His face blazed with wrath, and he shouted in stentorian tones that echoed down the universe, "I shall deduct the cost of those cuffs from your wages!" The pile of cuffs grew into a mountain, and Martin knew that he was doomed to toil for a thousand years to pay for them.

Well, there was nothing left to do but kill the manager and burn down the laundry.

But the big Dutchman frustrated him, seizing him by the nape of the neck and dancing him up and down.

He danced him over the ironing tables, the stove, and the mangles, and out into the wash- room and over the wringer and washer.

Martin was danced until his teeth rattled and his head ached, and he marvelled that the Dutchman was so strong.
And then he found himself before the mangle, this time receiving the cuffs an editor of a magazine was feeding from the other side.