Tales of the Unexpected

by H. G. Wells

I looked Wish in the eye. We wanted to scoff, and there was something, something perhaps in Clayton’s voice and manner, that hampered our desire.

‘And about these passes?’ said Sanderson.

‘I believe I could do them now.’

‘Oh!’ said Sanderson, and produced a pen-knife and set himself to grub the dottel out of the bowl of his clay.

‘Why don’t you do them now?’ said Sanderson, shutting his pen-knife with a click.

‘That’s what I’m going to do,’ said Clayton.

‘They won’t work,’ said Evans.

‘If they do——’ I suggested.

‘You know, I’d rather you didn’t,’ said Wish, stretching out his legs.

‘Why?’ asked Evans.