They made a sort of inspection of his study indeed and cleared away even the papers he had. Redwood's voice was high and expostulatory. "But don't you see," he said over and over again, "it's my Son, my only son, that is in this trouble. It isn't the Food I care for, but my son."
"I wish indeed I could tell you, Sir," said the officer. "But our orders are strict."
"Who gave the orders?" cried Redwood.
"Ah, that, Sir—" said the officer, and moved towards the door. . . .
"'E's going up and down 'is room," said the second officer, when his superior came down. "That's all right. He'll walk it off a bit."
"I hope 'e will," said the chief officer. "The fact is I didn't see it in that light before, but this here Giant what's been going on with the Princess, you know, is this man's son."
The two regarded one another and the third policeman for a space.
"Then it is a bit rough on him," the third policeman said.
It became evident that Redwood had still imperfectly apprehended the fact that an iron curtain had dropped between him and the outer world. They heard him go to the door, try the handle and rattle the lock, and then the voice of the officer who was stationed on the landing telling him it was no good to do that. Then afterwards they heard him at the windows and saw the men outside looking up. "It's no good that way," said the second officer. Then Redwood began upon the bell. The senior officer
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