“So far from minding it,” I said, “I should prefer it. It will give me time to sketch this beautiful old ruin.” “I’ll keep you company,” Arthur suddenly said. And, in answer to what I suppose was a look of surprise on my face, he said in a low voice, “I _really_ would rather. I shall be quite _de trop_ in the carriage!” “I think I’ll walk too,” said the Earl. “You’ll have to be content with _Eric_ as your escort,” he added, to Lady Muriel, who had joined us while he was speaking. “You must be as entertaining as Cerberus—‘three gentlemen rolled into one’—” Lady Muriel said to her companion. “It will be a grand military exploit!” “A sort of Forlorn Hope?” the Captain modestly suggested. “You _do_ pay pretty compliments!” laughed his fair cousin. “Good day to you, gentlemen three—or rather deserters three!” And the two young folk entered the carriage and were driven away. “How long will your sketch take?” said Arthur. “Well,” I said, “I should like an hour for it. Don’t you think you had better go without me? I’ll return by train. I know there’s one in about an hour’s time.” “Perhaps that _would_ be best,” said the Earl. “The Station is quite close.” So I was left to my own devices, and soon found a comfortable seat, at the foot of a tree, from which I had a good view of the ruins. “It is a very drowsy day,” I said to myself, idly turning over the leaves of the sketch-book to find a blank page. “Why, I thought you were a mile off by this time!” For, to my surprise, the two walkers were back again. “I came back to remind you,” Arthur said, “that the trains go every ten minutes——” “Nonsense!” I said. “It isn’t the Metropolitan Railway!” “It _is_ the Metropolitan Railway,” the Earl insisted. “This is a part of Kensington.” “Why do you talk with your eyes shut?” said Arthur. “Wake up!” “I think it’s the heat makes me so drowsy,” I said, hoping, but not feeling quite sure, that I was talking sense. “Am I awake now?” “I think _not_,” the Earl judicially pronounced. “What do _you_ think, Doctor? He’s only got one eye open!” “And he’s snoring like anything!” cried Bruno. “Do wake up, you dear old thing!” And he and Sylvie set to work, rolling the heavy head from side to side, as if its connection with the shoulders was a matter of no sort of importance. And at last the Professor opened his eyes, and sat up, blinking at us with eyes of utter bewilderment. “Would you have the kindness to mention,” he said, addressing me with his usual old-fashioned courtesy, “whereabouts we are just now—and _who_ we are, beginning with me?” I thought it best to begin with the children. “This is Sylvie, Sir; and _this_ is Bruno.” “Ah, yes! I know _them_ well enough!” the old man murmured. “It’s _myself_ I’m most anxious about. And perhaps you’ll be good enough to mention, at the same time, how I got here?” “A harder problem occurs to _me_,” I ventured to say: “and that is, how you’re to get back again.”