Not a proper post, just a listing of some place-names:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the sequence of interactions between the Professor and the Lord Lieutenant:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Professor had found the Lord Lieutenant out of bed. The latter happened to be the Master of the Malplaquet Hounds, the one with the electric bell-indicator which Maria had coveted for Gull Island, and he had evidently been having a Hunt Ball or a Farmers Dinner, for he was dressed in a scarlet tail coat with violet facings, and was wearing the buttons of the Hunt, awarded only For Valor. He had changed into mauve carpet slippers with his monogram worked in gold.<\/p>
He was a tall man with an anxious expression, and he had a walrus mustache which he had to lift with one finger, when he wanted to eat.<\/p>
He took the Professor into the Dining Room, and gave him a glass of port, while the latter told his story.<\/p>
The Dining Room had a polished mahogany table with a sideboard to match, and fourteen chairs ranged round the walls, where the servants had to say their prayers every morning. The wallpaper was dark red and there were oil paintings on the walls. There was a picture of the Lord Lieutenant on a Borzoi-looking horse, by Lionel Edwards, with a lot of hounds wandering about among its legs. There was one of the Lady Lieutenant, on a roly-poly one, by Munnings, and another of some of the little Lieutenants, on anatomical ones, by Stewart. There was a baby Lieutenant, on a rocking horse, and several generations of Grandpa Lieutenants, on mounts called Mazeppa, Eclipse, or the Arab Steed. Some of the pictures were of mares and stallions by themselves, and these included honest creatures by Romney, fiery creatures by Delacroix, sagacious creatures by Landseer, and dotty animals with distended nostrils by anonymous eighteenth-century artists. The only person not on a horse was the Hon. Lettuce Lieutenant, the eldest daughter, who had made the mistake of being done by Augustus John. He had left it out on purpose, out of spite.<\/p>
The Lord Lieutenant said: \u201cBut I say, I mean to say, do you mean to say, old boy, that this vicar of yours and that charmin\u2019 Miss What\u2019s-her-name have been maltreatin\u2019 the gel in the what-do-you-may-call-it?\u201d<\/p>
\u201cI have been trying to tell you …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cBut, good Lord, my dear chap, you can\u2019t do that sort of thing in the nineteenth century, or the twentieth, or whatever it is. I mean, you take the first two figures, and add one, or subtract one, I forgot which, for reasons I never could fathom, possibly owin\u2019 to these X\u2019s which those chaps are always writin\u2019 on monuments, and then it is different. Now, take horses …\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
The Lord Lieutenant poured himself a glass of port, inserted it neatly under his mustache, and eyed the Professor warily across a silver horse full of walnuts.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere you are, you see. All hearsay. Now, take horses. You are always meetin\u2019 chaps who say they know of a horse that trotted thirty miles an hour, but when you ask them was it their horse, they say it was some other chap\u2019s horse, and there you are. Now …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cGood heavens …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cHere, have a cigar. We keep them in this filly here, for parties. Look, you just press her tail down, like this, and the cigar comes out of her mouth, like that, oh, I\u2019m sorry, and at the same moment her nostrils burst into flame, so that you can light it. Neat, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>
The cigar shot out of a gold-plated steed, hitting the Professor on the nose, while a musical box inside the creature\u2019s stomach played the last bars of \u201cA-Huntin\u2019 We Will Go.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cI came to ask …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cMy dear old boy, look here, be advised by me. You drop the whole thing. You\u2019ve got it muddled up. Perfectly natural, of course; no criticism intended. Anybody could get muddled on a thing like that, I should have done myself. But when you\u2019ve been a Lord Lieutenant as long as I have, or a Chief Constable, or whatever I am, you\u2019ll know that the first thing a Lord Lieutenant has to get hold of is a motive. Can\u2019t have a crime without it. I assure you, it\u2019s an absolute fact. First thing a criminal must do is get a motive. It\u2019s in a book I read. Printed. Now what motive could Miss What-you-may-call-it possibly have for wanting to hand-cuff young Thingummy in the what\u2019s-it?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhereabouts, eh? Gypsies, I daresay. Wonderful chaps with horses. Now …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cNot roundabouts!\u201d shouted the Professor. \u201cWhereabouts …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cHere, have some coffee. We keep it in this copper horse here, with the methylated lamp under its tummy. You just twist his near fore, like this, and it pours out of his ear, like that, oh, I\u2019m sorry, and the sugar is strewed about in this silver-plated stable here, to represent bedding. Pretty, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>
