Then at one o'clock it was Robin's turn to ask what sport I had had. "A sounder broke away under your pillow," I reported. "Six rideable boar and six squeakers." Ugh! Those first days of our liberty were a trying time. To the external irritation of insects were added the mental anxieties of our situation. What, for instance, would happen to the twins if we were caught in that house? And, again, was Themistocle faithful? Would he be tempted by the reward offered for our recapture? At times we were not quite certain. He used to talk very gloomily about the risks and the cost of life. "Everyone is starving," he used to say thoughtfully--"even the policemen go hungry for bribes. A friend of mine, a policeman, said to me the other day: 'For the love of Allah find somebody for me to arrest. Among all the guilty and the innocent in this town, surely you can find somebody that we could threaten to arrest? Then we would share the proceeds.'" "What did you say to that?" I asked. "I said," he answered thoughtfully, "that I would do my best." "But what sort of man would you arrest?" I asked. "Any sort of man. A drunkard perhaps, if I saw one, or a rich man, if I dared." "Rich men are apt to be dangerous," said I meaningly. "I know. But what can one do?" he asked, spreading out his hands. "One must live!" "And let live," said I, thinking suddenly of the bugs, and wondering what Themistocle thought of them. It was then that I noticed his method of combating the household pets. Previously I had observed that the ends of his pyjamas (we always talked at night) were provided with strong tapes, which were tied close to his ankles; but the object of this fastening only became apparent when I noticed the excited throngs of insects on his elastic-sided boots. They could not get higher. They were balked of their blood. If he ever felt any discomfort, he merely tightened the tapes. After a careful study of Themistocle's psychology (which was so full of outlooks new to me that I never achieved more than a glimpse into the pages of his past) I came to the conclusion that he was implicitly to be trusted. In his frail frame there burned a spirit of adventure and a courage that might "step from star to star." His soul had been born to live in a great man, only somehow it had made a mistake and taken a tenement instead of a manor-house to live in. . . . I think sunset and sunrise were the pleasantest hours in our new abode. It was possible then to draw back the blinds without any danger of being seen, and enjoy the cool of the evening and the magnificent view which our situation afforded. Our house, although it stood in a side street, commanded a prospect of the upper end of the Golden Horn, as well as a view of one of the most populous thoroughfares of the town. We used to sit and gaze at the twilit city, until the creeping darkness overtook us.