I stared for a moment and then bent over the lock of
the upper drawer, that drawer which concealed the mythical uniform coat
with the important mythical papers in the pocket.
There could not be a shadow of doubt as to what had happened. The lock
had been taken off and put in again since I last saw it. And now of
course my hosts knew as well as I did that no uniform coat had ever lain
there, and consequently that their guest had never worn one.
I had meant to slack, but this situation obviously required some thinking
over, so I lit a pipe, threw myself down on the bed, and began.
"Bowled out again!" I thought. "At the rate the wickets are going down,
the innings must be dashed near over. They've found out my German accent
was a fake, they've discovered the parachute and know I neither landed
from a British cruiser nor a German submarine, and now they know that I
lied about that coat.
"And what is my own score? By Gad, I don't honestly think I've made a
single run! I have no idea whether these discoveries have been made by
people in league with one another, who pool their knowledge, or whether
my enemies only know part of all this, and if so which part. However,
that matters less since they know enough to shoot at sight.
"Furthermore, I don't know which of them are my enemies, or how many
there are, or in fact any dashed thing about them.
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