‘Ah, you’re not a scientist, General,’ said Lady Wyse. ‘Sir Peter would thank Providence humbly for his opportunities, and set about studying the creature’s soul. Can’t you imagine him walking politely round it asking questions?’
‘Lady Wyse is joking, of course,’ said the Biologist. ‘If I got hold of the animal, I know perfectly well what I should do.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Mr. Disturnal, in his bright, intellectual way.
‘I should examine his hippocampus minor.’
‘Well, really!’ said Lady Wyse, pushing back her chair: ‘we women had better be going.’
‘It’s a curve in the brain,’ almost shouted Sir Peter, hurrying to the door handle: ‘the thing Owen and Huxley fell out about.’
‘Bring the men up quick,’ said Lady Wyse. ‘I and your wife’ll have nothing to talk about upstairs but you, and we’ll both be bored to death.’
Mr. Holmes, who went early, had a great send-off; he was going straight to Plymouth that night to superintend the preparation for the expedition, which had only awaited Dwala’s promise. Sir Peter Parchmin made a speech, and Mr. Holmes made a speech, and everybody waved handkerchiefs on the balcony as he drove away.
‘Well,’ said Lady Wyse, as Dwala sat down beside her at last: ‘what do you think of my little joke?’