TheSevenDialsMystery

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Contents

TitlePage

Introduction

1OnEarlyRising

2ConcerningAlarumClocks

3TheJokethatFailed

4ALetter

5TheManintheRoad

6SevenDialsAgain

7BundlePaysaCall

8VisitorsforJimmy

9Plans

10BundleVisitsScotlandYard

11DinnerwithBill

12InquiriesatChimneys

13TheSevenDialsClub

14TheMeetingoftheSevenDials

15TheInquest

16TheHousePartyattheAbbey

17AfterDinner

18Jimmy’sAdventures

19Bundle’sAdventures

20Loraine’sAdventures

21TheRecoveryoftheFormula

22TheCountessRadzky’sStory

23SuperintendentBattleinCharge

24BundleWonders

25JimmyLayshisPlans

26MainlyaboutGolf

27NocturnalAdventure

28Suspicions

29SingularBehaviourofGeorgeLomax

30AnUrgentSummons

31TheSevenDials

32BundleisDumbfounded

33BattleExplains

34LordCaterhamApproves

AbouttheAuthor

TheAgathaChristieCollection

RelatedProducts

Copyright

AboutthePublisherOceanofPDF.com

IntroductionbyValMcDermid

ThingsthateverybodyknowsaboutAgathaChristie:sheproducedalotofbooks that still outsell the competition; she was the greatest plotter of theclassic detective story; she did a vanishing act and turned up amnesiac inHarrogate, identified by the banjo player in the hotel band; she wrote thelongest-running play in theatrical history,TheMousetrap; and she couldn’twritethrillers.

SowhyamIsuggestingthatanyonewouldwanttoreadTheSevenDialsMystery?After all, it has all the ingredients of the classic1920s thriller, asexemplifiedby;A.E.W.Mason,SapperandJohnBuchan.Secretplans,evilforeigners, marvellous cars with running boards and powerful engines, thejoint threats ofGermany andCommunistRussia, house parties, youngmenwandering roundwith loaded revolvers and plucky youngwomen—they’realltherebythebucketload.

Oh,andlet’snotforgetthesecretsocietythatmeetsbehindcloseddoors,whosemembersaremaskedsonoteventheyknowwhotheothermembersare. Bulldog Drummond and Richard Hannay territory, surely? Which weknowthatChristiecan’tdo.Right?

Wrong.BecauseTheSevenDialsMysteryisn’tathriller.It’sapasticheofa thriller, anantidote to thegung-hochest-beatingof theboys. It’swry, it’sgot its tongueplanted firmly in its cheekand it subverts thewholegenre itappearstobepartof,notleastbecauseaswellasallofthis, italsodeliverscleverly dovetailed plottingwith a typicalChristie flourish at the end. “Ahyes,” we sigh. “Fooled again.” If one of our Young Turks did somethingsimilar with the thriller now, we’d all nod sagely and go, “how verypostmodern,howveryself-referentialandknowing,howverymetafictional.”

Butthatwasthenandthisisnow.SoChristiegetsnocreditforpokinghertongueoutatthebigboyswhosettheagendaforwhatathrillershouldbe.Imean, how can a nice middle-class wife and mother be considered asubversive? How embarrassing would that be for the leather-jacketed

iconoclasts?

ButthefactremainsthatTheSevenDialsMysteryreallydoesn’tperformasexpected.

Aswellasshowingthatwhenitcametosleightofhand,AgathaChristiejustcouldn’thelpherself,whatTheSevenDialsMysteryrevealsisthesideofitsauthorthateverybodyseemstoforget.(Notsurprisingly,whenyoulookatthosesternjacketphotographs...)Shehadasenseofhumour.Itwasslyandshrewd,andneverfarfromthesurface.

It’s there in the very first Jane Marple mystery in the character ofGriselda, the hopelessly inappropriate wife of the very conservative vicar.AnditcontinuesintheMarplenovelswith,forexample,aseriesofslydigsatMiss Marple’s nephew, the literary novelist Raymond West, whosepretensionsareaconstantsourceofbubble-burstingonChristie’spart.

And it’s there in thePoirotmysteries too.PerhapsChristie’s funniest aswellashermostself-referentialcharacterappearsregularlythere—thecrimewriter Ariadne Oliver. Mrs. Oliver, with her perpetually bursting bags ofapplesandherdisregardforconvention,isclearlyathinlydisguisedversionofChristieherself.

Where Christie has her Belgian detective whom she came to dislikeintensely,Mrs.OliverhasaFinn.Sheisconstantlytobeheardcomplainingbitterlyaboutherfollyincreatingadepressivedetectivefromacountryaboutwhichsheknewnothingandhashad to learnfar toomuch.Shemoans thatherpublisherandherreaderswon’tletherkillhimoffbecausetheylikehimtoomuch.Allofthisisdeliveredinsuchawaythatit’simpossibletoavoidawrysmileatthecharacter’sexpenseandatChristie’stoo.

FromtheveryfirstparagraphofTheSevenDialsMystery,weshouldbeinno doubt thatwe’re in aworld ofWodehousian insouciance.No one couldhavewrittensuchanopening,notevenin1929,withoutbeingconsciousofitsparodicquality.

Thatamiableyouth,JimmyThesiger,cameracingdownthebigstaircaseatChimneys two steps at a time. Soprecipitatewashis descent that hecollidedwithTredwell, the stately butler, just as the latterwas crossingthe hall bearing a fresh supply of hot coffee. Owing to the marvellouspresenceofmindandmasterlyagilityofTredwell,nocasualtyoccurred.

“Sorry,”apologizedJimmy.“Isay,Tredwell,amIthelastdown?”

