The Avenger
The Black Sailor stood in the middle of the path, leaning on his bicycle and looking at Dr. Priestley with a faint smile of amusement in his eyes. The Professor, for his part, stood his ground and waited for what might come next. He understood quite well that any attempt to escape would be pure folly. If it came to a chase across the heather, the sailor would overtake him in half a dozen strides. And as for shouting for help—well, the nearest inhabited house was nearly two miles away.
Besides, what was there to shout about, after all? The sailor appeared to be unarmed, and his expression was rather one of amusement than of menace. The absurdity of the situation began to appeal to the Professor. He had been accosted by the man whom the police would have dearly loved to lay their hands upon, and he was utterly powerless to take any steps towards his capture.