"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makes people want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list of things I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see 'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then of course I want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales, and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls and things like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is a lot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptian mummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talked to a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonder if Dick Whittington's cat is still living."
"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."
"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time," said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fifty years for each of them that would be—let's see, four times nine is eighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and——"
"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.
"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.
"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going to see him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and a stuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said the Unwiseman, brushing off his hat preparatory to going out. "Come on, Mollie—are you ready?"
The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue upon which their hotel fronted.
"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emerged from the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows his business. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that way we won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."
"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.
"Oh well—the Bobbies—the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want to get used to 'em before I call them that."