Substitute BertieWooster for Jimmy Thesiger and Jeeves for Tredwell,and itwouldn’t feel at all out of place. I think it’s safe to say thatChristiewasn’tsettingupincompetitionwithBuchanandSapperwhenshewrotethisnovel.

When critics consider Christie now, they often point to the apparentintoleranceandlackofpoliticalcorrectnessrevealedbyherattitudestoclassand to other races. It’s true that she patronises the lower classes and isextraordinarily offensive about Jews,Germans andRussians, amongothers.Butinthisshereflectedtheattitudesofawomanofherclassandgeneration.Itwouldhavebeenremarkableifshehaddisplayeddifferentattitudes.Evenafeminist icon likeVirginiaWoolf,writingataround thesame time,displaysanunnervinglackofinsightintothelivesanddreamsofthe“servantclasses.”

But that hasn’t stopped people leaping onChristie as an example of allthatisworstabouttheEnglish.She’saccusedofsnobbery,ofinsensitivity,ofracialandclassstereotyping.

Buthowvalidare thesecriticisms?Formyself,I’vealwaysthought thatthetruetestofpeople’sbeliefsliesintheirsenseofhumour.Whattheyfindfunnywilltellyoufarmoreaboutsomeonethantheirseriousprofessionsofbelief.It’softenseemedtomethatthosewemakethebuttsofourjokesarethoseforwhomwenurseourdeepestandmostsecretcontempt.

SowhatdoesChristiemakefunofinthisnovel?

Well, first there is the aristocracy. The egotistical, indolent and almostindigentLordCaterham(atitleabsurdinitself,Caterhambeingtheepitomeof stifling Home Counties suburbia) is drawn with affection, but whereBuchan or Sapper would have shown him as a figure of status, worthy ofrespectandtrust,Christieshowshimasafigureoffunwhoisindulgedbyhisfeisty daughter. He’s a not-too-distant relative of Wodehouse’s LordEmsworth.

Christie teases thenouveauriche justaswickedly.SirOswaldandLadyCooteareperceptivelylampooned,theoneforhisover-reachingambition,theotherforherfailuretoescapeherlowermiddle-classsensibilities.Weseehertreatedwithdisdainbytheservants,whileherhusbandfailstoseehowlittleacceptancehiswealth,histitleandhismaterialsuccesshavebroughthim.

Buttheuppermiddleclassesaregivennomoreleewaythanthearrivistes.The Seven Dials Mystery is peppered with ineffectual Oxbridge ForeignOffice youngmen being rescued by theirwomen. Themen are silly asses,who avoid disastermore by luck and having the right people behind themthanbyfinelyhonedjudgement.

Butmostimportantly,prejudicecomesunderthecosh.Thereareseveralcharacters inTheSevenDialsMystery aboutwhomwe are invited tomakeknee-jerk judgements, from the mysterious East European countess to theapparently reliable but unimaginative ScotlandYard detective. All of thesesnapdecisionswouldfallintolinewiththereceivedbigotryofthetime.

Yetbytheendofthenovel,Christiehasforcedareversalofalmostallofthesepositions.

I’mnotsuggestingthatshewasactuallyasecretradicalwhowasaimingtosubvertthenarrow-mindedintoleranceofhertimeandclass.Thatwouldbepatentlyabsurd,forAgathaChristiewasnorevolutionary.

But she was far less of a hidebound conservative than is generallyassumed. There is clearly more to The Seven Dials Mystery than a facileattempt to turn everything on its head in order to make the “least likelyperson”hypothesiswork.Thereis,Ibelieve,clearevidencethatChristiesawher world with a far clearer and colder eye than those who disparage herunderstand.

The Seven Dials Mystery is the perfect antidote to anyone who hasoverdosedontheclassicEnglishthrillerfrombetweenthewars.Butit’salsoworthreadingforthesheerskillwithwhichChristieplayswithherreaders’expectationsandusesthemtoplaythecleverestofnarrativetrickswithus.

It’sallsleightofhand.AndthequicknessofChristie’shandstillcontinuestodeceiveoureyes,allthoseyearslater.

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One

ONEARLYRISING

Thatamiableyouth,JimmyThesiger,cameracingdownthebigstaircaseatChimneystwostepsatatime.Soprecipitatewashisdescentthathecollidedwith Tredwell, the stately butler, just as the latter was crossing the hallbearing a fresh supply of hot coffee. Owing to themarvellous presence ofmindandmasterlyagilityofTredwell,nocasualtyoccurred.

“Sorry,”apologizedJimmy.“Isay,Tredwell,amIthelastdown?”

“No,sir.Mr.Wadehasnotcomedownyet.”

“Good,”saidJimmy,andenteredthebreakfastroom.

Theroomwasemptysaveforhishostess,andherreproachfulgazegaveJimmythesamefeelingofdiscomforthealwaysexperiencedoncatchingtheeyeofadefunctcodfishexposedonafisherman’sslab.Yet,hangitall,whyshould thewoman look at him like that?To comedownat a punctual ninethirtywhenstayinginacountryhousesimplywasn’tdone.Tobesure,itwasnowaquarterpastelevenwhichwas,perhaps,theoutsidelimit,buteventhen—

“AfraidI’mabitlate,LadyCoote.What?”

“Oh,itdoesn’tmatter,”saidLadyCooteinamelancholyvoice.

