He began to struggle out of his motor-coat. His arms were half in and half out when the Professor sprang to his feet, his hands freed, the frayed ends of the braid sash hanging. He had John's dirk in his left hand; he had released himself by rubbing up against it; in his right was a small revolver. "Now I think we shall talk rather differently," he snarled. "You will drive me to the station, young gentleman, and these young ladies will get out to walk to Deeping Royal or Redlands--I care not which." The Professor was holding the revolver within an inch of John's neck. Joey wondered whether it was all a bad dream, or a reality in which she ought to make a snatch at the revolver, and try and overpower the Professor. But John settled the question before she had time to decide. "Get out, girls," he said. "You had better go straight to Deeping Royal. I'll drive the Professor along as he suggests." Joey got out obediently, and the other two followed suit. "Hurry!" the Professor snarled. John got his hands free of his coat in leisurely fashion. The girls stood close together on the road. "Let's go for him," whispered Noreen; but Joey was looking at John. John's thin brown face was perfectly impassive, but his right eyelid lay dead upon his cheek. Joey knew quite well that John, alone, and with a very game leg, had nevertheless something up his sleeve. "Get on!" reiterated the Professor. His French accent was dropping from him, Joey noticed; he spoke good English now, though with the hard guttural which hardly any Englishman achieves. The car was a self-starter. John whirled off without remark, leaving the three Redlands girls stranded rather forlornly on the wind-swept road. They all three shivered a little as the car grew smaller and smaller in the distance. They were afraid for John, and also puzzled by his acquiescence in the situation--an acquiescence so out of keeping with the little bit of ribbon on his jacket. Added to which they were all three very cold, and a longish walk and drive lay between them and tea. Noreen broke the silence. "I vote we get on to Deeping Royal, and tell Miss Conyngham what has happened. Some story anyhow, if she does row us for sloping off. Won't she be jolly excited to know about the Professor? What do you say, Gabrielle and Joey?" "Yes, I think we had better go now," Gabrielle agreed. "I'm afraid we can't do anything for John, and Miss Conyngham ought to know." But Joey stood still stubbornly by the roadside. "I don't care if she ought; I'm going to wait for John," she said. "At least, I mean, I'm going along to Mote to tell Cousin Greta what's happened to him." Joey tried to speak as though she did not mind a bit about the three-mile tramp, or anything. "You two go along to the match, and tell Miss Conyngham. I'll try and square up the disobedience and being so untidy, and letting Redlands down, afterwards, when there's time."