These conjectures being obviously ironical, did not assist the matter, although they amused their author.
"Anyhow," said I, "I should like to investigate the thing. Suppose we go for a stroll?"
The proposal was accepted at once. We put on our hats, took sticks, and prepared to go. Then I glanced at the luggage.
"Since I was so foolish as to waste my money on revolvers," said I, with an inquiring glance at Hogvardt.
"The evening air will not hurt them," said he; and we each stowed a revolver in our pockets. We felt, I think, rather ashamed of our timidity, but the Neopalians certainly looked rough customers. Then I turned the handle of the door. The door did not open. I pulled hard at it. Then I looked at my companions.
"Queer," said Denny, and he began to whistle.
Hogvardt got the little lantern, which he always had handy, and carefully inspected the door.
"Locked," he announced, "and bolted top and bottom. A solid door, too!" and he struck it with his hand. Then he crossed to the window, and looked at the bolts; and finally he said to me: "I don't think we can have our walk, my lord."
Well, I burst out laughing. The thing was too absurd. Under cover of our animated talk the landlord must have bolted us in. The bars made the window no use. A skilled burglar might have beaten those bolts, and a battering-ram would, no doubt, have smashed the door; we had neither burglar nor ram.