“Number One God?”
“That’s about the size of it. He was a god when I first made his acquaintance. This gentleman’s own particular. Since he and his friends have come a good many thousand miles to get another peep at him. I don’t think there’ll be much harm in letting him have one if it’s to be got. So, so far as I’m concerned, right reverend sir, you can stop and see the fun.”
Mr. Paine stared. He didn’t understand. The look with which he regarded the foreign gentleman wasn’t friendly. The experience he had had of his peculiar methods was a trifle recent. Perhaps it rankled.
I turned my attention to the house in front of which the lot of us were standing, cabs and all.
“The question is, since no one seems inclined to open the door, how we are going to get in to enable us to pay our little morning call.”
Rudd practically suggested one way by hurling himself against the door as if he had been a battering ram. He might as well have tried his luck against a stone wall. As much impression would have been made. When I ran my stick over it, it sounded to me like a sheet of metal.
Luke proffered his opinion.
“You’ll want a long chisel for this job. Or a pair. Nothing else ’ll do it. That door’s been put there to keep people out. Not to let ’em in. It’ll be like breaking into a strong room.”
Luke proved right. All our efforts were unavailing. That door had been built to keep folks out.
“If this is going to be a case for chisels,” said Rudd, “we’d better start on it at once, before those police come interfering.”
We were already centres of attraction to a rapidly increasing crowd. Our goings-on provided entertainment of a kind they didn’t care to miss.
