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By Root 6035 0

the woman in the hat to her husband. Then the char, who had retired for a moment, reappeared armed with an extremely long cobweb brush. 'Shall I poke 'I'm with my brush and see what 'e does?' she asked; and she forthwith mounted the fire escape and brought the brush into play, delivering me a sharp jab on the ankle. This was too much. In any case, I had heard enough. I now had all the materials needed for the solution of the problem, and I was in mortal terror that at any moment Sadie and Sammy would come out. With leisurely grace, under the fascinated gaze of many eyes. I uncurled my legs, and crawled on my stomach down the first two or three steps. After that I stood up, and rubbed my limbs, which had become very stiff, and walked without haste down the fire escape. 'I told you he was mad!' said the woman in the pinafore. 'He's getting away! Do something!' said the woman in the hat. 'Oh, let him go, poor devil!' said the husband. 'Quick!' said the char. And they all hurried down the other fire escape to join the little crowd at the bottom. When I reached the foot of the steps I took a quick look back to see if anyone had emerged from Sadie's flat. There was no one. My tormentors were standing all together in the laneway. We looked at each other in silence. 'Creep up on him slow like,' said the char. 'Look out, he may be dangerous,' said someone else. They stood hesitating. I took a look behind me, the alley which led into Welbeck Street was clear. Uttering a piercing hiss I suddenly rushed forward towards them; and they scattered in terror, some retreating up the fire escape and some back down the lane. Then I doubled back into Welbeck Street and took to my heels.

Eleven

I made for the nearest quiet place I knew of, which happened to be the Wallace Collection, to sit down and put together the fragments of my answer. Sitting facing the cynical grin of Frans Hals's Cavalier, I laboured at it. My mind was still not working very fast. My translation of Breteuil's Rossignol de Bois, which I had left with Madge, had been purloined by Sammy. No, it hadn't, it had been presented to Sammy by Madge. Why? To be made a film out of. Who by? Some fellow called H. K. who knows no French. An American probably. What's in this for Sadie? Sammy sells this idea to this Yank, and sells him Sadie at the same time. What about Bounty Belfounder? Sadie walks out on them. Can they do anything about that? Apparently not, they haven't got Sadie tied up properly. What about me? If I won't play it doesn't matter tuppence once this H. K. has been sold the idea. Would Jean Pierre defend me? Of course not. He'll deal directly with where the dollars are. Anyhow, have I any rights? None. Then what am I complaining about? My typescript has been stolen. Stolen? Madge shows it to Sammy, who shows it to H. K. Stolen? What's Madge up to anyway? Madge is being double-crossed by Sammy, who ditches her for Sadie. Sammy uses Madge and Sadie uses Sammy to get her revenge on Hugo and make a fortune in dollars at the same time. I began to see the whole picture. What was so maddening was that The Wooden Nightingale would in fact make a marvellous film. It really had everything. Madge, in days when she imagined that it might somehow be possible to persuade me to make money, had gone on about it continually. Poor Madge! She had picked the winner, but Sadie and Sammy would hit the jackpot. 'Not if I can help it!' I exclaimed, and made for the exit. 'An entertaining story,' said the Cavalier. 'I applaud your decision.' What was my decision? There were no two ways about it. I must try to get back my typescript at once. To do this would be to defend my own interests, and to defend Hugo's, and, what mattered most, to do down Sadie and Sammy. That would be striking a blow for Madge too. Where was the typescript? At Sammy's flat. Where was Sammy's flat? The universal provider of information to which I had applied before told me that Sammy lived in Chelsea. It was clear that I should have to work fast. I must get hold of the typescript before this H. K. could see it. The way