The Tunnel and the Cave

By John Schou

The book contains 37 short-stories:

A B-Mans Nightmare
How the English Language got its strange Tune
The New Earl of Balmore
How Are You, Today?
A Matter of Concentration
Nightly Departure
The Emperor’s New Rules
Called to the Boss
Nevaljashka
My World-Famous Modesty
Promotion
Is there a Doctor on Board?
Tale of the Tie
Explosive Departure
A Strange Reward
Dysthanasia
Rudolph Rednose
Justice in Lawainia
Jack the Ripper’s last notes
Hannah’s Sudden Death
An Uninvited Visitor
The Research Victim
Modern Christmas
Good Old Days
The Wall Behind
Visit from Cassandra
Axis of the Devil
Liberating the Free
A Long Way Home
The Last Container
Sporty events
Alert for Copnick
Resurrection
The Beauty and Me, the Beast
The Obituary
Projecting 9/11
Schou’s Evolution Theory

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Schou
• Release date: May 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476062204

John Schou

John Schou was born 1951. He grew up in Denmark and graduated as a physician in Copenhagen in 1977. From 1982 did he work as a consultant anaesthetist in the county hospital in Lörrach, Germany (by Basel), where he still lives. 1994-97 he was Chairman of the prehospital committee, ITACCS. A severe disease forced him to retire from the medical career early in September 2001. He has published several medical articles and three books about emergency medicine and anaesthesiology. In later years, he has concentrated his authorship on other stories, some with but mostly without medical relevance.

Book preview

A B-Man's Nightmare

It was difficult to accept not being at the top, but it was at least some comfort to know that I was designed a B-man in the new world order. In fact, as a B-man you are not allowed to admit that you dream about becoming an A-man; anyhow, it is nearly impossible, there are no more than 3% of the classified population in this group against some 12% B- and 85% C-humans. To this is added the unclassified that are not called D-men because they are not worth counting and also possesses no rights. Nobody counts them or could even count on them. Their number is kept lowered by high illness rates, connected to various vices like alcoholism and drug addiction.

The new society arose from differing demands to its various groups. In group A, one would find an increasing concentration of the economic power within few families. Almost half of the A-men have some relation to UNIHOCO (universal holding company) and the majority of C-men are occupied in this conglomeration of firms, while a larger part of B-men are employed by the state. We are all very satisfied with UNIHOCO, because it is difficult to imagine anybody being dissatisfied and still keeping his or her job. UNIHOCO owns all great industrial, mercantile and transport firms. Previously, it was forbidden to collect so many firms in a single concern, and a number of great firms competed against one another. However, as these had decided the new regulation and the majority of people were related to these firms, one way or another, it was not difficult just to change such a law, now a majority for it had been formed.

Our government is independent of UNIHOCO. It consists of B-men and even a few C-men and is elected completely democratically. The right to vote is connected to payment of tax, while the classless are characterized by not doing so. However, since the new regulation, UNIHOCO and the government have worked close together to everybody's well-being. UNIHOCO obeys the government’s orders, which is quite easy since the government first examines what can be demanded before doing so, in order not to compromise itself, as it happened once they were not quite in agreement.

As a B-man, you must work for a long time and are pensioned only with the age of 75. This limit was newly increased from 72 years as it was shown that B-men lived an average of 18 years after being pensioned, a duration which it was impossible to finance with the advantageous health- and pension-insurance. When A-men are pensioned is up to them to decide, there are no strict rules for that. In contrast, C-men stop working already with 54 years, when they lose value for the working market, but then their social status is a different one. As a C-man, you have no demand for any great operation after the age of 50. Through deletion of certain prophylactic therapies, enough means were created to offer the survivors a decent evening of life. In all, the humans of the C-class are not as poor as this story could let one assume, and they possess enough means to buy or utilize the products which UNIHOCO produces and sells.

Only the classless are living in real poverty. Probably, if it was not renewed continually through people falling off the C-class, this group would die out all by itself. Here, one will find the asocial individuals who abuse anything they can get to get drunk or for other vices. A scientific investigation has confirmed that this group practically does not support society, worse than that, it even hurts the organized society through thefts and associated damages. The classless can sometimes be utilized for certain services and are waged off for that daily, since nobody knows if you will ever see them again. However, it deserved mention that Europe's classless people are much better off than those who merge South and East of its borders. Just a few years ago, great hordes from Africa turned up against Southern Europe and only stopped after the great massacre, which took place for the great wall which protects the desired continent from rioters from the South and East. Nobody knows how many were killed by this massacre, but it must have been quite a few, since it was the last attempt since then to break out from that prison of poverty and overpopulation, and it calls for quite a bit to impress these masses.