The Professor mopped the coffee off his knees despairingly, while the coffeepot played \u201cJohn Peel.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cI have a right as a citizen of this country to ask for police protection, and it is your duty, as the Lord Lieutenant, to investigate the grounds …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cGood Lord, old boy, you can\u2019t have police protection here. What\u2019s the good of sending old Dumbledum to protect you? Besides, I happen to know he has a lumbago. His wife sent up to borrow a smoothing iron only this evening. And who, may I ask, would stop all the motor cars, and take their licenses and that, if Dumbledum was protecting you all the time?\u201d<\/p>
\u201cDumbledum …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cHere, have a chocolate. We keep them in this china hunter here, for convenience. You just lift its tail, like this, and the chocolate comes out there, like that, oh, I\u2019m sorry, and he plays the \u2018Meynell Hunt,\u2019 only some of the notes are missing. Useful, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>
The Professor fished the chocolate out of his coffee with fury.<\/p>
\u201cAnd another thing, old boy. What about witnesses? That\u2019s one of the first things you have to have in a crime, believe me, as a Lord Lieutenant\u2014unless you go in for circumstantial evidence, as we call it, or whatever they call it. Witnesses! It\u2019s vital. You can\u2019t do anything, hardly, without them. Look at that fellow who blew the other fellow up, unless it was himself, in the garage, or the swimmin\u2019 bath, or whatever it was, only the other day. He had dozens of witnesses. Blew them all up as well. You see? I mean, you could almost say that you can\u2019t do a crime without \u2019em. And where are yours, do you suppose?\u201d<\/p>
\u201cI have a witness, Mrs. Noakes.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cAnd who is Mrs. Noakes, when she\u2019s at home?\u201d<\/p>
\u201cMrs. Noakes is the cook at Malplaquet.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cGood Lord, not Mrs. Noakes! Mrs. Noakes is Mrs. Noakes? Why, I know Mrs. Noakes as well as me own mother. That\u2019s an extraordinary thing, I must say, I mean that she should be her! Well, I remember her quails in aspic, in the old Duke\u2019s day, poor fellow, yes, and her oyster souffl\u00e9. An invaluable woman. Often we tried to get her to come over to us, but she preferred to stay. Family feelin\u2019. Now, take horses …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cNot horses!\u201d<\/p>
\u201cWell, hounds then.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cNot hounds!\u201d<\/p>
\u201cYes, hounds. Take hounds. A hound will eat almost anything.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
“Here, have a cigarette. We keep them in this platinum polo pony here, for sentimental reasons. It\u2019s an old pony of my own, poor chap. Dead, of course. Must have been dead about forty years by now. You just lift up the polo stick, like this, and he opens his mouth, like that, and out comes a cigarette, oh, I\u2019m sorry, use a napkin, and, as you see, he plays \u2018Old Faithful.\u2019 Sad, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>
The platinum pony had shot out a stream of about fifty cigarettes, knocking over the coffee and the port into the Professor\u2019s lap.<\/p>
He leaped to his feet, banged the table, and shouted wildly: \u201cI demand a hearing! I refuse to be pelted with these articles!\u201d<\/p>
Then he folded his arms and sat down on a comic cushion, which began to play \u201cBoot, Saddle, to Horse, and Away.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cGood Lord, old boy, what are you sitting on that for? You aren\u2019t supposed to sit on that. It\u2019s supposed to be a sort of trick, to catch people …\u201d<\/p>
The Professor hurled the cushion on the floor, which made it play again, swept several horses out of the way, and shook his fist under the Lord Lieutenant\u2019s nose.<\/p>
\u201cNo good browbeatin\u2019 me, old boy. Everybody always browbeats Lord Lieutenants. Doesn\u2019t do a bit of good. To tell you the bitter truth, I simply don\u2019t believe a word you say. Tryin\u2019 to pull me leg. Won\u2019t work. Now, if Mrs. Noakes was to tell me all this about dungeons and things, I\u2019d believe her like a shot. I\u2019d believe her if she told me that a mince pie was a ham omelet. But when a chap like you comes along, jabberin\u2019 about roundabouts …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cBut I tell you that Mrs. Noakes will corroborate what I say …\u201d<\/p>
\u201cProduce her, then. Produce your witness. That\u2019s what we say, in the Law, you know. Produce your witness.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cHow can I produce her when she\u2019s an old woman with a bad leg five miles away in the middle of the night?\u201d<\/p>
\u201cThere you are, you see. As soon as we get down to brass tacks, you always say it can\u2019t be done. Like trottin\u2019 at thirty miles an hour. I say I\u2019ll believe Mrs. Noakes, you say you can\u2019t produce her. I say I don\u2019t believe you, you start chuckin\u2019 cushions about. Now, take horses …\u201d<\/p>
