“The old days when I was a boy at school, and the troubles I had had. Then I used to question myself.”
“How did you do that?”
“How did I do that? Why, I used to ask myself questions as to whether I hadn’t done a very foolish thing in enlisting for a soldier.”
“And then of course you used to say no,” cried Punch. “Anybody could answer that question. Why didn’t you ask yourself some good tough questions that you couldn’t answer—regular puzzlers?”
“I always found that puzzle enough, Punch,” said Pen gravely; “and I have never been able to answer it yet.”
“Well, that’s a rum un,” said Punch, with a sort of laugh. “You have often called me a queer fellow. You do puzzle me. Why, of course you did right. You are not down-hearted because we have had a bit of a venture or two? It’s all experience, and you like it as much as I do, even if I do grumble a bit sometimes because it’s so dull. Something’s sure to turn up before long, and— What did you do that for?”
“Pst!” whispered Pen; and Punch was silence itself, for he too caught the hurrying of many feet, and low voices in eager converse coming nearer and nearer; and the next minute there was the heavy thump as of a fist upon the door, which was thrust open so roughly that it banged against the wall.
And then midst the sounds of heavy breathing and the scuffling of feet as of men bearing in a heavy burden, the room below seemed to be rapidly filling up, and the door was closed and barred.