But back to my comforted existence as a B-man in the right part of the world. It was a good position to possess, now that I had turned seriously ill. As a B-man, I had good means for that which was to come. A C-man would not be offered the operation which was now necessary. Where would we end if all parts of humanity should be treated for any thinkable disease till late age? They had tried so in the 20th century until they finally realized that this calculation did not fit.

But then the shock appeared in the form of an official letter: With the projected strain, society did not recognize their ability to accept me in group B. After all, I had not paid enough to the insurance in the previous years. And with my reclassification to group C, I would lose my occupation, my apartment and my possibilities for cure. This appeared to me quite illogical, incomprehensible how such a thing could happen. I was paralyzed, sweating and unable to defend myself against my destiny. There was only one possibility, and that arose in my distress:

I woke up from my dream. I looked at my watch, which said half past two a.m., but that did not prove anything. Then I got out of bed and found a calendar — and was finally sure to be back in the 20th century. After all, it was only a nightmare. However, I was troubled by the thought that it was perhaps a bit of a vision. Although I could enjoy good health again without any need for a known operation, I did not sleep much more that night. Only when I was approaching the time to get up must I have slept again.

Anyhow, I was rather late that morning. The rest of the family was already at the table and had called me in vain a couple of times. My daughter laughed at me and said: Father always tries to be an A-man, but now he has turned a C-man: early to bed and late out of it!

I produced a shy smile. Should I tell them how I perceived this remark exactly today? Better not, visions of the future tends to act phantastic and unrealistic, but later they just turn trivial.

How the English Language Got Its Strange Tune

In the course of my medical career, I had many occasions to read English, speak English and even write in English, although I was rather inhibited by recurrent criticism that I was not mastering proper English — until I found out that two of my ancestors were involved in the development of this language.

It all started in 1034 when Rotherik Njalsøn Schou and his son, Erik Rotheriksøn Schou, at the request of King Knud (Canute) joined his court in Winchester. At that time King Knud governed a huge kingdom, largely consisting of Denmark, England and Norway and exerted influence on neighbouring Ireland and northern France, equally dominated by Norsemen. They had, during the Viking conquest of the British Isles over the preceding centuries, found inhabitants with whom they could speak, since these had left Scandinavia around the 6th century under the pressure of the already then terrible tax authorities. Simultaneously, Norsemen went to other parts of the world; this was the last attempt to make Danish the official language of the world (other nations have made later attempts).

After some years, Erik followed the call of his uncle, a companion of Vilhelm (William) of Normandy, to go southward to the continent. There he learned Frankish, a Germanic language mixed up with Latin and some remnants of Celtic.

At first, Rotherik stayed in southern England. There were some dialect problems, but the inhabitants soon learned to speak proper Danish. He was a calm and respected person, difficult to mislead, and having made a decision he kept to it, even when it proved to be wrong. The death of King Knud was, however, a painful experience to Rotherik, who was also displeased by the unstable English climate. Having suffered 8 attacks of a common cold in one year — too common for his nose — he decided to go back to the Danish mainland, an event which took place in 1065.

Our family has often been twisted in verbal differences but never fought against another with weapons. Thus, only having learned about Rotherik's departure, Erik decided to support Vilhelm's planned raid against England the following year. Erik was quite different in temperament than Rotherik: he could indeed change his mind rather fast but always in accordance with the winning party. He was feared as a strong and cynical fighter. Historicians now agree (two of them, at least) that it was the presence of Erik on the one front and the absence of Rotherik on the other that was responsible for the outcome of the battle of Hastings.

It then took a couple of hundred years for the Frankish-Norman language to merge with the original Anglo-Saxon, to form the mixture we nowadays call English. Try to imagine how this language would have developed if Rotherik Njalsøn Schou and Erik Rotheriksøn Schou had behaved differently — then probably more in the direction of my daily speech.

Having proven that my ancestors were crucially involved in the development of the English language, I shall kindly ask the present-day Anglosaxons to abstain from any linguistic criticism of me or members of my family. Anyhow, they have ample occupation in editing their compatriots.

