“I wanted to see inside your study. Thank you very much, I’ve seen all I want to see.” Coles lifted his fist to strike, but realising the danger of a blow he suddenly altered his mind and adopted a novel form of revenge that had never come into Henry’s reckoning. He called his friends forward. “You see this,” said he, “a kid here spying—the kid Hope! I want you to remember this.” He turned to Henry. “You know what happened to Peeping Tom, don’t you? He tried to spy and he was sent blind—blind, I tell you. We shall try the effect of that upon you.” He slowly stretched out his hands till they reached Henry’s face, and Henry was powerless to resist. With considerable delight he slowly unhooked Henry’s glasses from his ears and withdrew them from Henry’s face. He held them in his fingers with an air of fastidious disgust, looking at them and at Henry, and in the end he whirled his arm like a lasso-king and let them go. They flew into the night, and he heard them break on the gravel path into a hundred pieces. Then he shook his fist in Henry’s face. “Now,” said he, “see whatever you like, and when you’re tired slide down—and look out for the bump at the bottom.” He withdrew his head with a wrathful jerk, pulled down the blind again, and after a moment Henry heard his voice coming from within again. “Now, gentlemen,” it was saying, “I think I’ll just go downstairs and meet him.” For a moment Henry hung impotently where he was, a veritable monkey on a stick. He looked downwards. He could see nothing. The night was dark, and without his glasses he could scarcely distinguish the fingers upon his hand. He felt for a grip. At last in utter misery and despair he began to slip awkwardly down the pipe, and even as he went he heard Coles come out of the house and shout to him: “You may as well hurry up. The longer you stay there the worse it will be for you when you get to the bottom.” Henry looked down again. He could still distinguish nothing. He could only feel his way. As his feet touched the ground Coles would leap upon him out of the night. He would never see him coming. He would be unable to protect himself in any way. Above all, he would have to stagger to bed afterwards without his glasses. He would not even be able to find the frames. Only the really short-sighted can understand what misery was his just then. He went down stiffly, hand over hand, trying to keep his lips from trembling. At last he felt the gravel under his feet, released his hold of the drain-pipe and stood upright. From out the darkness Coles spoke. “Now,” said he, “you can make ready for the biggest hiding you ever had.” Henry backed against the wall and tried to make out Coles’ expression by screwing up his eyes till only little bead points of watery blue were showing. It was no good. Coles was merely a vast blur blotting out all hope. He felt a large hand upon his collar. “Now,” said Coles. And then, dramatically, there came from under the trees a sharp command.