The professor wagged his head knowingly.
“You can’t tell,” he said. “It was a crazy notion of yours, Frank, this coming here to Madrid. I didn’t want to come, but you made me feel that I would be guilty of ‘robbing you of a wider knowledge of the world,’ as you put it, if I did not let you visit Spain.”
Frank winked at Ephraim.
“That was it exactly, professor,” he nodded. “And now, with one exception, we have seen all I desire to see of Spain. Madrid is to Spain what Paris is to France or London to England. I have studied the people, have seen palaces, fountains, museums, triumphal arches and so forth. I have passed the statue of Murillo, traversed the street of the Turk, where General Prim was assassinated, visited the Square of Cortez and the Square of the Orient, beheld the royal palace, and done other things too numerous to mention. And now—now——”
“Now——”
“I am going to see the bull fights.”
“Horrible! I cannot allow it—I forbid it, sir!”
“Be careful, professor!”
“Er—er—what do you mean, Frank?”
“Remember the Moulin Rouge in Paris. I wanted to visit that, and you would not permit it till you had investigated. You went off to investigate, and while you were gone I visited another place, and got into the worst scrape of my life. Beware, professor.”