Asamatteroffact,peoplebeinglateforbreakfastworriedherverymuch.Forthefirsttenyearsofhermarriedlife,SirOswaldCoote(thenplainMr.)had,toputitbadly,raisedhellifhismorningmealwereevenahalfminutelater than eight o’clock. Lady Coote had been disciplined to regardunpunctualityasadeadlysinofthemostunpardonablenature.Andhabitdieshard.Also,shewasanearnestwoman,andshecouldnothelpaskingherselfwhatpossiblegood theseyoungpeoplewouldeverdo in theworldwithoutearlyrising.AsSirOswaldsooftensaid,toreportersandothers:“Iattributemysuccessentirelytomyhabitsofearlyrising,frugalliving,andmethodical

habits.”

LadyCootewasabig,handsomewomaninatragicsortoffashion.Shehadlarge,mournfuleyesandadeepvoice.Anartistlookingforamodelfor“Rachel mourning for her children” would have hailed Lady Coote withdelight.Shewouldhavedonewell,too,inmelodrama,staggeringthroughthefallingsnowasthedeeplywrongedwifeofthevillain.

Shelookedasthoughshehadsometerriblesecretsorrowinherlife,andyet if the truthbe told,LadyCootehadhadno trouble inher lifewhatever,exceptthemeteoricrisetoprosperityofSirOswald.Asayounggirlshehadbeenajollyflamboyantcreature,verymuchinlovewithOswaldCoote,theaspiringyoungman in thebicycle shopnext toher father’shardware store.They had lived very happily, first in a couple of rooms, and then in a tinyhouse,andtheninalargerhouse,andtheninsuccessivehousesofincreasingmagnitude,butalwayswithinareasonabledistanceof“theWorks,”untilnowSirOswaldhadreachedsuchaneminencethatheand“theWorks”werenolonger interdependent, and it was his pleasure to rent the very largest andmost magnificent mansions available all over England. Chimneys was ahistoricplace,andinrentingitfromtheMarquisofCaterhamfortwoyears,SirOswaldfeltthathehadattainedthetopnotchofhisambition.

LadyCootewasnotnearlysohappyabout it.Shewasa lonelywoman.The principal relaxation of her early married life had been talking to “thegirl”—andevenwhen“thegirl”hadbeenmultipliedby three, conversationwithherdomesticstaffhadstillbeentheprincipaldistractionofLadyCoote’sday. Now, with a pack of housemaids, a butler like an archbishop, severalfootmen of imposing proportions, a bevy of scuttling kitchen and scullerymaids,aterrifyingforeignchefwitha“temperament,”andahousekeeperofimmense proportionswho alternately creaked and rustledwhen shemoved,LadyCootewasasonemaroonedonadesertisland.

Shesighednow,heavily,anddriftedoutthroughtheopenwindow,muchtothereliefofJimmyThesiger,whoatoncehelpedhimselftomorekidneysandbacononthestrengthofit.

LadyCoote stood for a fewmoments tragically on the terrace and thennervedherselftospeaktoMacDonald,theheadgardener,whowassurveyingthe domain overwhich he ruledwith an autocratic eye.MacDonaldwas averychiefandprinceamongheadgardeners.Heknewhisplace—whichwas

torule.Andheruled—despotically.

LadyCooteapproachedhimnervously.

“Goodmorning,MacDonald.”

“Goodmorning,m’lady.”

Hespokeasheadgardenersshouldspeak—mournfully,butwithdignity—likeanemperoratafuneral.

“Iwaswondering—couldwehavesomeof those lategrapes fordesserttonight?”

“They’renofitforpickingyet,”saidMacDonald.

Hespokekindlybutfirmly.

“Oh!”saidLadyCoote.

Shepluckedupcourage.

“Oh! but I was in the end house yesterday, and I tasted one and theyseemedverygood.”

MacDonaldlookedather,andsheblushed.Shewasmadetofeelthatshehad taken an unpardonable liberty. Evidently the late Marchioness ofCaterhamhadnever committed such a solecismas to enter oneof her ownhothousesandhelpherselftograpes.

“Ifyouhadgivenorders,m’lady,abunchshouldhavebeencutandsentintoyou,”saidMacDonaldseverely.

“Oh,thankyou,”saidLadyCoote.“Yes,Iwilldothatanothertime.”

“Butthey’renoproperlyfitforpickingyet.”

“No,” murmured Lady Coote, “no, I suppose not.We’d better leave itthen.”

MacDonald maintained a masterly silence. Lady Coote nerved herselfoncemore.

“Iwasgoing tospeak toyouabout thepieceof lawnat thebackof therosegarden.Iwonderedifitcouldbeusedasabowlinggreen.SirOswaldisveryfondofagameofbowls.”

“Andwhynot?”thoughtLadyCootetoherself.Shehadbeeninstructedin

her history of England. Had not Sir Francis Drake and his knightlycompanions been playing a game of bowlswhen theArmadawas sighted?Surely a gentlemanly pursuit and one to which MacDonald could notreasonably object.But she had reckonedwithout the predominant trait of agood head gardener,which is to oppose any and every suggestionmade tohim.

“Nae doot it could be used for that purpose,” said MacDonaldnoncommittally.

Hethrewadiscouragingflavourintotheremark,butitsrealobjectwastolureLadyCooteontoherdestruction.

“Ifitwasclearedupand—er—cut—and—er—allthatsortofthing,”shewentonhopefully.

“Aye,” said MacDonald slowly. “It could be done. But it would meantakingWilliamfromthelowerborder.”

“Oh!” saidLadyCoote doubtfully.Thewords “lower border” conveyedabsolutelynothingtohermind—exceptavaguesuggestionofaScottishsong—but it was clear that to MacDonald they constituted an insuperableobjection.

“Andthatwouldbeapity,”saidMacDonald.

“Oh, of course,” said Lady Coote. “Itwould.” Andwondered why sheagreedsofervently.

MacDonaldlookedatherveryhard.

