed. Puzzled as to how the cat would manage this, I started to check the attic. No cat.
Nothing. Mr Darcy was asleep in patch of sun in the living room. He opened one eye. But no Heathcliff.
My husband went into his study. There was a loud meow and two paw appearing back down the chimney.
Heathcliff was entirely covered in soot. For a black cat, he was very black indeed.
He has now had his first bath.