I made up this story after four friends successively helped me to edit a large and complex medical article (Changing Concepts of Anaesthesia). The first improved my writing, the others that of the former editor – thinking it was me. That weakened henceforth my discipline in linguistic questions.

The New Earl of Balmore

Mr. and Mrs. Tycoon-Miller were awakened at 9 a.m. by the telephone in their hotel room on their second morning in London. The receptionist informed them that a lawyer, Sir William Aldersburough, had been waiting since 7.30 a.m. but had insisted that she should not call until now, which she was then doing. They should feel in no hurry but just inform her whether they were ready to receive Sir William the same morning.

Mrs. Tycoon-Miller answered the phone in a confused but kind way: the lawyer could come to the room in a quarter of an hour. How stupid a response — nothing less than an hour would do to prepare herself to receive a stranger. The explanation for this blunder, for which she could blame no one but herself, was that she knew a lot of persons called William, but they all called themselves Bill and none of them Sir William. Anyhow, she did not want to let a betitled person wait on her behalf and, therefore, her husband was turned out of bed and the best was made of the scarce time. She was not exactly ready but something close to it as there was a knock on the door and she felt simultaneously grateful that it had been 27 minutes instead of 15. Instead, her husband had started to get impatient and was about to call the porters to ask if there was still someone waiting, but now he was there.

Sir William was about half a century old, to tell from his largely grey hair (but black moustache) and wrinkled skin. He was not just well but perfectly dressed, and he spoke a correct, almost affected English, far more elegant than that they tried to live up to in Boston, where they were proud of not speaking broad American — this tongue was really different and, though curiously pathetic, nothing to laugh at. Funnier was the hat worn by the intruder, hardly to be found anywhere in the States. She had indeed expected a bowler, but this was a high hat, seemingly fit for the head it was screwed upon.

The newcomer excused himself for the obvious disturbance and then proceeded directly to the reason for his visit: The old Earl of Balmore had died some time ago and left no direct heir. Intensive research had revealed that Mr. Tycoon-Miller was the closest relative and thus successor to title and estate. He was there to inform him of the heritage and clear the remaining formalities, as well as introduce the couple to their new estate — and unexpected roots.

Mr. Tycoon-Miller had not made a minor fortune by believing anything he was told without raising a question. He thus sneered rather aggressively at Sir William but was held back by his wife and the surprising fact that their guest appeared neither to have desire for any money in association with their new luck, nor did he appear to have any haste in forwarding the remaining details. In fact, as the lawyer suggested they visit Balmore House by the end of the coming week, it was Mrs. Tycoon-Miller who urged that they should do so the same day, a demand which her husband pressed through with accustomed business ability, as they were only supposed to stay for one week in Great Britain in all. Although he had to make some changes in his schedule, Sir William promised to return at 1 p.m. and carry along the couple in his car directly to Balmore House, about 90 miles from London.

It was only little more than 3 hours but still appeared unbearably long to the couple. It was not up to their style that they should have to wait for Sir William's car in front of the hotel, but it was in full accordance with their expectations to see Sir William arrive in a large chauffeur-driven car, with plenty of space in the back. During their drive out of London, Sir William mentioned that he had sent a courier to Balmore House to take care of the preparations. One might have asked why he did not simply use the telephone, but that would perhaps have been improper to the importance of the occasion. The driver appeared to be a non-human part of the car and astonishingly fast the point was met where no one behind cared about driving, something that had never happened to the Tycoon-Millers. After nearly two hours' drive, during which the distance between houses became increasingly long, the car suddenly halted in front of a huge iron gate. The driver hooted twice and the heavy gate opened automatically, though slowly. Then the car slowly merged through an avenue of high trees. Behind them, the hazy contours of a big building complex were dimly visible. It was possible to drive faster, but they probably needed some time in advance of them. With a turn to the left there was suddenly a view of the huge manor, certainly not just a house, and not only that: nearly 20 employees in various uniforms waited in front, posed in two ranks with an elderly couple in front of them. This was totally unexpected for the American couple. They had seen such scenes on television but never even dreamed that they themselves might be the focus of such attention.

