`Here!' protested the chief inspector; `stop scattering those papers all over the table!'
Rampole stared in astonishment as the doctor waddled over and picked up a bridge-lamp with a powerful electric bulb. Reeling out its cord from the baseboard, he set the lamp at some short distance from the table.' Then he rolled a low chair under it, and switched on the light. Rampole found the chief inspector's black notebook thrust into his hands.
'That, my boy, is for you,' said the doctor. `Sit down here beside me, on my left. Have you a pencil?… Good! When I give you the word, you are to pretend to be making shorthand notes.'
Hadley made motions like one who sees a priceless vase tottering on the edge of a shelf. `Don't!. Look here, those are all my notes; and if you muck them up!.. You fat lunatic, what is all this…'
`Don't argue,' said the doctor, testily. `Have you got a revolver and a pair of handcuffs on you?'
Hadley looked at him. He said:
`Fell, you're stark, staring mad! They only carry those things in the stories and on the films. I haven't had a revolver or a pair of handcuffs in my hands for ten years.’
`Then I have,' the doctor said, composedly. `I knew you'd forget them.' With the air of a conjuror he produced from his hip pockets both the articles he had mentioned and held them up, beaming. He pointed the revolver at Rampole and added, 'Bang!'
'Look out!' shouted the chief inspector, seizing at his arm. `Be careful with that thing!'
`You needn't worry. It's a dummy pistol even a Scotland Yard man couldn't hurt himself with it. It's just painted tin, you see. The handcuffs are dummies, too, but they both look realistic. I got them at one of those curio shop places in Glasshouse Street, where you buy all the trick things. Here are some more of them. I couldn't resist buying several. There's `a mouse that runs across the table on some sort of roller when, you press him down', - he was fumbling in his pockets — `but we don't need 'em now. Ah, here was what I wanted.'