“Ofcourse,”hesaid,“ifit’syourorders,m’lady—”

Heleftitlikethat.ButhismenacingtonewastoomuchforLadyCoote.Shecapitulatedatonce.

“Oh,no,”shesaid.“Iseewhatyoumean,MacDonald.N—no—Williamhadbettergetonwiththelowerborder.”

“That’swhatIthochtmeself,m’lady.”

“Yes,”saidLadyCoote.“Yes,certainly.”

“Ithochtyou’dagree,m’lady,”saidMacDonald.

“Oh,certainly,”saidLadyCooteagain.

MacDonaldtouchedhishatandmovedaway.

Lady Coote sighed unhappily and looked after him. Jimmy Thesiger,repletewithkidneysandbacon,steppedoutontotheterracebesideher,andsighedinquiteadifferentmanner.

“Toppingmorning,eh?”heremarked.

“Is it?” said Lady Coote absently. “Oh, yes, I suppose it is. I hadn’tnoticed.”

“Wherearetheothers?Puntingonthelake?”

“Iexpectso.Imean,Ishouldn’twonderiftheywere.”

LadyCoote turned andplunged abruptly into thehouse again.Tredwellwasjustexaminingthecoffeepot.

“Oh,dear,”saidLadyCoote.“Isn’tMr.—Mr.—”

“Wade,m’lady?”

“Yes,Mr.Wade.Isn’thedownyet?”

“No,m’lady.”

“It’sverylate.”

“Yes,m’lady.”

“Oh,dear.Isupposehewillcomedownsometime,Tredwell?”

“Oh, undoubtedly,m’lady. Itwas eleven thirty yesterdaymorningwhenMr.Wadecamedown,m’lady.”

LadyCooteglancedattheclock.Itwasnowtwentyminutestotwelve.Awaveofhumansympathyrushedoverher.

“It’sveryhardluckonyou,Tredwell.Havingtoclearandthengetlunchonthetablebyoneo’clock.”

“Iamaccustomedtothewaysofyounggentlemen,m’lady.”

The reproof was dignified, but unmistakable. So might a prince of theChurch reprove a Turk or an infidel who had unwittingly committed asolecisminallgoodfaith.

Lady Coote blushed for the second time that morning. But a welcomeinterruptionoccurred.Thedooropenedandaserious,spectacledyoungman

puthisheadin.

“Oh,thereyouare,LadyCoote.SirOswaldwasaskingforyou.”

“Oh,I’llgotohimatonce,Mr.Bateman.”

LadyCootehurriedout.

Rupert Bateman, whowas Sir Oswald’s private secretary, went out theother way, through the window where Jimmy Thesiger was still loungingamiably.

“’Morning,Pongo,”saidJimmy.“IsupposeIshallhavetogoandmakemyselfagreeabletothoseblastedgirls.Youcoming?”

Batemanshookhisheadandhurriedalongtheterraceandinatthelibrarywindow. Jimmy grinned pleasantly at his retreating back. He and Batemanhad been at school together, whenBateman had been a serious, spectacledboy,andhadbeennicknamedPongofornoearthlyreasonwhatever.

Pongo,Jimmyreflected,wasverymuchthesamesortofassnowthathehad been then. The words “Life is real, life is earnest” might have beenwrittenspeciallyforhim.

Jimmyyawnedandstrolledslowlydowntothelake.Thegirlswerethere,threeofthem—justtheusualsortofgirls,twowithdark,shingledheadsandonewith a fair, shingledhead.Theone that giggledmostwas (he thought)calledHelen—and therewas another calledNancy—and the thirdonewas,for some reason, addressed as Socks.With themwere his two friends,BillEversleighandRonnyDevereux,whowereemployedinapurelyornamentalcapacityattheForeignOffice.

“Hallo,”saidNancy(orpossiblyHelen).“It’sJimmy.Where’swhat’shisname?”

“Youdon’tmeantosay,”saidBillEversleigh,“thatGerryWade’snotupyet?Somethingoughttobedoneaboutit.”

“If he’s not careful,” said Ronny Devereux, “he’ll miss his breakfastaltogetheroneday—findit’slunchorteainsteadwhenherollsdown.”

“It’sashame,”saidthegirlcalledSocks.“BecauseitworriesLadyCooteso.Shegetsmoreandmorelikeahenthatwantstolayaneggandcan’t.It’stoobad.”

“Let’spullhimoutofbed,”suggestedBill.“Comeon,Jimmy.”

“Oh!let’sbemoresubtlethanthat,”saidthegirlcalledSocks.Subtlewasawordofwhichshewasratherfond.Sheuseditagreatdeal.

“I’mnotsubtle,”saidJimmy.“Idon’tknowhow.”

“Let’s get together and do something about it tomorrow morning,”suggested Ronny vaguely. “You know, get him up at seven. Stagger thehousehold. Tredwell loses his false whiskers and drops the tea urn. LadyCootehashysterics and faints inBill’s arms—Bill being theweight carrier.Sir Oswald says ‘Ha!’ and steel goes up a point and five eighths. Pongoregistersemotionbythrowingdownhisspectaclesandstampingonthem.”

“Youdon’tknowGerry,”saidJimmy.“Idaresayenoughcoldwatermightwake him—judiciously applied, that is. But he’d only turn over and go tosleepagain.”

“Oh! we must think of something more subtle than cold water,” saidSocks.

“Well,what?”askedRonnybluntly.Andnobodyhadanyanswerready.

“Weought tobeable to thinkof something,” saidBill. “Who’sgot anybrains?”

