"Oh, Gwendolen," it said, "save me."
Gwendolen looked down and saw the unhappiest little face that she had ever seen in her life. It belonged to a small brown monkey wearing a red jacket and a blue sailor hat. He was staring up at her with timid dark eyes.
"I heard your aunt speak to you," he said. "So I know your name."
He looked over his shoulder at the man and the woman. But the woman was looking at the houses, and the man was watching her.
"What's the matter?" said Gwendolen.
He was holding on to the garden railings.
"Lift up my jacket," he said, "and you'll see."
Gwendolen stooped down and lifted up his jacket. There were three great wounds across his back.
"Oh dear!" she cried; "how did you get those?"
"They beat me," he said. "They're always beating me."