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--”