The Professor clutched his whiskers.<\/p>
\u201cTake horses. You can always believe a horse. I always say to everybody, Give me a horse, and I\u2019ll believe it. If a horse says there is wire in that gap, believe me, my boy, there is wire in it. Or take hounds. I always say to everybody, Give me a hound, and I\u2019ll believe it. If a hound says there is a fox in that gooseberry bush, or in that hatbox, or wherever it is, believe me, my boy, there is a fox in it. Always believe a horse or a hound.\u201d<\/p>
The Professor had sunk back in his chair, pulling his hair out in tufts, when there was a gentle scratching on the door.<\/p>
\u201cThat\u2019s one of the hounds,\u201d said the Lord Lieutenant happily. \u201cLet him in, there\u2019s a good fellow. I suppose I must have fourteen or fifteen of them round about the house, in various places. They sit under all those chairs at dinner and wait for biscuits, like dear old Lord Lonsdale. Always believe …\u201d<\/p>
A footman, however, opened the door, and announced deferentially: \u201cA strange dog, me Lord.\u201d<\/p>
Captain was standing politely on the mat, with a shopping basket in his mouth. When he saw the Professor, he wagged his tail and came in.<\/p>
The Professor read the letter in the basket and passed it to the Lord Lieutenant.<\/p>
\u201cRead for yourself.\u201d<\/p>
\u201cDear me, a letter from the dog. Interesting, very.\u201d<\/p>
He produced an eyeglass from his waistcoat pocket, disentangled the ribbon from his mustache, fixed it in his eye, and began to spell the letter out.<\/p>
\u201c \u2018Kind sir come back at onct …\u2019 Bad spelling, that. Should be an S in it. However, you can\u2019t expect good spelling from a dog. It\u2019s not their nature. \u2018… as them as what you knows of sir is up to triks again, namely that here Vicar and his fly by nite\u2019\u2014Good Lord, that will be Miss What\u2019s-her-name, just like you said\u2014\u2018and have gorn off\u2019\u2014good heavens\u2014\u2018gorn off to cut Maria\u2019s throat\u2019! Poor child, poor child, good gracious, this is shockin\u2019! \u2018So please to come at onct\u2019\u2014I should think so, too\u2014\u2018as If not it may be two late and Tell His Lordship\u2019\u2014that will be me, I expect\u2014\u2018to bring the Army\u2019! My stars, thank heaven the hound has come in time! Always believe a hound! How clever of him to write it. Must have learned it in a circus or somewhere. Bring the Army, he says. Yes, of course. The Army. Fancy cutting a child\u2019s throat like that! Well, we must act. Action. Let me see. Where\u2019s Kingdom? Somebody fetch me Kingdom. Oh, there you are, Kingdom. Here, Kingdom, get me some people on the telephone. Get me the Army and the Navy and the Air Force and the Fire Brigade and the Home Guard and the Rural District Council and the St. John\u2019s Ambulance Association. Get me. Here, get me the telephone. I\u2019ll do it meself.\u201d<\/p>
The butler carried in a telephone in the form of a plastic Derby winner, and the Lord Lieutenant began to shout commands into its mouth, occasionally applying its tail to his ear.<\/p>
\u201cIs that the Exchange? Where is the Exchange? Why not? Well then, why didn\u2019t you say so? Get me Mr. Winston Churchill. Certainly I said Mr. Winston Churchill. Give him to me at once. Who the deuce are you, Sir? I tell you I\u2019m the Lord Lieutenant. No, I\u2019m not. Yes, you are. An imposter? So are you. That settled him. What? My good man, what\u2019s the use of Mr. Attlee? Get me Mr. Churchill, like I said.\u201d<\/p>
Well, they dissuaded him from recalling Mr. Churchill at last. After that, he wanted to have General Eisenhower, Field Marshal Montgomery or Scotland Yard. The Professor cunningly went aside and wrote a message, which he persuaded Captain to deliver, saying that though the Far Eastern Battle Fleet might be very useful, yet they themselves, being on the spot, would be sure to get there sooner. The Lord Lieutenant was delighted by this second example of canine sagacity, and agreed to send at once for P. C. Dumbledum. The posse was collected without further argument.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Not a proper post, just a listing of some place-names: Biggle Bishop\u2019s Boozey Bumley-Beausnort Duke\u2019s Doddery Dumbledum-Meanly Dunamany Wenches Gloomleigh Idiot\u2019s Utterly High Hiccough Maid\u2019s Malplaquet Malplaquet-in-the-Mould Malplaquet Middling Malplaquet St. Swithin\u2019s Mome Monk\u2019s-Unmentionable-cum-Mumble Ort And the sequence of interactions between the Professor and the Lord Lieutenant: The Professor had found the Lord Lieutenant out […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2500","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2500"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2502,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500\/revisions\/2502"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2500"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2500"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.salticid.com\/bookblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2500"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}