Joey scrambled up, and he backed and turned the car neatly. "Did you meet him?" she demanded breathlessly.
"Who? The Professor? No."
"Didn't you? I thought he'd go to the station or something," Joey said blankly. "John, I believe he's a German in disguise."
"Bright Kid," John agreed. "I 'phoned to the Police Station before coming to meet you, but we could do with some more information. What's this about his locking you in?"
Joey told breathless reams, without a single comma.
John whistled. "H'm! Now, where's the beggar gone?—that's the question."
The car had reached the point where the roads branched, to the right to Mote Deep Station and so on to the Grange; to the left towards the sea and Deeping Royal.
"If he only left just before you 'phoned I ought to have met him," mused John. "There isn't a train for three-quarters of an hour—and you bet a Hun knew that—they're so thorough. He must have gone to the Junction, and then he would pass Mote, of course."
"Think he went to have a squint at the hockey match?" suggested Joey doubtfully. John shook his head at her, more in sorrow than in anger.
"Joey! Joey! Think I left my distracted relations in the middle of lunch, and brought my own special and particular car, just sent me by the Governor—you shall see all her points later on when we've settled this little affair—to hear you making cracked suggestions like that. If our gentleman is out for mischief, he won't be specially keen to locate himself in the midst of a large crowd of astute Redlanders, you bet. Stand up in the seat—hold on to my shoulder, that's sound enough, and see if you can locate him anywhere."