“Oh, you—” snapped Singh. “I’ll pay you out for all this!”
“Come on, then.”
Glyn did not wait to see whether his companion did come on, but stepped to the window, pulled up the blind, and raised up the window to look out.
“Here, Singh!” he cried, turning to look back. “Come here, quick!”
“Shan’t! And if you don’t bring those clothes back I’ll—I’ll— Oh, I say, Glyn, don’t be an old stupid. Throw my things over me again and shut that window. Ugh! It is cold!”
“Will you come here and look? Here’s the old elephant again.”
“Gammon!” cried Singh, whose many years’ association with Glyn had made him almost as English in his expressions. “Think you are going to cheat me out of my morning’s snooze by such a cock-and-bull story as that?”
Oddly enough at that moment there rang out from one of the neighbouring premises the shrill clarion of a bantam-cock.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Glyn merrily. “It’s a cock and elephant!”
“Don’t believe you.”