“Pongo,”saidJimmy.“Andhereheis,rushingalonginaharriedmannerasusual.Pongowasalwaystheoneforbrains.It’sbeenhismisfortunefromhisyouthupwards.Let’sturnPongoontoit.”

Mr.Bateman listenedpatiently to a somewhat incoherent statement.Hisattitudewas that of onepoised for flight.Hedeliveredhis solutionwithoutlossoftime.

“I should suggest an alarum clock,” he said briskly. “I always use onemyselfforfearofoversleeping.Ifindthatearlyteabroughtininanoiselessmannerissometimespowerlesstoawakenone.”

Hehurriedaway.

“Analarumclock.”Ronnyshookhishead.“Onealarumclock.ItwouldtakeaboutadozentodisturbGerryWade.”

“Well,whynot?”Billwas flushedandearnest. “I’vegot it.Let’s allgointoMarketBasingandbuyanalarumclockeach.”

Therewaslaughteranddiscussion.BillandRonnywentofftogetholdofcars.Jimmywasdeputedtospyuponthediningroom.Hereturnedrapidly.

“He’shererightenough.Makingupforlosttimeandwolfingdowntoastandmarmalade.Howarewegoingtopreventhimcomingalongwithus?”

ItwasdecidedthatLadyCootemustbeapproachedandinstructedtoholdhiminplay.JimmyandNancyandHelenfulfilledthisduty.LadyCootewasbewilderedandapprehensive.

“A rag? You will be careful, won’t you, my dears? I mean, you won’tsmash the furniture andwreck things or use toomuchwater.We’ve got tohandthishouseovernextweek,youknow.Ishouldn’tlikeLordCaterhamtothink—”

Bill,whohadreturnedfromthegarage,brokeinreassuringly.

“That’s all right,LadyCoote.BundleBrent—LordCaterham’sdaughter—is a great friend ofmine. And there’s nothing she’d stick at—absolutelynothing!Youcan take it fromme.Andanyway there’snotgoing tobeanydamagedone.Thisisquiteaquietaffair.”

“Subtle,”saidthegirlcalledSocks.

Lady Coote went sadly along the terrace just as GeraldWade emergedfrom the breakfast room. JimmyThesigerwas a fair, cherubic youngman,and all that couldbe saidofGeraldWadewas that hewas fairer andmorecherubic,andthathisvacuousexpressionmadeJimmy’sfacequiteintelligentbycontrast.

“’Morning,LadyCoote,”saidGeraldWade.“Wherearealltheothers?”

“They’veallgonetoMarketBasing,”saidLadyCoote.

“Whatfor?”

“Somejoke,”saidLadyCooteinherdeep,melancholyvoice.

“Ratherearlyinthemorningforjokes,”saidMr.Wade.

“It’snotsoveryearlyinthemorning,”saidLadyCootepointedly.

“I’mafraidIwasabitlatecomingdown,”saidMr.Wadewithengagingfrankness.“It’sanextraordinary thing,butwhereverIhappentobestaying,I’malwayslasttobedown.”

“Veryextraordinary,”saidLadyCoote.

“Idon’tknowwhy it is,”saidMr.Wade,meditating.“Ican’t think, I’msure.”

“Whydon’tyoujustgetup?”suggestedLadyCoote.

“Oh!” said Mr. Wade. The simplicity of the solution rather took himaback.

LadyCootewentonearnestly.

“I’veheardSirOswaldsaysomanytimesthatthere’snothingforgettingayoungmanonintheworldlikepunctualhabits.”

“Oh,Iknow,”saidMr.Wade.“AndIhavetowhenI’mintown.Imean,Ihave to be round at the jolly old Foreign Office by eleven o’clock. Youmustn’t think I’m always a slacker, Lady Coote. I say, what awfully jollyflowersyou’vegotdowninthatlowerborder.Ican’trememberthenamesofthem, but we’ve got some at home—those mauve thingummybobs. Mysister’stremendouslykeenongardening.”

LadyCootewasimmediatelydiverted.Herwrongsrankledwithinher.

“Whatkindofgardenersdoyouhave?”

“Oh justone.Rather anold fool, Ibelieve.Doesn’tknowmuch,buthedoeswhathe’stold.Andthat’sagreatthing,isn’tit?”

LadyCoote agreed that itwaswith a depth of feeling in her voice thatwould have been invaluable to her as an emotional actress. They began todiscourseontheiniquitiesofgardeners.

Meanwhile the expedition was doing well. The principal emporium ofMarketBasinghadbeen invadedand the suddendemand foralarumclockswasconsiderablypuzzlingtheproprietor.

“Iwishwe’dgotBundlehere,”murmuredBill.“Youknowher,don’tyou,Jimmy? Oh, you’d like her. She’s a splendid girl—a real good sport—andmarkyou,she’sgotbrainstoo.Youknowher,Ronny?”

Ronnyshookhishead.

“Don’tknowBundle?Wherehaveyoubeenvegetating?She’ssimplyit.”

“Beabitmoresubtle,Bill,”saidSocks.“Stopbletheringaboutyourlady

friendsandgetonwiththebusiness.”

Mr.Murgatroyd,ownerofMurgatroyd’sStores,burstintoeloquence.

“Ifyou’llallowmetoadviseyou,Miss,Ishouldsay—not the7/11one.It’sagoodclock—I’mnotrunningitdown,markyou,butIshouldstronglyadvise this kind at 10/6. Well worth the extra money. Reliability, youunderstand.Ishouldn’tlikeyoutosayafterwards—”

ItwasevidenttoeverybodythatMr.Murgatroydmustbeturnedofflikeatap.

“Wedon’twantareliableclock,saidNancy.

“It’sgottogoforoneday,that’sall,”saidHelen.

