“That’s not exactly the same thing. I wish you’d try to be accurate. There’s no use my attempting to unravel this tangle and get at the truth for you if you won’t be careful what you say. Go on.” “I knocked for some time at the door, but nobody came to me. Then I----” “I expect,” said the doctor, “that the Emperor was in the Chamber of Research at the time, concocting some new kind of dynamite. That’s his favourite occupation.” “Good God!” said Mr. Sanders. “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid. The mixtures he makes hardly ever go off. And in any case he won’t want to blow you up unless you are a soldier. You’re not in the army, are you? You don’t look as if you were.” “No.” “Or in the militia? The Emperor has a perfect horror of militiamen. Hasn’t he, Patsy?” “He damn nearly shot me,” said Patsy, “when I told him I’d been in the militia.” “Let’s get back to the bicycle,” said Dr. O’Grady. “Mrs. Dick’s bicycle, as I understand, which you wanted to mend. When you found that nobody took any notice of your knocking, what did you do?” “I pushed the door open--it wasn’t locked or bolted--and stepped in.” “That strikes me,” said Dr. O’Grady, “as pretty fair cheek on your part, considering that you’re not an Anti-Military Anarchist. You might have guessed that it would irritate the Emperor, especially as he was making dynamite at the time. What happened next?” “I looked round and saw no one. I rang the dinner gong, which was standing in a corner of the hall. When that didn’t attract anybody’s attention I tried the door on the right, and found it locked.” “It’s a pity you didn’t try the one on the left. If you had, you’d have seen the yellow crocodiles, and they’d have frightened you out of the house.” “Then, just as I was turning to go away, two men sprang on me and bound me. After that I knew no more until----” “I wish,” said Mr. Dick, interrupting his friend’s story, “that somebody would lend me a pair of trousers.” “I haven’t got any spare trousers,” said Dr. O’Grady, “and if I had, I’m not at all sure that I’d lend them to you. You say you’re a Member of Parliament; but I’ve no proof of that. And even if you are it doesn’t seem to me to follow that you’d return the trousers.” “What am I to do?” said Mr. Dick. “I can’t go about in this state all day.” “You won’t go about much in any case,” said the doctor. “But for the immediate present I think you’d better get into Patsy Devlin’s bed. It’s no pleasure to us to see you standing about in your shirt. When you’re in bed I shall ask you a few questions, and if it turns out that the Emperor really has got your clothes, I’ll do my best to persuade him to give them back to you when he comes up here at tea-time. I suppose you don’t mind his getting into your bed, Patsy, just for the present?” “I do not,” said Patsy, “so long as he’s out of it before I’m wanting it myself.” Mr. Dick crept in between the blankets.