"What on earth are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"Sit down," I said; "this is my improved exerciser."

"But you'll stop the train," he shouted.

"Never mind," I replied; "what's a fine of five pounds compared to
physical fitness? Besides," I added significantly, "it may be a good
investment after all."

For perhaps twenty seconds there was the silent tension of expectation
in the air and then I realised with a shock that the train did not
show any signs of slackening speed. It was, if anything, going faster.
I snatched frantically at the cord and pulled about half-a-furlong
into the carriage. We flashed past Ealing like a rocket, and I
desperately drew in coils and coils of the communicator until I and
Westaby Jones resembled the Laocoon. It was no good. Smoothly and
irresistibly we glided into the terminus and drew up at the platform
three minutes ahead of time.

I have paid Westaby Jones, who was unmannerly enough to look pleased.
I have also corresponded with the railway company, claiming damages
on the grounds of culpable negligence. Unfortunately they require more
evidence than I am prepared to supply of the reasonable urgency of my
action.

* * * * *

From a theatre programme:--