f
Homeric laughter. We clasped one another; we leaned against walls; we
stamped upon the ground; we fought for breath; tears streamed from our
eyes. All the time, in a loud militant voice, Berry spoke of building
and architects and mountain goats, of France and of the French, of
incitement to suicide, of inquests and the law, of skunks and leprosy,
and finally of his descent....

When we told him tearfully to drop, he let out the laugh of a maniac.

"Yes," he said uncertainly. "To tell you hell-hounds the truth, that
solution had already occurred to me. It's been occurring to me vividly
ever since I began. But I'm against it. It isn't that I'm afraid, but
I want something more difficult. Oh, and don't say, 'Work round the
gutter,' first, because it's bad English, and, secondly, because no man
born of woman could 'work round' this razor-edged conduit with a
hundredweight of drain-pipe round his neck. What I want is a definite
instruction which is neither murderous nor futile. Burn it, you handed
me enough slush when I was rising. Why the hell can't you slobber out
something to help me down?"

By the time his descent was accomplished, it was past four
o'clock--summer time--and there was a pale cast about the sweet
moonlight that told of the coming of another dawn.

"I say," said Jill suddenly, "don't let's go to bed."

"No, don't let's," said Berry, with a hysterical laugh. "Let's--let's
absolutely refuse."

Jill went on breathlessly--

"Let's go for a run towards Lourdes and see the sun rise over the
mountains."

Our first impulse was to denounce the idea. Upon examination, however,
its hidden value emerged.

We were sick and tired of trying to wake the servants; to effect an
entrance was seemingly out of the question; to spend another two hours
wandering about the garden or wooing slumber in the cars was not at all
to our liking.

Finally, we decided that, since we should be back before the world
proper was astir, our appearance, if it was noticed at all, would but
afford a few peasants an experience which they could relate with relish
for many years, and that, since the sky was cloudless, so convenient an
occasion of observing a very famous effect should not be rejected.

Five minutes later Ping and Pong slid silently under the Pont Oscar II.
and so down a winding hill, out of the sleeping town and on to the
Bizanos road.

Our headlights were powerful, the road was not too bad, and the world