"Notice the ticklin' feelin'?" enquired our sub., as he took our helmets and put them carefully by. "Bit tryin' at first, but you soon get used to it—yes, rather. Some of the men funk tryin' at first—and some hold their breath until they fairly well burst, an' some won't go in at all, so we carry 'em in. That gas you've tried is about twenty times stronger than we get it in the open, but these helmets are a rippin' dodge till the chemical evaporates, then, of course, they're no earthly. This is the latest device—quite a top-hole scheme!" And he showed us a box-like contrivance which, when in use, is slung round the neck.
"Are you often in the gas?" I enquired.
"Every day—yes, rather!"
"For how long?"
"Well, I stayed in once for five hours on end—"
"Five hours!" I exclaimed, aghast.
"Y'see, I was experimentin'!"
"And didn't you feel any bad effects?"
"Yes, rather! I was simply dyin' for a smoke. Like to try a lachrymatory?" he enquired, reaching up to a certain dingy box.