"No, I didn't. One morning the Reds arrived in Triadropoldir, and my servant and I only just got away with the valise on one of those inspection cars which you propel by pulling a handle backwards and forwards. A section of Red Cavalry came after us, and we took it in turns to work the handle."
"Your servant won't ever be short of a job," I commented. "He ought to take to film-acting after that like a duck to water."
"We soon finished my servant's ammunition and they were closing in on us fast. My hair had appreciably lifted my tin hat when I had a brain-wave and threw out a double handful of rouble notes. It worked like a charm; they all stopped to collect the money, and we had gone quite a distance before they caught us up again, I threw out more notes at intervals, and the last thousand roubles went just as we came in sight of Denikin's outposts fifteen miles down the line. We were saved, but I had lost my fortune, for there was no chance of repeating the operation."
I sighed. Then, without any regard for the conclusions of my fellow-passengers, I silently raised both my hands above my head.
Ordinary Man (to well-fed friend). "Hullo! How are things with you? Making lots of money, I suppose?"
Yorkshireman. "No. We don't make money at Bradford—we just pick it oop."
"She had her hair cut short, and claimed to be a member of a tilted family."—Provincial Paper.