'Who are you?' I have asked.
There is no answer.
I take my courage in my 'ands. I leap from my bed. I dash for the door.
No pistol has been fire. I have reached the passage, and have shouted
for assistance.
Hotel officials run up. Doors open. 'What is it?' voices cry.
'There is in my room an armed robber,' I assure them.
And then I have found--no, I am mistaken. My door, you will understand,
is open. And as I have said these words, a large green parrot comes
'opping out. My assassin is nothing but a green parrot.
'Move and I shoot!' it has said to those gathered in the corridor. It
then has bitten me in the 'and and passed on.
I am chagrined, monsieur. But only for a moment. Then I forget my
chagrin. For a voice from a door that 'as opened says with joy, 'It is
my Polly, which I 'ave this evening lost!'
I turn. I gasp for admiration. It is a beautiful lady in a pink
dressing-gown which 'ave spoken these words.
She has looked at me. I 'ave looked at her. I forget everything but
that she is adorable. I forget those who stand by. I forget that the
parrot has bitten me in the 'and. I forget even that I am standing
there in pyjamas, with on my feet nothing. I can only gaze at her and
worship.