“Oh,” said the doctor, “another captive! Good. But don’t overdo the thing, Emperor. You can’t you know, go on storing up men in this way without attracting public attention. Patsy Devlin and I are all right, of course. We’re not important people. Nobody misses us in the least. But that man on the floor looks to me like a commercial traveller, and if he happens to belong to any English firm, a search will sooner or later be made for him.”
“We are Members of Parliament,” said Mr. Dick.
“You don’t look as if you were,” said the doctor. “Does he, Patsy?”
“Be damn, but he does not! I’ve seen some queer fellows made members of Parliament in my day. There was one time I was very near going in for it myself; but I never heard tell of e’er a one yet but owned a pair of breeches—to start with, anyway.”
“You hear what Patsy Devlin says,” said the doctor. “He quite agrees with me that you don’t look like a Member of Parliament.”
Mr. Red, with his assistant anarchist, left the room and locked the door behind him. Dr. O’Grady shouted after him.
“Hullo! Emperor! I say, are you there? Wait a minute before you go away. Are you listening to me?”
“I hear.”
Mr. Red’s voice, coming through the shut door, sounded more solemn than usual.
“I’m glad you do,” said Dr. O’Grady. “Don’t go away now till I’ve finished speaking. I want you to understand that we can’t possibly have these two fellows billeted here on us. It’s all very fine for you to go about picking up all sorts of people off the public roads and dumping them down here; but Patsy Devlin and I don’t like it. It’s not fair. I told you before that we don’t in the least object to being imprisoned; but we bar having an escaped lunatic with nothing on but a shirt, and a wretched commercial traveller shoved in here into a room which we have come to regard as our private apartment.”