He sprang out of bed, hurriedly donned a few garments, and wound his way along tortuous passages to the entrance hall. Whitworth was standing there (the centre of a group) in shirt and trousers, with a small bedroom poker in his hand.
"What's the trouble?" Carstairs asked.
"Trouble! By Gad!" The little man was red as a turkey cock and furiously angry. "Some damned swine tried to rob me, came in through the window. I was awake and heard him climbing up, wondered what it was. The window was open—I always sleep with it open—he pushed up the bottom sash and got inside, then I switched on the light and went for him. Look here!" he stretched his neck and pulled down the collar of his shirt showing finger marks still there. "He had no boots or stockings on; he took me by the throat and held me off, with one foot shoved into the pit of my stomach. I was as helpless as a kid. His arms were so long I was quite clear of him, and he was as strong as a tiger. Then—what do you think? he looked in my face a minute, and chucked me across the room. Look here," he exposed a bruised elbow. "I grabbed the poker, and he hopped out of the window like a monkey. I'll swear he was more like a monkey than anything I've ever seen; he was doubled up, hunchbacked, and his head tilted upwards all the time. His hands were below his knees; he jumped from all fours. Most hideous brute I've ever seen. I ran to the window, intending to chuck the poker at him, but he was gone; whether up or down, I couldn't say."
Carstairs listened in silence, his face was very grave. A policeman arrived, and took profuse notes. "Hunchback," he said. "There was a gang here about three year ago with a hunchback bloke."
Then the excitement abated, and the few male visitors who had come out half dressed, to ascertain the cause of the trouble, wandered back to bed. The engineers did likewise.
Carstairs, before getting into bed, carefully examined the room; he locked the door, wedged the window, and put his big pocket knife under his pillow. Then he slept like a top, for he was at heart a fatalist, and felt that nothing would happen that night, and he was right. The morning broke bright and clear, and he and Whitworth were down to breakfast early.
The little man chatted away merrily about his adventure as he disposed of a very liberal breakfast. "The cheek of the swine, to try and rob me!" he said, with unbounded astonishment and indignation, so that Carstairs smiled.
"You seem to have imbibed the spirit of your navvies pretty well."
Whitworth laughed. "By Gad, if I'd got that poker a second or two sooner, I'd have flattened him out. Wish old Hiscocks had been there. He's my sort of body servant, chain-bearer, carries the instruments, and that sort of thing, one of the finest men on top of this earth, sixteen stone odd, and no stomach; he'd have flattened that chap to a pulp, he's been in the marine artillery."
"Yes, I know. Bounce knocked him out in a ten-round contest in Japan."