“I never saw anything like it,” said our guest propitiatingly. “And now, gentlemen, if you’ll let me go back to Linghurst, I promise you you won’t hear another word from me.”
“Get in,” said Pyecroft, as we puffed out on to a metalled road once more. “We ’aven’t begun on you yet.”
“A joke’s a joke,” he replied. “I don’t mind a little bit of a joke myself, but this is going beyond it.”
“Miles an’ miles beyond it, if this machine stands up. We’ll want water pretty soon.”
Our guest’s countenance brightened, and Pyecroft perceived it.
“Let me tell you,” he said earnestly, “It won’t make any difference to you whatever happens. Barrin’ a dhow or two Tajurrah-way, prizes are scarce in the Navy. Hence we never abandon ’em.”
There was a long silence. Pyecroft broke it suddenly.
“Robert,” he said, “have you a mother?”
“Yes.”
“Have you a big brother?”