BLACK LARRY 153 



She sprang out of bed, went to the window, 

 pulled aside the curtains and looked out. 



In the kitchen-garden down below she saw an 

 object that had once been a man, more desperate 

 even than the immortal Tartarin. The once-man 

 was on all-fours ; he could not get on his feet, be- 

 cause his ankles were hobbled together with a 

 piece of rope. He could not untie the rope, 

 because on each of his hands was firmly tied a 

 boxing-glove. Try to untie a knot with your 

 hands encased in boxing-gloves if you wish to 

 realise nightmare helplessness in its acutest form. 

 A tin stable bucket was tied down over the head 

 of the figure, and, as a last artistic touch, one of 

 old Ryan's cows' tails was tied to a band round 

 the animal's waist and hung down behind. 



The creature was trying to get out of the 

 kitchen-garden. Miss Grimshaw could not help 

 thinking of the bhnd and hopeless antics of an 

 insect imprisoned under a wine-glass as she 

 watched. The garden, strongly railed in, formed 

 a sort of pound, hopelessly ungetoutable. 



The whole thing seemed so Hke a joke that the 

 girl at the window for a moment did not connect 

 it with the obvious. Opening the window more 

 she leaned fiu-ther out. 



"Hi! " cried Miss Grimshaw. " What are you 

 doing there? " 



The thing rose up on its knees, the boxing- 

 gloves, like great paws, seized the bucket on either 

 side, in a frantic endeavour to wrench it off, failed, 



