“Outside...!”
Tab thrust his shoulder again at the dazed man and Mr. Stott walked out into the rain just as the first fire engine came clanging into the street.
“There is a fire,” said Mr. Stott with satisfaction. “Come and have a drink.”
Tab wanted something more than a drink. He saw a running policeman and hailed him.
“Officer, can you unlock these handcuffs? I’m Holland of the ‘Megaphone’. Good business!”
A turn of the key and he was free.
He stretched his aching arms.
“Com’n have a drink,” urged Mr. Stott, and Tab thought that the suggestion was not altogether foolish.
They came to Mr. Stott’s dining-room to find Eline singing in a high falsetto voice, a voice which had aroused even Mrs. Stott, for that good lady, in dishabille, was regarding the musical Eline with wonder and shame when they arrived.
The good lady staggered at the appearance of her husband. Tab seemed a less notable phenomenon—even the vocal Eline faded from the picture.