“Get the key of the mortuary, send for the Surgeon, and come at once,” gasped Dam as soon as he could speak. “Priddell’s not dead. Must be some kind of catalepsy. Quick, man”….
“Catter wot? You drunken ’og,” drawled the Corporal. “Catter_waulin’ more like it. Under arrest you goes, my lad. Now you ’ave_ done it. ’Ere, ’Awker, run down an’ call up the Sergeant o’ the Guard an’ tell ’im Maffewson’s left ’is post. ’E’ll ’ave to plant annuvver sentry. Maffewson goes ter clink.”
“Yes—but send for the Surgeon and the key of the mortuary too,” begged Dam. “I give you fair warning that Priddell is alive and groaning and off the bier—”
“Pity you ain’t ‘off the beer’ too,” said the Corporal with a yawn.
“Well—there are witnesses that I brought the report to you. If Priddell is found dead on the ground to-morrow you’ll have to answer for manslaughter.”
“’Ere, chuck it you snaike-seeing delirying trimmer, will yer! Give anyone the ’orrers to listen to yer! When Priddell is wrote off as ‘Dead’ ’e is dead, whether ’e likes it or no,” and he turned to give orders to the listening guard to arrest Trooper Matthewson.
The Sergeant of the Guard arrived at the “double,” followed by Trooper Bear carrying a hurricane-lamp.
“What’s the row?” panted the Sergeant. “Matthewson on the booze agin?”
“I report that there is a living man in the mortuary, Sergeant,” replied Dam. “Priddell is not dead. I heard him groan, and I scrambled up to the grating and saw him lying on the ground by the door.”
“Well, you’ll see yerself groanin’ an’ lyin’ on the ground in the Digger, now,” replied the Sergeant, and, as much in sorrow as in anger, he added, “An’ you’re the bloke I signed a petition for his permotion are yer? At it agin a’ready!”