She went on speaking. Mr
Pickering pondered on James. Who was James? Another of the gang,
of course. How many of them were there?
'Once I thought it was all up. One of them was about a yard from
the window, just going to look in.'
Mr Pickering thrilled. There was something hidden in the outhouse,
then! Swag?
'Thank goodness, a bee stung him at the psychological moment,
and--oh!'
She stopped, and The Man spoke:
'What's the matter?'
It interested Mr Pickering that The Man retained his English
accent even when talking privately with his associates. For
practice, no doubt.
'Come and get a banana,' said the girl. And they went off together
in the direction of the house, leaving Mr Pickering bewildered.
Why a banana? Was it a slang term of the underworld for a pistol?
It must be that.
But he had no time for speculation. Now was his chance, the only
chance he would ever get of looking into that outhouse and finding
out its mysterious contents. He had seen the girl unlock the door.
A few steps would take him there. All it needed was nerve. With a
strong effort Mr Pickering succeeded in obtaining the nerve. He
burst from his bush and trotted to the outhouse door, opened it,
and looked in. And at that moment something touched his leg.
At the right time and in the right frame of mind man is capable of
stoic endurances that excite wonder and admiration.
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