He laughed; though what there was to laugh at in the notion of being locked up was beyond my comprehension.
"So that's the idea. Well, I shouldn't like being sent to prison--it's not to be expected--"
"You will have brought it upon yourself."
"So I'll tell you what I'll do; you give me a kiss and I'll hand over."
I flamed up.
"How dare you say such a thing!"
"All right! all right!--you look spiteful; and it seems you are. Sorry I asked for what isn't to be had. I keep what you want outside; if you wait here I'll go and fetch it."
His insolent suggestion had made me so furious that, without stopping to think, supposing he meant what he said, I let him go. The door closed behind him as he went; but as there was a spring which made it close, I saw nothing strange in that. And I waited. His horrible proposal--and something, too, about his words, looks and manner made me conscious of a distinct sense of discomfort. I half wished that I had allowed him to escape, and made no attempt to follow. I glanced at my watch. It was past half-past two! What would the cabman think of me outside--and I had left three parcels in his cab!--and Hetty and her mother waiting for me at St James' Hall. I went to the door and turned the handle. It declined to yield. Imagining that there might be some trick in opening it, perhaps connected with the spring--because I knew that they had all sorts of queer inventions in the city--I rapped at the panel.
"Mr Miller!" I cried. "Mr Miller! Will you open this door, please, and be quick, because I'm late already!"
No answer. I rapped again--and called again. Then--at last!--I suspected. I stooped down and saw that the door was locked. I banged at it with both my fists.