“You must go before the Tribunal naked, save for these robes I have brought,” was the stern decree.
Paul smiled and sat down indifferently upon a sofa.
“Then we won’t go,” said he. “You must remember, my good man, that our customs are not the same as your own. We are neither your prisoners nor your slaves, but your guests. We will submit to no indignities at your hands, sir. If you so desire, we will wear the robes you have brought, but only over our other garments.”
The officer bowed, turned on his heel and left the room, his attendant following.
“That’s the way to treat ’em,” cried Archie, jubilantly. “When they find we’re not to be bulldozed they’ll show us more respect.”
Not many of us were so optimistic. I did not like the look on the officer’s face as he retired.
“He has probably gone to report and receive further orders,” said Paul, a bit anxiously. “I think I was right to be so positive, but it is hard to judge these people. One thing is certain, we mustn’t give up our electrites or gas-jackets. If it comes to open war at any time I am confident these devices will save us and permit us to escape.”
We all fully agreed with him in this, and having planned and discussed our actions in case of emergencies we settled down to wait, as patiently as might be, the course of events.
Suddenly a shutter swung across the window with a click, shutting out the light and leaving us in darkness. I felt my way to the cord, drew the mask from before the electric lamp and so lighted the room artificially.
“I wonder what that was for?” exclaimed Paul, uneasily, as we all stared at the shutter before the window. “Can you explain it, brother?”