THROUGH GERMAN SPECTACLES.
Germany. "Permit me to recommend these glasses, made in Germany, and guaranteed to give an unusually wide and luminous view—same, in fact, as mine."
Italy. "Very kind and thoughtful, I'm sure; but I can see quite nicely, thank you. I can see right through you, for instance, with the naked eye. Good morning."
Arrived at what appeared a suitable spot, Ralph tethered Grey Bob to a sapling and took up his position behind a massive oak. He was extracting the field-glasses from the case at his side when his pulses contracted as he felt a cold rim of metal pressed suddenly against the back of his neck. In a flash he realised that it was the muzzle of a rifle. There was a grim, tense silence for a full minute.
"Take these," said the cold, drawling voice of the loader, "and write as I dictate."
Ralph took the paper and fountain-pen which were thrust over his shoulder and prepared to write.
"Commence," continued the voice. "I—Ralph Wonderson—hereby confess—that I poisoned—the late Lord Tamerton.—I also hereby renounce—all pretensions—to the hand—of Lady Margaret Tamerton. Now sign it."
In obedience to a further command Ralph handed back the sheet. He could not forbear a grim smile as he did so. He had written the single word, "Rats!"
It was received with a loud exclamation of protest. Ralph ducked and turned in one catlike movement and hurled himself upon the loader. The rifle flew away, discharging itself uselessly into the branches of the oak. Clasping his adversary by the throat Ralph pushed him backwards to the ground, and the pair rolled over locked in a deadly embrace. Then suddenly the loader relaxed his grip and lay limp and still.