"No go," said John. "You had better come quietly. I'm sorry we had to tie you up; but we'll make you as comfortable as we can."
The Professor regained his breath and his senses.
"I do not understand dis outrage," he said. "I shall spik of it to Miss Conyngham instantly. Dese girls shall be punished...."
"I'm afraid you've cut your cheek a bit," John said concernedly. "Let me get your handkerchief—do you keep it in your pocket or up your sleeve? It's the violet handkerchief I want, the one where the code letters come out when you hold it to the fire—K V, you know."
The shot went home. "What is this fairy tale," the Professor asked contemptuously. But he had paused before he asked it—the pause had been perceptible.
"Now will you get into the car, Professor Trouville," John said politely. "I think you see that we have some grounds for this—outrage."
He turned to the girls. "I'll drive you to the match if you like, and then this gentleman on to the police station."
The Professor struggled unwillingly to his feet. Joey looked at Gabrielle and Noreen. The match had ceased to be of the first importance.
Besides John was very lame; if the Professor got loose, by any chance, he might need their help. She turned to Gabrielle. "Do you think we might go with John? John, this is Gabrielle, she's Head of the Lower School and a frightful knut, and can give leave for all kinds of things. The other is Noreen, and they're both special friends."
"Look here," said John to Gabrielle, "I really think you had better give leave for the three of you to see the affair through. The circumstances are exceptional—and I doubt if there will be much of a match to-day in this wind, anyhow. Besides I'll run you back to Deeping Royal before anyone's missed you, and then you can explain to your boss."