Part 19 (1/2)

”Good-bye,” I said; ”I'm afraid I must go now.”

”Coward!” said somebody, who knew me rather better than the others.

”It's much easier than you think,” said Bob.

”I don't think it's easy at all,” I protested. ”I think it's impossible.”

I went back and stood over the chairs again. For some time I waited there in deep thought. Then I bent my knees preparatory to the spring, straightened them up, and said:

”What happens if you just miss it?”

”I suppose you bark your s.h.i.+ns a bit.”

”Yes, that's what I thought.”

I bent my knees again, worked my arms up and down, and then stopped suddenly and said:

”What happens if you miss it pretty easily?”

”Oh, YOU can do it, if Bob can,” said Miss Power kindly.

”He's practised. I expect he started with two ha.s.socks and worked up to this. I'm not afraid but I want to know the possibilities. If it's only a broken leg or two, I don't mind. If it's permanent disfigurement I think I ought to consult my family first.”

I jumped up and came down again the same way for practice.

”Very well,” I said. ”Now I'm going to try. I haven't the faintest hope of doing it, but you all seem to want to see an accident, and, anyhow, I'm not going to be called a coward. One, two, three...”

”Well done,” cried everybody.

”Did I do it?” I whispered, as I sat on the floor and pressed a cus.h.i.+on against my s.h.i.+ns.

”Rather!”

”Then,” I said, ma.s.saging my ankles, ”next time I shall try to miss.”

THE CONTINENTAL MANNER

OF course I should recognize Simpson anywhere, even at a masked ball. Besides, who but Simpson would go to a fancy-dress dance as a short-sighted executioner, and wear his spectacles outside his mask? But it was a surprise to me to see him there at all.

”Samuel,” I said gravely, tapping him on the shoulder, ”I shall have to write home about this.”

He turned round with a start.

”Hallo!” he said eagerly. ”How splendid! But, my dear old chap, why aren't you in costume?”

”I am,” I explained. ”I've come as an architect. Luckily the evening clothes of an architect are similar to my own. Excuse me, sir, but do you want a house built?”

”How do you like my dress? I am an executioner. I left my axe in the cloak-room.”

”So I observe. You know, in real life, one hardly ever meets an executioner who wears spectacles. And yet, of course, if one CAN'T see the head properly without gla.s.ses--”