"No, we have a bite on the train which gets to London at a little before twelve. It's a half-hour's ride in taxis from the station to the Queen's Club grounds. We won't get there much before half past twelve or a quarter to one. That'll give us plenty of time to dress and be ready for the Johnny Bulls by two o'clock." Frank finished his packing quickly, sent his suit case down to the hotel lobby, and began to fidget around. "I'm as nervous as a cat," he said to himself. "If they had only let me keep on working I'd have been a lot better off, but this waiting, waiting bothers me to death." "Oh, there, you little jumping jack," came the hail from the street, "come and take a ride, guaranteed last appearance before breaking the world's record." "Can't," said Frank. "Train leaves in less than two hours. Have you packed up?" "Packed up, no. The valet will do that. Who wants to pack suit cases a morning like this? Come on, you short-skate, come on and forget Queen's Club." "I'll go you for an hour," said Frank, "but that's the limit. I don't want to take any chances with a busted tire five miles from nowhere." "This machine is guaranteed bust-proof. You can trust the old reliable. It is even fool-proof." "I'd need that assurance with you around." "And you're coming?" "Yes, but only for an hour." "Don't worry, I'll have you back, hope to die if I don't." Away shot the little runabout on the Eastbourne road. As before, the chauffeur acted as guide and pointed out various objects of interest as they spun along the smooth road. "Just down there to the east about twenty miles the way we're heading is Hastings." "That's where William the Conqueror had his little scrap one day some moons ago, isn't it?" inquired the Codfish. "Yes, sir, he fought a bit of a fight there, and just over to the left there is the Duke of Buccleuch's estate. And down there in the field where you see that house in the trees I was born meself, sir." "Good for you," said the Codfish, "fine place to be born, nice open spaces; a very good piece of judgment. And the old folks still live down on the old New Hampshire farm?" "Yes, sir, they are living there now. I say, would you mind stopping at the door, sir? My mother's been ailing, and I'd like to see her a minute." "Dutiful and kind-hearted son, we'll be happy to stop for you. Better still, you give me the steering wheel and we'll drive on for a mile or two and pick you up on the way back." "Can you drive?" asked the chauffeur dubiously.