He had her arm--that is she had his arm--round her neck--my neck I mean--and I could not cry out.

Miss Brett--that is, Mr Brett, at least Mr something who was not Miss Brett--had the revolver pointed at me.

The other two ladies--or er--gentlemen, were rummaging in some bag in the background.
It was all clear at last: they were criminals dressed up as women, to kidnap me! To kidnap the Vicar of Chuntsey, in Essex.

But why?
Was it to be Nonconformists?
"The brute leaning against the door called out carelessly, ''Urry up, 'Arry.

Show the old bloke what the game is, and let's get off.' "'Curse 'is eyes,' said Miss Brett--I mean the man with the revolver--'why should we show 'im the game ?' "'If you take my advice you bloomin' well will,' said the man at the door, whom they called Bill.