At this quite ordinary question, he seemed to be even more puzzled than I was. "I can't understand you," he said, and it was plain by the expression on his face that he spoke the truth. "Where do you come from?" "I come from a little place called London," I said. "I don't know whether you have ever heard of it." "No, never," he replied. "What part of the country is it in?" "Do you ever happen to have heard of England?" I asked; and again he said: "No, never." "Well, what country are we in now?" I asked, willing to humour him. "Why, in Upsidonia, of course." "In what?" "Upsidonia. Look here, I'm not what I seem to be. Surely you can tell that from the way I speak! Stop trying to play with me, and explain yourself." "Tell me first what town this is." "Culbut." He said it in much the same tone as I might have answered "Manchester" or "Birmingham," to anyone who should have asked me the same question in either of those cities--with a look of surprise and enquiry. "Oh, Culbut!" I said. "Yes, of course. And Culbut is in Upsidonia. I see. Well, in London, England, where I come from, they don't lock a person up for offering sixpence to a tramp, even when the tramp turns out to be a lord; and if they do lock them up, it isn't in a place like this." He looked round the cosy little room with some disgust. "It is disgraceful," he said. "My father ought to know about it. I didn't know there were any such places left. You've a perfect right to make trouble about this. It is a clear case for the Prisoners' Aid Society, and I'm sure, if you act properly, as you promised to, for my father, he will take up the case." "Thanks very much," I said. "I have no particular complaint to make. The manners and customs of--what's the name of the place?--Culbut--are different from those I've been accustomed to, but they don't seem to be entirely objectionable. Can you tell me what they will do, by the by, supposing I am found guilty of the charge brought against me--whatever it is--to-morrow!" "Oh, we'll try and get you off. Your appearance is in your favour." "Thank you. But tell me what they will do if I _am_ found guilty." "Well, there has been a good deal of it lately, and the police are determined to stamp it out. And Potter is rather high game to fly at, you must admit. He is determined to get you a month, which is the limit without bodily assault." "Oh, a month!" I said, somewhat taken aback. "With hard labour?" "I think we ought to be able to manage that. We'll try our best." "That is very good of you indeed; but I shouldn't like you to put yourselves out at all." "I'll tell you what," he said, with a laugh, "we will tell them that in the country you come from it isn't a crime to give your money away. Could you remember to stick to that story?" "I dare say I might," I said, "if I tie a knot in my handkerchief. By the way, isn't it a crime here to take money from people, and watches, and so on?"