‘When they convinced themselves that I was as innocent as a new-born babe,’ continued the casualty, some of his old cheerfulness returning, ‘they gave up jumping on me and put me into a box-room and locked the door.’ He sighed. ‘I sleuthed round for a bit,’ he went on, while they listened to him eagerly. ‘The window was about two thousand feet from the ground with a lot of natty ironwork on it – and finally, looking round for a spot soft enough for me to lie down without yowling, I perceived an ancient chest, under the other cardboard whatnots and fancy basketwork about the place, and I opened it.’ He paused, and drank the tooth-glass of water which Prenderby handed to him.
‘I thought some grandmotherly garment might be there,’ he continued. ‘Something I could make a bed of. All I found, however, was something that I took to be a portion of an ancient bicycle – most unsuitable for my purpose. I was so peeved that I jumped on it with malicious intent, and immediately the whole show gave way and I made a neat but effective exit through the floor. When I got the old brain working again, I discovered that I was standing on the top of a flight of steps, my head still half out of the chest. The machinery was the ancients’ idea of a blind, I suppose. So I shut the lid of the trunk behind me, and lighting a match toddled down the steps.’
He stopped again. The two men were listening to him intently.
‘I don’t see how you got into the cupboard, all the same,’ said Prenderby.
‘Nor do I, frankly,’ said Mr Campion. ‘The steps stopped after a bit and I was in a sort of tunnel – a ratty kind of place; the little animals put the wind up me a bit – but eventually I crawled along and came up against a door which opened inwards, got it open, and sneaked out into your cupboard. That didn’t help me much,’ he added dryly. ‘I didn’t know where I was, so I just sat there reciting “The Mistletoe Bough” to myself, and confessing my past life – such sport!’ He grinned at them and stopped. ‘That’s all,’ he said.
Abbershaw, who had been watching him steadily as he talked, came slowly down the room and stood before him.
‘I’m sorry you had such a bad time,’ he said, and added very clearly and distinctly, ‘but there’s really no need to keep up this bright conversation, Mr Mornington Dodd.’
For some seconds Mr Campion’s pale eyes regarded Abbershaw blankly. Then he started almost imperceptibly, and a slow smile spread over his face.
‘So you’ve spotted me,’ he said, and, to Abbershaw’s utter amazement, chuckled inanely. ‘But,’ went on Mr Campion cheerfully, ‘I assure you you’re wrong about my magnetic personality being a disguise. There is absolutely no fraud. I’m like this – always like this – my best friends could tell me.’
This announcement took the wind out of Abbershaw’s sails; he had certainly not expected it.