I am, indeed, in the
horns of a dilemma. I must get at those pills."
Up and down the floor of the tiny cell he paced, his mind tortured
with a thousand conflicting emotions. And then, an idea struck him. He
would ask to be allowed to see his lawyer.
"Cotton's the man," he said to himself, "he will get the pills for
me!"
The inspector, after satisfying himself that Cotton was on the
register, rang him up, and after an hour of terrible suspense to
Hamar, the lawyer briskly entered his cell.
They conferred together for some minutes, and having arranged the
method of defence, Cotton was preparing to depart, when Hamar
whispered to him--
"I want you to do me a particular favour. In the top right hand drawer
of the chest of drawers in my bedroom, in Cockspur Street, I have left
a red pill-box. These pills are for indigestion. I simply can't do
without them. Will you get them for me?"
"What, to-night?" the lawyer asked dubiously.
"Yes, to-night," Hamar pleaded. "I'll make it a matter of business
between us--get me the pills before eight o'clock, and you have L1000
down. My cheque book is in the same drawer."
The lawyer said nothing, but gave Hamar a look that meant much!
Again there was a dreadful wait, and Hamar had abandoned himself to
the deepest despair when Cotton reappeared. He shook hands with his
client, slipping the pills into the latter's palm. Whilst the lawyer
was pocketing his cheque, Hamar gleefully swallowed a pill, and crying
out "Bakra--naka--takso--mana,"--vanished!
"Heaven preserve us! What's become of you?" Cotton exclaimed, putting
his hand to his forehead and leaning against the wall for support.
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