Just like in the film version, the man in front was the butler and the woman the housekeeper. Sir William introduced the couple as the 11th Earl of Balmore and his precious wife, then the butler, James, the housekeeper, Miss Edith, and the remaining staff with their function and first names. It was impossible to keep any of these in mind. Lord Tycoon-Miller straightened his back and kept unusually silent, but still tried to behave as though this was an everyday occurrence for him. His wife could not avoid meeting the eyes of some of the young female employees, who seemed to express a sort of admiration. It would be a hard job to keep her husband away from these girls in the future.

The impressive ceremony ended in less than 10 minutes. There was not enough time to show all the house before the obligatory five-o'clock tea (the new Earl thought about changing this later to American coffee of similar density and served somewhat earlier), but the living quarters in the south wing were briefly introduced. The winter garden beneath the south wing was the place to ingest the afternoon tea (to be used for nothing but that). It overlooked a garden of peculiarly cut bushes and, farther away, a huge lawn ending somewhere in the forest.

No, the golf area is on the other side, said Sir William, correcting Mr. Tycoon-Miller's assumption. This is an excellent place to let the horses run. By the way, after tea Your Lordship should have a quick look at the stables while the Lady, if she desires to do so today already, can have a look at the ballroom and the living rooms — no, not saloons. Then it will already be time to change for dinner, but before I leave, I need confirmation that you accept the title and all the inheritance associated with it.

But we have all our belongings in the hotel and even so, we did not bring any evening dress from Boston to here, argued Mrs. Tycoon-Miller.

Wait till you see your dressing-room, you will need nothing else, answered Sir William.

Mr. Tycoon-Miller had finally gathered himself from the paralysis which had seized him and delivered a short speech: Dear Sir William! This morning we talked about going to a party, which I managed to call off after you left our hotel room. It is still hardly possible to understand the situation which we have suddenly been thrust into. Would it be possible for you to stay to dinner, so-to-say as our guest, and then, since it will be late, to stay somewhere in this huge mansion for the night?

I shall gladly accept the invitation, said the lawyer and snapped his fingers. The butler appeared from nowhere. James, can I sleep in the room in the east wing where I used to when I stayed here for the night? Of course, the answer was positive. I used to be a close friend of the house, Sir William added, in case someone should not have understood. The driver would then leave around dinner-time in order to bring the signed papers to the office in London, in time to bring the new nobility into their rights the following day.

The Americans knew that the English nobility spent a considerable part of their lives in dressing rooms, and it would be a bad habit to change that on the first day. Besides, the 11th Earl of Balmore caught a brief view of one of the long-legged servant maids whom he had noticed during the welcome ceremony, but she was gone before he could call her. Apparently, she had placed a dinner jacket of exactly his size on his bed. Now he realized that his bedroom was separate from that of his wife, and he thought again of the long-legged girl. Well, this was just the beginning.

Just before dinner, the honourable couple met in a salon adjacent to the dining room. They exchanged their experiences with a frequent use of superlatives (except the girl was not mentioned, but that was just a glance and some thoughts), then decided that it was finally time for the 5th cigarette of the day (and the first since leaving the hotel, at a time when other days would have seen the ashes of 30 or more). Sir William arrived with a bunch of papers and laid it in front of Lord Tycoon-Balmore, as his name should later be changed to. Dinner would be served at half past seven, i.e. in five minutes, and there were at least 20 papers to read. The new earl looked desperately at his wife, he never signed anything fast, but she nodded, overwhelmed by the day's impressions. Sir William made it easier: The first paper is the acceptance of the title, the second an application to the House of Lords, to be effectuated only after the Citizenship of Great Britain has been granted — you may leave that out now if you care, — and the third paper the acceptance of the heritage. All the remaining papers specify the content of the heritage, the manor and all its property, the cars and horses, and so on.

The Lady suddenly asked if the former Earl of Balmore, once a real Briton, had appeared on the rank of order to the throne. Learning that the late Earl, when he died, had reached position 137 on that very list, she commanded: Sign them all, Bob! He did not do it because she said so, but because he was similarly convinced, and they all went on time to dinner.

