Whether he intended the suggestion seriously or not I don't know, but I rose to it like a trout to a fly. There are seldom more than two feet of water at high tide at that particular part of the Embankment, and the thought of dropping George into its turbid embrace filled me with the utmost enthusiasm.
"By Jove, Tommy!" I exclaimed. "That's a brilliant idea. The Thames water's about the only thing he wouldn't defile."
I stepped forward, and before George knew what was happening I had swung him round and clutched him by the collar and breeches.
"Open the door," I said, "and just see there's no one in the passage."
With a deep chuckle Tommy turned to obey, while Joyce laughed with a viciousness that I should never have given her credit for. As for George—well, I suppose in his blind terror he really thought he was going to be drowned, for he kicked and struggled and raved till it was as much as I could do to hold him.
"All clear!" sang out Tommy from the hall.
"Stand by, then," I said, and taking a deep breath, I ran George through the flat down the passage, and out into the street, in a style that would have done credit to the chucker out at the Empire.
There were not many people about, and those that were there had no time to interfere even if they had wanted to do so. I just got a glimpse of the startled face of our taxi driver as he jumped aside to let us pass, and the next moment we had crossed the road and fetched up with a bang against the low Embankment wall.
I paused for a moment, renewed my grip on George's collar, and took a quick look round. Tommy was beside me, and a few yards away, down at the bottom of some steps, I saw a number of small boys paddling in the water. There was evidently no risk of anybody being drowned.
"I'll take his feet," said Tommy, suiting the action to the word. "You get hold of his arms."