“So he did,� said Hood; “only it never occurred to us that the elephant was an elephant and not a metaphor. So that’s what he meant by Asiatic atmosphere and snow and mountains. And that’s what the big shed was really for.�
“Look here,� said the inspector, recovering from his astonishment and breaking in on these felicitations. “I don’t understand all these games, but it’s my business to ask a few questions. Sorry to say it, sir, but you’ve ignored our notifications and evaded our attempts to——�
“Have I?� inquired Mr. White brightly. “Have I really evaded you? Well, well, perhaps I have. An elephant is such a standing temptation to evasion, to evanescence, to fading away like a dewdrop. Like a snowdrop perhaps would be more appropriate. Come on, Snowdrop.�
The last word came smartly, and he gave a smart smack to the huge head of the pachyderm. Before the inspector could move or anyone had realized what had happened, the whole big bulk had pitched forward with a plunge like a cataract and went in great whirling strides, the crowd scattering before it. The police had not come provided for elephants, which are rare in those parts. Even if they had overtaken it on bicycles, they would have found it difficult to climb it on bicycles. Even if they had had revolvers, they had omitted to conceal about their persons anything in the way of big-game rifles. The white monster vanished rapidly up the long white road, so rapidly that when it dwindled to a small object and disappeared, people could hardly believe that such a prodigy had ever been present, or that their eyes had not been momentarily bewitched. Only, as it disappeared in the distance, Pierce heard once more the high nasal trumpeting noise which, in the eclipse of night, had seemed to fill the forest with fear.
It was at a subsequent meeting in London that Crane and Pierce had an opportunity of learning, more or less, the true story of the affair, in the form of another letter from the parson to the lawyer.
“Now that we know the secret,� said Pierce cheerfully, “even his account of it ought to be quite clear.�
“Quite clear,� replied Hood calmly. “His letter begins, ‘Dear Owen, I am really tremendously grateful in spite of all I used to say against leather and about horse-hair.’�
“About what?� asked Pierce.
“Horse-hair,� said Hood with severity. “He goes on, ‘The truth is they thought they could do what they liked with me because I always boasted that I hadn’t got one, and never wanted to have one; but when they found I had got one, and I must really say a jolly good one, of course it was all quite different.’�
Pierce had his elbows on the table, and his fingers thrust up into his loose yellow hair. He had rather the appearance of holding his head on. He was muttering to himself very softly, like a schoolboy learning a lesson.