Fortunately, a number of biscuits had disappeared with the afternoon tea, taking the edge from the host couple's appetite, because the dishes being served were rather small and mostly swallowed before James, who brought them the last feet to the table, had reached his starting position. Lady Tycoon-Balmore was somewhat shocked to learn that the kitchen of the manor did not possess a single microwave oven and was furthermore situated 2 floors below the dining room, although connected with the adjacent preparation room by a transport escalator. Sir William was most interested in the wine and cautiously tested the host's oenological knowledge. Apparently, he did not know about deuxieme cru; neither about the municipality of Saint-Julien or the vintage served; not even about Medoc. Sir William stopped talking about wine and drank it a bit faster while Lord Robert Tycoon-Balmore claimed that he evaluated the wine only according to its price, and he was somewhat disturbed that there was no price label on the bottle but instead an ugly abundance of dust — who was responsible for cleaning the wine cellar? But even if the bottles were old and dirty, the wine increased the pleasant mood of the company, and the small dishes continued to arrive and apparently could saturate, if only by their number.

The only crisis during the dinner was the vain attempt of the hosts to smoke cigarettes in their own dining room. James said there had never been any ashtray here and there was no tradition for it, but if his Lordship would please follow him to the smoking room ... Lord Robert already had the cigarette in his hand while his wife had grasped for her bag. Should this be the first occasion to demonstrate to the old butler who was now the master in this house? He sent a glance to Sir William, who did not meet his eye but studied the first wine bottle which had been empty for some time now. This was presumably a demonstration that he did not want any struggle on this subject; perhaps it also indicated some incompatibility between the wine and cigarettes, as some snobbish people had claimed on earlier occasions. Lord Robert rescued the situation by saying to his wife: Dear, wouldn't you like to see the smoking room, too?

Upon their return, the endless wandering of small dishes through the house had finally ceased. Sir William was engaged in a cheese selection while sipping a straw-yellow French wine, sweet enough to find acknowledgement from the hosts, who saved it for the ice cream. For that, they rejected the offered coffee upon learning that it was not decaffeinated. That, however, should hardly have influenced their sleep, since the walk from the smoking salon had revealed how much wine they had indeed let pass in their glasses.

It was only half past 10 p.m., but their general condition called for a bed. Suddenly the Lady noticed that in Boston it was half past four and thus a good time to call her mother to tell her the unbelievable news. She was nearly exploding from the fact that she so far had told no one about the happy change in their life. I am sorry, Milady, answered James, but it is impossible to use the telephone now.

Why not? asked Lord Robert, somewhat disturbed.

Because the telephone bill has not been paid, replied the butler. Here was a task to be taken care of right in the morning. But this day had been so beautiful that such a minor obstacle should not be allowed to disturb it. The Earl of Balmore had enough sense to remember the remaining 17 pages of the content of the heritage. Then the hosts were gently escorted to each of their south wing bedrooms which they, even by daylight and before drinking wine, would not have found by themselves.

Lord Robert lay down on the large, though far too soft bed and dreamt about fox hunting. In his native Arizona, he had been one of the best riders, and this was a sport in which he would certainly make a good figure. This room was as hot as Phoenix in summer, while outside it had started to snow. How did the Britons kill their foxes? Never mind, he was also good with a gun and would use what seemed appropriate. He was nearly asleep and drifting into pleasant dreams when a female hand suddenly touched his neck. Wow, here was really everything included — though, it was not the maid he had at first suspected it would be, but instead his wife who had found a door between their dressing rooms. Nobility does not oblige sleeping separately, were her only words and both slept indeed very fast.

Robert F. Tycoon-Miller, or whatever his name now was, woke up rather uneasily around 5.30 a.m. The room was now cold with condensed water on the inner side of the singular glass windows. Now he remembered that the islanders heat heavily in the evening and let the fire extinguish sometime in the night. Several firms had gone broke while trying to introduce continental principles for heat maintenance instead of respecting the local tradition. However, it was neither the cold, nor his aching back that made him wake up prematurely. It was an uneasy feeling about a small detail that did not fit into the pattern: The telephone bill had not been paid!

Having fought with himself for a while, one part of his person wanting to continue sleeping, the other wrestling in doubt, the latter part finally won and he went to the papers containing a description of the heritage. The first part was not bad, listing the value of the house, the horses, the collection of cars (so far he had not seen one of them), the size of the agricultural property and so on. Quite a lot of millions of pounds. It was 6 months old and it was stated somewhere that it was made on the occasion of the death of the old Earl Rudolph, who had left no children. It even contained official stamps and seals, as he had noticed already yesterday.

