"Lord Paramount of the island. His word goes. If he chooses, as he probably will, to tell you to go also, you'll have to go."
"Demn'd if I will!"
"He'll see to that. He'll put the Sénéchal and the Greffier and the Prévôt and the two constables and the Vingténier on to you, and bundle you out like a sack of potatoes."
"Oh, come, Graeme! This is the twentieth century!"
"That's another of your little mistakes, my friend. I can't tell you just exactly what year it is here, but it's somewhere between 1066 and, say, 1200 A.D."
"Afraid I don't quite catch on."
"Exactly! That's why you'll be off in this scene. We're under feudal law here, with a mixture of Home Rule. We don't care twopence for your English courts, and as for English lawyers, they're not much liked here, I believe."
"Rum hole!" mused Charles Svendt.
"Rum hole to make yourself a nuisance in. Jolly place to be happy in."
"H'm!" And presently he asked, "Where are you stopping?"