"You beautiful devil," he muttered, through clenched teeth. "I knew you could do it. I knew you would bewitch the young attaché. All men are puppets in your hands, beautiful, beautiful fiend!"
The moment had come. Hastily donning my false nose, I flung open the wardrobe, shouted the signal and covered the pair with my stiletto. The woman screamed and flung herself into the arms of her accomplice.
"Ah, ha, foiled again! Curse you!" He snarled and covered me with the plans of the fortress.
I grappled with him, he grappled with me, the beautiful devil grappled with both of us; we all grappled.
There was no movement from the bathroom door.
We grappled some more, we grappled all over the table, over the washstand and a brace of chairs. The villain lost his whiskers, the villainess lost her lovely golden wig, the hero (me) lost his false nose. I shouted the signal once more, the villain shouted it, the villainess shouted it, we all shouted it.
There was no movement from the bathroom door.
We grappled some more, we grappled over the chest of drawers, under the carpet and in and out of the towel-horse.
A muffled report rang out from somewhere about the beautiful devil.
"For God's sake, go easy!" she wheezed in my left ear. "My corsets have went!"