“Eating my bicycle tire, I believe,” he explained. And so escaped.
He saw his bicycle in the hall and cut it dead.
He heard Mrs. Larkins in the passage behind him as he opened the front door.
He turned to her. “Thought my bicycle was on fire,” he said. “Outside. Funny fancy! All right, reely. Little dog outside. . . . Miriam ready?”
“What for?”
“To go and meet Annie.”
Mrs. Larkins stared at him. “You’re stopping for a bit of supper?”
“If I may,” said Mr. Polly.
“You’re a rum un,” said Mrs. Larkins, and called: “Miriam!”
Minnie appeared at the door of the room looking infinitely perplexed. “There ain’t a little dog anywhere, Elfrid,” she said.
Mr. Polly passed his hand over his brow. “I had a most curious sensation. Felt exactly as though something was up somewhere. That’s why I said Little Dog. All right now.”
He bent down and pinched his bicycle tire.
“You was saying something about a cat, Elfrid,” said Minnie.
“Give you one,” he answered without looking up. “The very day my shop is opened.”
He straightened himself up and smiled reassuringly. “Trust me,” he said.
