From within came the voice again, and I have never heard anything to touch the combined pathos, dignity and indignation it managed to condense into two words.
"Yes, sir?"
"What on earth are you doing in there?"
"I came here, sir, in accordance with your instructions on the telephone, and——"
Harold rattled the door. "The darned thing's stuck."
"Yes, sir."
"How on earth did that happen?"
"I could not say, sir."
"How can the door have stuck like this?" said Ann.
Somebody—I suppose it was me, though the voice didn't sound familiar—spoke. "Perhaps there's a wedge under it," said this chappie.