“You won’t go about much in any case,” said the doctor. “But for the immediate present I think you’d better get into Patsy Devlin’s bed. It’s no pleasure to us to see you standing about in your shirt. When you’re in bed I shall ask you a few questions, and if it turns out that the Emperor really has got your clothes, I’ll do my best to persuade him to give them back to you when he comes up here at tea-time. I suppose you don’t mind his getting into your bed, Patsy, just for the present?”
“I do not,” said Patsy, “so long as he’s out of it before I’m wanting it myself.”
Mr. Dick crept in between the blankets.
“Now,” said the doctor, “we’ll take up your story. You have, as I understand, two wives, one of whom bathes, and the other owns a bicycle.”
Mr. Dick sat up and protested strongly. He appealed to Mr. Sanders to clear him of the charge of bigamy.
“All right,” said Dr. O’Grady; “I’ll accept the statement that you’ve only one. Was she, or was she not, bathing with you when the Emperor came on you? Be careful how you answer.”
“Certainly not. She’s—I trust she’s miles away, and safe.”
“Then why did you express anxiety about the way the Emperor was likely to treat her?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. You kept saying, ‘My poor wife.’ What did you mean by that, if you didn’t mean that the Emperor had captured her?”