Chapter Twenty
An iron door overcome – battle joined – the bottle – like a prize-fighter – ingratitude – water – Mr Caxton takes a dive
Caxton stared dumbly at the iron door through which Mrs Whittaker had disappeared.
Lord Decharles bellowed an order: “Open it!”
One of the toshers—a short man with a big beard—attacked the door’s lock with a length of wire.
“Hurry, man, hurry!” the Admiral cried. The short tosher turned briefly to glare at him, then returned to his work.
“My dear Admiral,” a surprisingly genteel tosher said, “picking locks is a delicate task. Shouting will not expedite affairs.”
A triumphant feeling overtook Caxton. He was finally of use in this quixotic affair. Fumbling in his duffel-bag, he came up with a heavy steel tool that looked like a vice that had been turn