“Wedon’twantasubtleone,”saidSocks.“Wewantonewithagoodloudring.”

“Wewant—”beganBill,butwasunable to finish,becauseJimmy,whowasofamechanicalturnofmind,hadatlastgraspedthemechanism.Forthenextfiveminutestheshopwashideouswiththeloudraucousringingofmanyalarumclocks.

Intheendsixexcellentstarterswereselected.

“AndI’lltellyouwhat,”saidRonnyhandsomely,“I’llgetoneforPongo.It was his idea, and it’s a shame that he should be out of it. He shall berepresentedamongthosepresent.”

“That’sright,”saidBill.“AndI’lltakeanextraoneforLadyCoote.Themorethemerrier.Andshe’sdoingsomeofthespadework.ProbablygassingawaytooldGerrynow.”

Indeed at this precise moment Lady Coote was detailing a long storyaboutMacDonaldandaprizepeachandenjoyingherselfverymuch.

The clockswerewrappedup andpaid for.Mr.Murgatroydwatched thecars drive away with a puzzled air. Very spirited the young people of theupper classes nowadays, very spirited indeed, but not at all easy tounderstand.Heturnedwithrelieftoattendtothevicar’swife,whowantedanewkindofdriplessteapot.

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Two

CONCERNINGALARUMCLOCKS

“Nowwhereshallweputthem?”

Dinnerwasover.LadyCootehadbeenoncemoredetailed forduty.SirOswaldhadunexpectedlycometotherescuebysuggestingbridge—notthatsuggestingistherightword.SirOswald,asbecameoneof“OurCaptainsofIndustry”(No7ofSeriesI),merelyexpressedapreferenceandthosearoundhimhastenedtoaccommodatethemselvestothegreatman’swishes.

Rupert Bateman and SirOswaldwere partners against LadyCoote andGerald Wade, which was a very happy arrangement. Sir Oswald playedbridge, like he did everything else, extremely well, and liked a partner tocorrespond.Batemanwasasefficientabridgeplayerashewasa secretary.Both of them confined themselves strictly to the matter in hand, merelyuttering in curt, short barks, “Two no trumps,” “Double,” “Three spades.”LadyCoote andGeraldWadewere amiable and discursive, and the youngmannever failed to sayat theconclusionofeachhand,“I say,partner,youplayed that simply splendidly,” in tones of simple admiration which LadyCoote found both novel and extremely soothing. They also held very goodcards.

The others were supposed to be dancing to the wireless in the bigballroom. In reality they were grouped around the door of GeraldWade’sbedroom, and the air was full of subdued giggles and the loud ticking ofclocks.

“Underthebedinarow,”suggestedJimmyinanswertoBill’squestion.

“Andwhatshallwesetthemat?Whattime,Imean?Alltogethersothatthere’sonegloriouswhatnot,oratintervals?”

The point was hotly disputed. One party argued that for a championsleeper like GerryWade the combined ringing of eight alarum clocks wasnecessary.Theotherpartyarguedinfavourofsteadyandsustainedeffort.

Intheendthelatterwontheday.Theclocksweresettogooffoneaftertheother,startingat6:30am.

“AndIhope,”saidBillvirtuously,“thatthiswillbealessontohim.”

“Hear,hear,”saidSocks.

Thebusinessofhidingtheclockswasjustbeingbegunwhentherewasasuddenalarm.

“Hist,”criedJimmy.“Somebody’scomingupthestairs.”

Therewasapanic.

“It’sallright,”saidJimmy.“It’sonlyPongo.”

Takingadvantageofbeingdummy,Mr.Batemanwasgoing tohis roomforahandkerchief.Hepausedonhiswayandtookinthesituationataglance.Hethenmadeacomment,asimpleandpracticalone.

“Hewillhearthemtickingwhenhegoestobed.”

Theconspiratorslookedateachother.

“WhatdidItellyou?”saidJimmyinareverentvoice.“Pongoalwaysdidhavebrains!”

Thebrainyonepassedon.

“It’strue,”admittedRonnyDevereux,hisheadononeside.“Eightclocksall ticking at once domake a devil of a row.Even oldGerry, ass as he is,couldn’tmissit.He’llguesssomething’sup.”

“Iwonderifheis,”saidJimmyThesiger.

“Iswhat?”

“Suchanassasweallthink.”

Ronnystaredathim.

“WeallknowoldGerald.”

“Dowe?” said Jimmy. “I’ve sometimes thought that—well, that it isn’tpossibleforanyonetobequitetheassoldGerrymakeshimselfouttobe.”

Theyallstaredathim.TherewasaseriouslookonRonny’sface.

“Jimmy,”hesaid,“you’vegotbrains.”

“AsecondPongo,”saidBillencouragingly.

“Well,itjustoccurredtome,that’sall,”saidJimmy,defendinghimself.

“Oh! don’t let’s all be subtle,” cried Socks. “What are we to do abouttheseclocks?”

“Here’sPongocomingbackagain.Let’saskhim,”suggestedJimmy.

Pongo, urged to bring his great brain to bear upon thematter, gave hisdecision.

“Wait till he’s gone to bed and got to sleep. Then enter the room veryquietlyandputtheclocksdownonthefloor.”

“Little Pongo’s right again,” said Jimmy. “On the word one all parkclocks,andthenwe’llgodownstairsanddisarmsuspicion.”

Bridge was still proceeding—with a slight difference. Sir Oswald wasnow playingwith hiswife andwas conscientiously pointing out to her themistakes she hadmadeduring the play of each hand.LadyCoote acceptedreproofgood-humouredly,andwithacompletelackofanyrealinterest.Shereiterated,notonce,butmanytimes:

“Isee,dear.It’ssokindofyoutotellme.”

