“If you please.”

The man stepped up to it: but this time it was without effect. The brake was jammed. They poked and pulled, and the keeper took off his gun and his coat once more. And now Clifford said never a word. At last the keeper heaved the back of the chair off the ground, and with an instantaneous push of his foot, tried to loosen the wheels. He failed, the chair sank. Clifford was clutching the sides. The man gasped with the weight.

“Don’t do it!” cried Connie to him.

“If you’ll pull the wheel that way, so!” he said to her, showing her how.

“No! You mustn’t lift it! You’ll strain yourself,” she said, flushed now with anger.

But he looked into her eyes and nodded. And she had to go and take hold of the wheel, ready. He heaved and she tugged, and the chair reeled.

“For God’s sake!” cried Clifford in terror.