“WE’RE NOT GOING TO LET YOU OUT,” SAID WILLIAM,
“TILL YOU PROMISE TO GO OUT OF ENGLAND, AND NEVER
COME BACK.”
With that the Brigands turned and went slowly back to the house. The sound of a mighty kick against the coach-house door followed them into the night.
“What we goin’ to do now,” said Ginger.
“Oh, jus’ look round a bit,” said William.
Again they went round the outside of the house passing by each open window. Just inside one sat Henry V with a very demure Spring.
“I can’t tell you what a difference it’s made to me getting to know you——” Henry V was saying.
By another a group of people stood around a—Yes—the Brigands rubbed their eyes, but there he was—a Toreador.
A tall angular Helen of Troy well past her first youth and quite obviously never having possessed a face that could launch a thousand ships, was sitting in the window recess with an emaciated Henry VIII. “Look,” she was saying, “that Toreador’s Lord Merton—on the Cabinet you know, quite important.”
The Brigands gaped at each other.
A few minutes later Helen of Troy looking down saw a small meek boy dressed in a sort of pirate’s costume sitting by her.