“I shall not sleep a wink to-night,” declared the little man. “We must make sure the door is secure and the windows are fastened. Even then, it is possible we may not awaken in the morning.”
“Or if we do wake up, we may find ourselves dead, as Barney Mulloy would say.”
“It is a very cheerful prospect—very!” groaned the little man, tramping nervously about the room.
“Oh, don’t get excited, professor. This is nothing compared to Madam Tussaud’s Wax Works, and you know you took me to see them, Chamber of Horrors and all. You did not sleep well for three nights after that.”
“Boo!” cried Scotch, as he made haste to examine the window-fastenings. “Why do you speak of such things?”
Before Scotch retired for the night, he carefully piled every chair in the room, and the center table, against the door.
“There,” he said, with some satisfaction, “if they come in that way, they’ll be pretty sure to awaken us.”
But they were not troubled. The night passed peacefully, and they were aroused at the usual hour by Mrs. Bumley’s knock on the door, and her voice informed them that it was “time to be hup.”
After breakfast, Frank decided to take a spin on his bicycle, which he had hired for the purpose of morning exercise while in London. He got out the polished wheel, and waved a farewell to the professor, who was looking from the window.
It was between nine and ten when he reached one of the riding stables near Rotten Row, and he was seized by a sudden desire to take a dash through Hyde Park and up past Kensington Gardens, so he left his bicycle at the stable, and obtained a horse. As he had an eye for horseflesh, the ’ostler was not able to thrust a worthless animal upon him. He obtained one with dash, vim and spirit, and with a mouth of iron.