Andshecontinuedtomakeexactlythesameerrors.

Atintervals,GeraldWadesaidtoPongo:

“Well-played,partner,jollywell-played.”

BillEversleighwasmakingcalculationswithRonnyDevereux.

“Sayhegoes tobedabout twelve—whatdoyou thinkweought togivehim—aboutanhour?”

Heyawned.

“Curious thing—three in themorning ismyusual time forbye-bye,buttonight,justbecauseIknowwe’vegottositupabit,I’dgiveanythingtobeamother’sboyandturninrightaway.”

Everyoneagreedthattheyfeltthesame.

“MydearMaria,”rosethevoiceofSirOswaldinmildirritation.“Ihavetoldyouoverandoveragainnottohesitatewhenyouarewonderingwhether

tofinesseornot.Yougivethewholetableinformation.”

LadyCootehadaverygoodanswer to this—namely thatasSirOswaldwasdummy,hehadnorighttocommentontheplayofthehand.Butshedidnotmake it. Insteadshesmiledkindly, leanedheramplechestwell forwardoverthetable,andgazedfirmlyintoGeraldWade’shandwherehesatonherright.

Heranxietieslulledtorestbyperceivingthequeen,sheplayedtheknaveandtookthetrickandproceededtolaydownhercards.

“Fourtricksandtherubber,”sheannounced.“IthinkIwasveryluckytogetfourtricksthere.”

“Lucky,”murmuredGeraldWade,ashepushedbackhischairandcameovertothefiresidetojointheothers.“Lucky,shecallsit.Thatwomanwantswatching.”

LadyCootewasgatheringupnotesandsilver.

“IknowI’mnotagoodplayer,”sheannouncedinamournfultonewhichneverthelessheldanundercurrentofpleasureinit.“ButI’mreallyveryluckyatthegame.”

“You’llneverbeabridgeplayer,Maria,”saidSirOswald.

“No,dear,”saidLadyCoote.“IknowIshan’t.You’realwaystellingmeso.AndIdotrysohard.”

“Shedoes,”saidGeraldWadesottovoce.“There’snosubterfugeaboutit.She’dputherheadrightdownonyourshoulderifshecouldn’tseeintoyourhandanyotherway.”

“I know you try,” said SirOswald. “It’s just that you haven’t any cardsense.”

“Iknow,dear,”saidLadyCoote.“That’swhatyou’realwaystellingme.Andyouowemeanothertenshillings,Oswald.”

“DoI?”SirOswaldlookedsurprised.

“Yes.Seventeenhundred—eightpoundsten.You’veonlygivenmeeightpounds.”

“Dearme,”saidSirOswald.“Mymistake.”

LadyCoote smiledathimsadlyand tookup theextra ten shillingnote.Shewasveryfondofherhusband,butshehadnointentionofallowinghimtocheatheroutoftenshillings.

SirOswaldmovedovertoasidetableandbecamehospitablewithwhiskyandsoda.Itwashalfpasttwelvewhengeneralgoodnightsweresaid.

RonnyDevereux,whohadtheroomnextdoortoGeraldWade’s,wastoldofftoreportprogress.Ataquartertotwohecreptroundtappingatdoors.Theparty, pyjamaed and dressing gowned, assembledwith various scuffles andgigglesandlowwhispers.

“His light went out twenty minutes ago,” reported Ronny in a hoarsewhisper. “I thought he’d never put it out. I opened the door just now andpeepedin,andheseemssoundoff.Whataboutit?”

Oncemore theclocksweresolemnlyassembled.Thenanotherdifficultyarose.

“Wecan’tallgobargingin.Makenoendofarow.Oneperson’sgottodoitandtheotherscanhandhimthewhatnotsfromthedoor.”

Hotdiscussionthenaroseastotheproperpersontobeselected.

Thethreegirlswererejectedonthegroundsthattheywouldgiggle.BillEversleighwasrejectedonthegroundsofhisheight,weightandheavytread,alsoforhisgeneralclumsiness,whichlatterclausehefiercelydenied.JimmyThesigerandRonnyDevereuxwereconsideredpossibles,but in theendanoverwhelmingmajoritydecidedinfavourofRupertBateman.

“Pongo’sthelad,”agreedJimmy.“Anyway,hewalkslikeacat—alwaysdid.Andthen,ifGerryshouldwakenup,Pongowillbeabletothinkofsomerotten silly thing to say tohim.Youknow, somethingplausible that’ll calmhimdownandnotrousehissuspicions.”

“Somethingsubtle,”suggestedthegirlSocksthoughtfully.

“Exactly,”saidJimmy.

Pongo performed his job neatly and efficiently. Cautiously opening thebedroomdoor,hedisappearedintothedarknessinsidebearingthetwolargestclocks.Inaminuteortwohereappearedonthethresholdandtwomorewerehandedtohimandthenagaintwicemore.Finallyheemerged.Everyoneheldtheirbreathandlistened.TherhythmicalbreathingofGeraldWadecouldstill

be heard, but drowned, smothered and buried beneath the triumphant,impassionedtickingofMr.Murgatroyd’seightalarumclocks.

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Three

THEJOKETHATFAILED

“Twelveo’clock,”saidSocksdespairingly.

Thejoke—asajoke—hadnotgoneoffanytoowell.Thealarumclocks,ontheotherhand,hadperformedtheirpart.Theyhadgoneoff—withavigourandélan that could hardly have been surpassed andwhich had sentRonnyDevereux leapingoutofbedwithaconfused idea that thedayof judgmenthad come. If such had been the effect in the room next door,whatmust ithavebeenatclosequarters?Ronnyhurriedoutinthepassageandappliedhiseartothecrackofthedoor.

