The taxi drew up in front of the Gerald Road Police Station, and Hamar
was conducted to an ante-room, prior to being taken before the
inspector. Just as a policeman was about to search him, he made one
last desperate effort.
"Look here," he said, "if I pledge you my word I'll not attempt to do
anything, will you let me have my hands--or at least one of my
hands--free a moment. Some grit has got in my eye and I cannot stand
the irritation."
"That game won't work here," one of the detectives said, "you should
keep your eyes shut when there's dust about, or else not have such
protruding ones."
Hamar threatened to report him to the Home Secretary for brutal
conduct, but the detective only laughed, and Hamar had to submit to
the mortification of being searched.
"What are these?" a detective said, fingering the seaweed pills
gingerly.
"Stomachic pills!" Hamar said bitterly, "they are taken as a digestive
after meals. You look dyspeptic--have one."
"Now, none of your sauce!" the detective said, "you come along with
me,"--and Hamar was hauled before the inspector.
"Can I go out on bail?" Hamar asked.
"Certainly not," the inspector replied.
"Then I shan't give you my name and address," Hamar said. "I shan't
tell you anything."
The inspector merely shrugged his shoulders, and after the charge
sheet was read over, Hamar was conducted to a cell.
"This is awful," he said, "what the deuce am I to do! To send for
Curtis and Kelson will be fatal, and it will be equally fatal to leave
them in ignorance of what has happened to me.
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