Bob shook his head.
"I can't make it out. He's very particular," he said. "But let's get on."
Around the next corner they bumped into Gordon, who also announced that he had been struck with a wild desire to have a look at the ancient university city. Bob shook his head.
"I say, Mr. Gordon, you want brushing badly. Do you know you look as if you had fallen downstairs?" he asked.
Gordon said, "Do I?" and bolted.
"I can't make this out," said Bob. "This has all the appearance of a mystery, Harcourt."
"It has," said Harcourt. As they entered All Saints, they saw a man run across the grass and disappear under the far archway which led out into the Turl.
"That looked very much like De Vere," said Bob, "very much. Only I never saw him run except that time when the bulldog chased him. And then he ran differently. But of course it can't be De Vere."
After asking two reverend-looking members of the university, who looked as if they knew all about the subjective world, and a scout with every appearance of a deep acquaintance with the objective one, they discovered Mr. Bunting's rooms.
"I think he's havin' some gents to lunch, though I'm not his scout, sir, and they seems to be enjoying themselves now very much," said the scout. "Mr. Bunting is readin' 'ard, so I 'ear, but he's relaxin' a little to-day. Just now I see a gentleman drop hout of 'is window, sir. And you're the third lot I've directed there. This is 'is staircase, gents, first floor. Thank you, sir, I'm sure. I'll drink your 'ealth."