“Our coach had rattled down Harley Street now, in accordance with my instruction, it turned and began to go up again.

“‘Hullo!’ he cried.  ‘What’s this?’

“’What then?  ’I asked.

“‘We are driving back.  Where is Lord Hawkesbury?’

“‘We shall see him presently.’

“‘Let me out!’ he shouted.  ’There’s some trickery in this.  Coachman, stop the coach!  Let me out, I say!’

“I dashed him back into his seat as he tried to turn the handle of the door.  He roared for help.  I clapped my palm across his mouth.  He made his teeth meet through the side of it.  I seized his own cravat and bound it over his lips.  He still mumbled and gurgled, but the noise was covered by the rattle of our wheels.  We were passing the minister’s house, and there was no candle in the window.

“The messenger sat quiet for a little, and I could see the glint of his eyes as he stared at me through the gloom.  He was partly stunned, I think, by the force with which I had hurled him into his seat.  And also he was pondering, perhaps, what he should do next.  Presently he got his mouth partly free from the cravat.

“‘You shall have my watch and my purse if you will let me go,’ said he.

“‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I am as honourable a man as you are yourself.’

“‘Who are you, then?’

“‘My name is of no importance.’

“‘What do you want with me?’

“It is a bet.’

“’A bet?  What d’you mean?  Do you understand that I am on the Government service, and that you will see the inside of a gaol for this?’

“‘That is the bet.  That is the sport, said I.’

“‘You may find it poor sport before you finish,’ he cried.  ’What is this insane bet of yours then?’

“‘I have bet,’ I answered, ’that I will recite a chapter of the Koran to the first gentleman whom I should meet in the street.’

“I do not know what made me think of it, save that my translation was always running in my head.  He clutched at the door-handle, and again I had to hurl him back into his seat.

“‘How long will it take?’ he gasped.

“‘It depends on the chapter,’ I answered.

“‘A short one, then, and let me go!’

“‘But is it fair?’ I argued.  ’When I say a chapter, I do not mean the shortest chapter, but rather one which should be of average length.’

“‘Help! help! help!’ he squealed, and I was compelled again to adjust his cravat.

“‘A little patience,’ said I, ’and it will soon be over.  I should like to recite the chapter which would be of most interest to yourself.  You will confess that I am trying to make things as pleasant as I can for you?”

He slipped his mouth free again.

“‘Quick, then, quick!’ he groaned.

“‘The Chapter of the Camel?’ I suggested.

“‘Yes, yes.’

“‘Or that of the Fleet Stallion?’