“Oh, all right, old chap. That was a slip. But I say, I suppose I’d better not stop to take my hair out of the curl-papers.”
“Glyn!”
“There, all right. Dry now. Must put a comb through my hair. I look so fierce the elephant would take me for an enemy. There we are,” he continued, talking away as he busied himself. “Is the parting straight? There, come along. Well, you are a fellow! I am ready first.”
They hurried down the stairs and made for the door, to find to their great dismay that it was locked, bolted, and chained, and so dark at the end of the passage that it was hard work to find the fastenings; and while Glyn was fumbling about in utter ignorance of how the chain was secured there came, faintly heard, from outside a shrill trumpeting sound.
“Oh,” gasped Singh, “he has missed us, and thinks we are gone.”
“Run up to the window again and order him to lie down,” cried Glyn, speaking earnestly now. “I’ll get the door open somehow, or a window, and go out to him and make-believe to mount, till you come down. That’ll keep him quiet.”
“Yes, yes,” panted Singh; “only do make haste.”
The boy hurried back along the passage, and in the darkness kicked against a mat and went down with a bang.
“Don’t stop to pick up the pieces,” cried Glyn, and there was a sound came out of the darkness as if Singh had snapped his teeth together.
Then for nearly five minutes Glyn went on fumbling over the fastenings, and succeeded at last in throwing open the door, to see a few golden fleck-like clouds softly bright high overhead, and away to his right the great animal that had roused him from his peaceful sleep.