"Now I think we shall talk rather differently," he snarled. "You will drive me to the station, young gentleman, and these young ladies will get out to walk to Deeping Royal or Redlands—I care not which."
The Professor was holding the revolver within an inch of John's neck. Joey wondered whether it was all a bad dream, or a reality in which she ought to make a snatch at the revolver, and try and overpower the Professor. But John settled the question before she had time to decide.
"Get out, girls," he said. "You had better go straight to Deeping Royal. I'll drive the Professor along as he suggests."
Joey got out obediently, and the other two followed suit.
"Hurry!" the Professor snarled.
John got his hands free of his coat in leisurely fashion. The girls stood close together on the road. "Let's go for him," whispered Noreen; but Joey was looking at John.
John's thin brown face was perfectly impassive, but his right eyelid lay dead upon his cheek. Joey knew quite well that John, alone, and with a very game leg, had nevertheless something up his sleeve.
"Get on!" reiterated the Professor. His French accent was dropping from him, Joey noticed; he spoke good English now, though with the hard guttural which hardly any Englishman achieves.
The car was a self-starter. John whirled off without remark, leaving the three Redlands girls stranded rather forlornly on the wind-swept road.