“You tied him up, I suppose,” said Sam, with a menacing calm.
Soapy said nothing. There is a time for words and a time for silence.
Sam looked at him in some perplexity. He had begun to see that he was faced with the rather delicate problem of how to be in two places at the same time. He must, of course, at once go down to the kitchen and release Hash. But if he did that, would not this marauder immediately escape by the front door? And if he took him down with him to the kitchen, the probability was that he would escape by the back door. While if he merely left him in this room and locked the door, he would proceed at once to depart by the window.
It was a nice problem, but all problems are capable of solution. Sam solved this one in a spasm of pure inspiration. He pointed a menacing finger at Soapy.
“Take off those trousers!” he said.
Soapy gaped. The intellectual pressure of the conversation had become too much for him.
“Trousers?” he faltered.
“Trousers. You know perfectly well what trousers are,” said Sam, “and it’s no good pretending you don’t. Take them off!”
“Take off my trousers?”
“Good Lord!” said Sam with sudden petulance. “What’s the matter with the man. You do it every night, don’t you? You do it when you take a Turkish bath, don’t you? Where’s the difficulty? Peel them off and don’t waste time.”