WHERE ARE YOUR LOCKS ?
53
‘ You’re a thief I ’ said the stranger in a whisper, hanging on to the chair more firmly. ‘ Give it to me! Let go at once ! ’ stammered Hippolyte as he tried to release the chair from the man’s grasp. A crowd began to gather. Three people were close to them, watching the development of the conflict. Both men looked round furtively and, without looking at each other or loosening their hold on the chair, walked rapidly down the street as though nothing unusual was happening. They began to walk more quickly, and on noticing an empty side-street, they turned into it as if by prearrangement. Here Hippolyte’s energy increased fourfold. ‘ Let go ! ’ he shouted. ‘ Help ! Help ! ’ called the stranger weakly. As both of them were hanging on to the chair they began to kick each other vigorously under it. The stranger’s boots had irons under the heels, and at first Hippolyte got the worst of it, but he soon adapted himself and escaped the kicks by dancing about from right to left. Then he tried to hit his enemy in the stomach. The chair was in the way, but he managed to kick the stranger’s knee-cap so forcibly that his enemy could only kick out with his left foot. ‘ Oh, God ! ’ groaned the stranger. And at this Hippolyte discovered that the stranger who was hanging on to the chair was none other than Father Theodore. Hippolyte was dumbfounded. ‘ Father Theodore! ’ he exclaimed, and in his surprise he let go of the chair. Father Theodore went purple in the face and also released his hold on the chair. Since no one was holding it, the chair fell on to the pavement.
- But where’s your moustache ? ’ asked the priest
venomously. ‘ And where are your locks ? You did have locks, didn’t you ? ’ There was undisguised contempt in
