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 irons couldn't drag the degrading fact out of me. They could put me on the rack, he went on, working himself up, they could submit me to the water torture and not one word would they get out of me. If, he added, I were the protagonist at an auto-da-fe I would silently burn at the stake rather than divulge this ridiculous catastrophe.

Nobody else has noticed, Ambrose almost whimpered.

Herbert Ringrose surveyed the environment. It was true. Pedestrians walked casually on the sidewalks. Traffic followed its usual course in the street.

Where are you going? Ringrose demanded in a somewhat less lugubrious tone.

To the Ambassador. Relieved by the freeing of the tension, Ambrose shot out the truth and then regretted it bitterly.

Not in that condition, Ringrose insisted. Come with me.

Like a naughty boy caught in a shameful act, Ambrose followed his tormentor into a nearby haberdasher's where he was brushed into better condition.

Now, announced Ringrose with withering irony, if you don't mind, I'll send you on in a taxi.

At this precise moment Ambrose's knees began to tremble. He felt suddenly sick. A huge tub of hy-