The Case of the Wayward Professor by Gareth P. Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

arrested because of him in the first place,’ protested the fat man.
    â€˜Ah, look yonder, this must be the chap,’ said Arthur, noticing Professor Rosenfield standing outside the station scratching his head.
    Arthur walked towards him and extended a hand. ‘Professor Rosenfield, I presume,’ he said, grinning.
    â€˜Er, yes,’ replied the professor, shaking Arthur’s hand uncertainly.
    â€˜My name is Arthur and this big-boned gentleman is my colleague, Reg. We are here to provide vehicular transportation to your destination.’
    Professor Rosenfield looked vaguely at the two men.
    â€˜We’re the wheels,’ added Reg. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t understand half of what he’s on about neither. The trick is not to get too bogged down in listening to the words.’
    â€˜I’m sure the professor understands me perfectly adequately,’ said Arthur. ‘He too is a man of learning.’ He turned to Rosenfield, opened the back door of the car and said, ‘Worry not, Reg has very little in the way of grey matter but he is fully familiarised in the ways of motorised wheel control.’
    The professor looked at the crooks as though they had just landed from a different planet. ‘Er … Are you sure it’s me you’re here to pick up?’
    â€˜I suppose there is a possibility that we have been sent to collect a different man with the same name asyou from this exact spot, yes, but you would have to admit that it would be a staggering coincidence,’ replied Arthur.
    â€˜Well, yes, I suppose so,’ admitted the professor. ‘In you go, then. ‘Arthur helped the professor into the back. ‘Look at that, we’re already discussing probability,’ he said. ‘It is nice to have civilised company for a change.’
    â€˜I know about probability,’ said Reg. ‘It’s gamblin’, ain’t it?’
    â€˜You see what I have to put up with,’ sighed Arthur.
    The two men took their seats in the front and drove away.
    Dirk followed, firstly using the roofs of the houses, then, when they reached the edge of town, flying low behind the hedgerows, keeping his wings out of sight from the road, but also watching out for any farmers who might see him. He skirted the edge of a field of cows that mooed fearfully at him and retreated to the other side of the field.
    The road ran alongside a large lake and Dirk skimmed across the surface, dipping his claws in and causing water to spray up. He had forgotten how much fun proper flying could be. Maybe it was good to get out of London, after all.
    The car took a road that cut through a dense forest over a small hill. Dirk flew over the trees, keeping the car in sight. At the base of the hill it turned on to a smaller dirt track that led deeper into the forest. At the end of the track was a rundown old cottage with black-and-white walls. The car stopped outside and all three men got out.
    Dirk swooped down and ducked behind the low stone wall that surrounded the cottage.
    â€˜Well, Professor Rosenfield,’ said Arthur, opening the professor’s door. ‘It has been a pleasure. As you can imagine, working mostly with Reg I am generally starved of intellectual discourse. Except on the subject of light ales from around the world, Reg has very little in the way of knowledge.’
    The professor climbed out of the car, holding the silver case with both arms.
    â€˜Who did you say you worked for?’ he asked.
    â€˜Sadly, we are not at liberty to divulge that particular piece of information, are we, Reg?’
    â€˜What? About working for Mr G? No, can’t say a word,’ replied Reg.
    Arthur raised a hand and casually whacked Reg on the back of his head.
    â€˜Ow, what d’you do that for?’
    â€˜I must apologise for my colleague,’ Arthur said to the professor. ‘He is as foolish as he is fat.’
    â€˜But who is Mr G?’ asked the