"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. You are not going anywhere but to the Tredgold College. Gentlemen, I am proud to say that I originated—that I directed those measures. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him.
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