Telfer was clutching ibg a piece of paper, the email. He had printed it off the school computers at Princeton. Telfer looked at the small castle ahead of him.  "Huh," he said in his deep british accent, "This is the kind of place you see on crappy courtroom drama. He walked over to the door, praying this was no prank. "I wonder about the credibility of our host," he said loudly at the doors. "After all this may be a trick of a criminal. Like perjury via email. But whar would any of you know about that?" He fingered his tweed blazer in wait. "So, you guys have got little buggers in the back of your head to, huh?" He asked the rest of them.