Cabinet system -- Great Britain -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Great Britain -- Politics and government -- Fiction
Purse there was none, a thing that bewildered them; not even a
portmonnaie, until, to their mingled astonishment and joy, some one
acuter than the rest discovered in a mass of seals at his watch chain,
a little globular receptacle which opened with a spring, and revealed
no less than four sovereigns.
It was a poor haul, but the clothes remained. Not for long. They were
all removed, and that not with roughness but, he was glad to note,
tenderly: less perhaps from the respect they bore him than from a
consideration of the value of the cloth. The precise manoeuvre
whereby the difficulty of the ankles and the wrists was eliminated,
I leave to those of my readers who are better acquainted with such
problems than I. There are several well-known methods, I understand,
whereby a man may have his trousers and his coat removed and yet his
hands and feet preserved in custody.
His boots (they were astonished to note) were elastic-sided. They were
under the impression that among the wealthy buttoned boots alone were
tolerated at the evening meal and thenceforward until such hours as the
wealthy seek repose. But they were good mess boots, and take it all in
all, his clothing, every single article of which was soon folded and
put into its bundle, made the best part of their booty.
Then there was a considerable movement of feet, a murmur of voices
purposely low; there seemed to be one person left, agile and rapid in
movement ... perhaps two: at any rate after these or this one had held
him for some thirty seconds, during which he had the sense and prudence
to lie still, there was a sharp sliding of feet, the quick but almost
noiseless shutting of a door, and he found that he was free.
His first act was to disembarrass himself of his stinking head-gear,
but his captors had laid their trap with science, and it was precisely
this which was destined to give them the leisure for their escape. The
sheet was tied to his head by a series of small hard knots which took
him, between them, quite a quarter of an hour to undo.
At last he was free. He tore the filthy thing from his head and the
bunch of it from his mouth with the same gesture, overcame a strong
desire to vomit, and looked round him.
He found himself seated upon a sort of narrow bench attached by iron
clamps to the wall of a small and exceedingly noisome room, which even
at that moment he had the wit to think that he would certainly have
dealt with by the local inspector when he should have assumed what he
had heard called the reins of office.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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