“Oo’re the Professor!” Bruno shouted in his ear. “Didn’t oo know that? Oo’ve come from Outland! And it’s ever so far away from here!”
The Professor leapt to his feet with the agility of a boy. “Then there’s no time to lose!” he exclaimed anxiously. “I’ll just ask this guileless peasant, with his brace of buckets that contain (apparently) water, if he’ll be so kind as to direct us. Guileless peasant!” he proceeded in a louder voice. “Would you tell us the way to Outland?”
The guileless peasant turned with a sheepish grin. “Hey?” was all he said.
“The—way—to—Outland!” the Professor repeated.
The guileless peasant set down his buckets and considered. “Ah dunnot——”
“I ought to mention,” the Professor hastily put in, “that whatever you say will be used in evidence against you.”
The guileless peasant instantly resumed his buckets. “Then ah says nowt!” he answered briskly, and walked away at a great pace.
The children gazed sadly at the rapidly vanishing figure. “He goes very quick!” the Professor said with a sigh. “But I know that was the right thing to say. I’ve studied your English Laws. However, let’s ask this next man that’s coming. He is not guileless, and he is not a peasant—but I don’t know that either point is of vital importance.”
It was, in fact, the Honourable Eric Lindon, who had apparently fulfilled his task of escorting Lady Muriel home, and was now strolling leisurely up and down the road outside the house, enjoying a solitary cigar.
“Might I trouble you, Sir, to tell us the nearest way to Outland!” Oddity as he was, in outward appearance, the Professor was, in that essential nature which no outward disguise could conceal, a thorough gentleman.