after the other, left me very jangled in my nerves, and I could see from my companion's petulant manner that his own patience had got to a low ebb.
But our good humour was restored when we saw Lord John Roxton waiting for us upon the platform, his tall, thin figure clad in a yellow tweed shooting-suit. His keen face, with those unforgettable eyes, so fierce and yet so humorous, flushed with pleasure at the sight of us. His ruddy hair was shot with grey, and the furrows upon his brow had been cut a little deeper by Time's chisel, but in all else he was the Lord John who had been our good comrade in the past.
"Hullo, Herr Professor! Hullo, young fellah!" he shouted as he came towards us.
He roared with amusement when he saw the oxygen cylinders upon the porter's trolly behind us.
"So you've got them, too!" he cried. "Mine is in the van. Whatever can the old dear be after?"