But then appeared a list of the debts, again in millions, and it ended with the monthly expenses, including the immense staff of the house and the employees he had not seen yesterday while they were occupied on the agricultural part of the establishment — anyhow not a place for an industrial magnate to get rich. And it appeared that since the death of the old Earl, only part of the expenses had been paid, thus raising the debt considerably above the stated value. Lord Robert slowly merged back into the shape of Bob Tycoon-Miller, though not the old self-confident American he had been the previous morning. He sat with a worried face, staring from time to time out of the window and finally, a little after 6 a.m., woke up his wife.

Let us not go into detail about their discussion in the following hour. How to discuss, when their property and monthly income contributed only a small part of what the heritage showed up in debit? Still, it took some time to reach the inevitable conclusion: get rid of this burden as fast as possible, even at a certain price.

Mrs. Tycoon-Miller, as she again preferred to be called, went back to her rooms and started dressing, no less urgently than yesterday. Her husband needed less than 10 minutes for this procedure, remembering to shave but ignoring his teeth. Along his door, a long woven strap went up to the ceiling, connected mechanically to something above the bedroom. He pulled it but no peculiar sound was produced, to betray whether it had possibly been heard. Nevertheless, it must have been, since a few minutes later the butler knocked at the door, then entered with the question: Does your Lordship wish to enjoy breakfast in the Morning Room now?

The word enjoy seemed improper, but why start the battle on an empty stomach? The caller decided at least to enjoy breakfast in the old style. Anyhow, he did not expect to meet Sir William that early. Together with his wife, he was led a long way downstairs and again upstairs to the Morning Room in the Eastern Wing, the part of the house where Sir William had slept. And see, he was already there and had nearly finished his breakfast. He asked the newcomers to his table and stood up for the Lady.

Before opening his heart, Mr. Tycoon-Miller wanted the butler gone. He ordered coffee for himself, but not too strong, and tea for his wife, but James only went to the door and passed the message to a maid and then returned. The American looked nervously up at him but then decided to do what English aristocrats do and ignore the serving staff.

We have had a close second look at the papers you gave me yesterday, and it was an unpleasant surprise to see the negative balance of this establishment, he blurted out. Sir William looked at him shortly, served himself another cup of tea and then seemed to think — without answering with a word. Now, to come right to the point, I see no possibility to pay it all! He had said everything in only two sentences, now it was up to the lawyer.

As you know, the acceptance of a heritage means acceptance of positives and negatives, Sir William started. His client nodded. There was no point in denying that. I must admit that I had no doubt that you, as President and major stockholder of Tycoon, Inc., would be in a position to meet these obligations, and it would only be a fair enrichment to a person of your standings. As you know, it took quite a while to find the right heir to this land, and then by coincidence you were just visiting England as I called your office in Boston. Now he mentioned it, there had been a strange call referred from his office, from some British aristocrat who refused to tell what it was about, but insisted it was urgent — nevertheless, Mr. Tycoon-Miller currently felt no need of any enrichment to his person.

I am sorry for the trouble I may have caused you by my premature decision to take over the heritage yesterday, but after discussing matters with my wife, we have decided not to accept the offered heritage, he said, and then added, less loud and obviously in distress, in spite of my signature yesterday.

I nearly forgot, exclaimed Sir William, they are on their way for notarial act. My driver will be there at 8 a.m. and return here at noon, according to my instructions.

But it is not quite 8, can't we call ... oh no, the telephone, realized Mrs. Tycoon-Miller herself. But then you may send one of the many cars to the village some 10 miles away and make a call from there.

James, can you make a car ready immediately? Sir William asked.

I am sorry, Sir, there is not a single drop of petrol left in any of them! was the immediate answer.

Sir William had at least taken what he needed for breakfast before the couple arrived, because there was not much joy left for that morning. As it turned out, it would cost £ 40.000 to get the notarial signature cancelled and another 10.000 for being the Earl of Balmore for a day. While Mr. Tycoon-Miller, with his wife's approval, prepared a cheque for £ 50.000, Sir William drew up a receipt, claiming that he would cancel all obligations on behalf of the heritage.

Soon thereafter, the couple left Balmore House through a small side gate, with instructions how to reach the village station by foot. Although they could not see anything, they had a feeling of being watched from each of the windows in the big manor. After half an hour's walk and with probably only a quarter of the distance behind them, they were happy to receive a lift from a truck driver, the first time they sat inside such a vehicle. Luckily, they did not need to wait long before the train for London arrived.

Anyhow, quite an experience, Lord Bob, said Mrs. Tycoon-Miller with a smile, "I would not want to have missed it, in spite of all