Pat tweaked his ear. Her attitude towards him, while not exactly affectionate, was always chummy. "I hope you won't mind doubling up on the guard business," she said.
"Who is it?"
"McGinity, the reporter," I replied quickly. "One could hardly call him a guard, though, he's our house guest. He's now preparing his story for tomorrow morning's paper, with the assistance of Henry and the village doctor. If you have any doubts about it, just glance into the library."
"More rot!" said the Prince, ignoring my suggestion. "More gush about something that isn't true. And I know."
"You think you know," put in Jane, handing a cup of tea to Schweizer, to pass to the Prince.
"Now, just what do you mean by that, Miss Royce?" the Prince asked.
"You can't make a fair guess at something you haven't seen," she replied. "We've seen with our own eyes, and we're convinced that this little baboon, as you call it, is a visitor from Mars."
"I don't and can't believe any such nonsense," the Prince returned, with emphasis on the "can't."
"Meaning that you're afraid to go upstairs and see for yourself," said Jane, a bit snappily.
"He won't do you any harm," I broke in.