He said that he suffered from giddiness on a
height and had done so from the age of sixteen, but that he was game
for any number of policemen. He'd seen too many policemen, and
wanted to reduce the number. I left him clawing at a chimney-pot,
and--well, I told you the stucco was brittle, and you saw the state
of his clothes. I think he must have got out a brick or two and put
up a fight.
"For my part, I slid three-quarters of the way down a pipe, lost my
grip somehow and tumbled sock upon the serried ranks of a brutal and
licentious constabulary. They broke my fall, and afterwards I did my
best. But, as Farrell had justly complained, there were too many of
them. So now you know," Jimmy wound up with a yawn.
"What about the Lady Petunia?" I asked.
"Oh!" He woke up with a start and laughed: "I forgot--and it's the
cream, too. . . . The police who grabbed me had been hastily summoned
by whistle. They rushed me up two side streets and towards a
convenient taxi. It was convenient: it was stationary. . . . It was
my own, own taxi, still sitting.
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