“Remove your coat and waistcoat,” returned Alf, promptly. “The Incendiary will give you a check for them. Thank you. Lay them aside, Gerald. It’s barely possible he will need them again.” Alf crossed to the window-seat and piled the cushions together in the middle. “Now, gentlemen, the first ordeal will be that known as the Ordeal by Water.” He opened the window from the bottom and put his hand out. It was still raining hard, and Alf seemed to derive much satisfaction from the fact. “Kindly place yourselves on the cushions, gentlemen. No, faces up, please, and heads outside the window. That’s it. Thank you very much.”
“But it’s raining, you idiot!” protested Joe.
“Ah, that is the point,” replied Alf, gravely.
“Well, I’m going to take my collar and tie off,” grumbled Joe. He did so, and Arthur followed his example. Then, side by side, they stretched themselves across the cushions, their legs sprawling over the floor, and their heads and shoulders over the sill.
“Beautiful,” said Alf, approvingly. “Hold it, please.” From somewhere he whisked into sight two broad-mouthed tin funnels and clapped them into the mouths of the recumbent boys. At the same instant he closed the window as far as it would go. Both strove to get their hands outside to remove the funnels, but they were so closely jammed in that they couldn’t move their arms. Dan and Tom and Gerald viewed the proceedings with broad grins.
“How long before they will drown?” asked Tom, untroubledly.
“About two minutes,” replied Alf, darting to the door. It opened and closed behind him, and they heard him speed down the corridor and then go racing upstairs. A moment later there were footsteps in the room overhead. Dan looked inquiringly at Tom.
“Whose room is above?” he asked.
“Steve Lingard’s. What’s Alf up to, do you suppose?”