He expected profanity—expected it confidently and with intelligentanticipation.Butheheardnothingatall.That is tosay,heheardnothingofwhat he expected. The clocks were ticking all right—ticking in a loud,arrogant,exasperatingmanner.Andpresentlyanotherwentoff,ringingwithacrude,deafeningnotethatwouldhavearousedacuteirritationinadeafman.

There was no doubt about it; the clocks had performed their partfaithfully.TheydidallandmorethanMr.Murgatroydhadclaimedforthem.ButapparentlytheyhadmettheirmatchinGeraldWade.

Thesyndicatewasinclinedtobedespondentaboutit.

“Theladisn’thuman,”grumbledJimmyThesiger.

“Probablythoughtheheardthetelephoneinthedistanceandrolledoverandwenttosleepagain,”suggestedHelen(orpossiblyNancy).

“Itseemstomeveryremarkable,”saidRupertBatemanseriously.“Ithinkheoughttoseeadoctoraboutit.”

“Somediseaseoftheeardrums,”suggestedBillhopefully.

“Well,ifyouaskme,”saidSocks,“Ithinkhe’sjustspoofingus.Ofcoursetheywokehimup.Buthe’s justgoing todousdownbypretending thathedidn’thearanything.”

EveryonelookedatSockswithrespectandadmiration.

“It’sanidea,”saidBill.

“He’ssubtle,that’swhatitis,”saidSocks.“You’llsee,he’llbeextralateforbreakfastthismorning—justtoshowus.”

Andsincetheclocknowpointedtosomeminutespasttwelvethegeneralopinion was that Sock’s theory was a correct one. Only Ronny Devereuxdemurred.

“Youforget,Iwasoutsidethedoorwhenthefirstonewentoff.WhateveroldGerry decided to do later, the first onemust have surprised him.He’dhaveletoutsomethingaboutit.Wheredidyouputit,Pongo?”

“Onalittletableclosebyhisear,”saidMr.Bateman.

“That was thoughtful of you, Pongo,” said Ronny. “Now, tell me.” HeturnedtoBill.“Ifawhackinggreatbellstartedringingwithinafewinchesofyourearathalfpastsixinthemorning,whatwouldyousayaboutit?”

“Oh,Lord,”saidBill.“Ishouldsay—”Hecametoastop.

“Ofcourseyouwould,”saidRonny.“SowouldI.Sowouldanyone.Whattheycallthenaturalmanwouldemerge.Well,itdidn’t.SoIsaythatPongoisright—asusual—andthatGerryhasgotanobscurediseaseoftheeardrums.”

“It’snowtwentypasttwelve,”saidoneoftheothergirlssadly.

“Isay,”saidJimmyslowly,“that’sabitbeyondanything,isn’tit?Imeana joke’s a joke. But this is carrying it a bit far. It’s a shade hard on theCootes.”

Billstaredathim.

“Whatareyougettingat?”

“Well,”saidJimmy.“Somehoworother—it’snotlikeoldGerry.”

Hefound ithard toput intowords justwhathemeant tosay.Hedidn’twant to say toomuch,andyet—HesawRonny lookingathim.Ronnywassuddenlyalert.

Itwas at thatmomentTredwell came into the room and looked aroundhimhesitatingly.

“IthoughtMr.Batemanwashere,”heexplainedapologetically.

“Justgoneout thisminute through thewindow,” saidRonny.“Can Idoanything?”

Tredwell’s eyes wandered from him to Jimmy Thesiger and then backagain. As though singled out, the two youngmen left the roomwith him.Tredwellclosedthediningroomdoorcarefullybehindhim.

“Well,”saidRonny.“What’sup?”

“Mr.Wadenothavingyet comedown, sir, I took the libertyof sendingWilliamsuptohisroom.”

“Yes?”

“Williamshas justcomerunningdowninagreatstateofagitation,sir.”Tredwell paused—a pause of preparation. “I am afraid, sir, the poor younggentlemanmusthavediedinhissleep.”

JimmyandRonnystaredathim.

“Nonsense,”criedRonnyatlast.“It’s—it’simpossible.Gerry—”Hisfaceworked suddenly. “I’ll—I’ll run up and see. That foolWilliams may havemadeamistake.”

Tredwellstretchedoutadetaininghand.Withaqueer,unnaturalfeelingofdetachment,Jimmyrealizedthatthebutlerhadthewholesituationinhand.

“No, sir, Williams has made no mistake. I have already sent for Dr.Cartwright,andinthemeantimeIhavetakenthelibertyoflockingthedoor,preparatory to informingSirOswaldofwhathasoccurred. ImustnowfindMr.Bateman.”

Tredwellhurriedaway.Ronnystoodlikeamandazed.

“Gerry,”hemutteredtohimself.

Jimmytookhisfriendbythearmandsteeredhimoutthroughasidedoorontoasecludedportionoftheterrace.Hepushedhimdownontoaseat.

“Takeiteasy,oldson,”hesaidkindly.“You’llgetyourwindinaminute.”

But he looked at him rather curiously.He had no idea that RonnywassuchafriendofGerryWade’s.

“PooroldGerry,”hesaidthoughtfully.“Ifeveramanlookedfit,hedid.”

Ronnynodded.

“Allthatclockbusinessseemssorottennow,”wentonJimmy.“It’sodd,isn’tit,whyfarcesooftenseemstogetmixedupwithtragedy?”

Hewas talkingmore or less at random, to giveRonny time to recoverhimself.Theothermovedrestlessly.

“Iwishthatdoctorwouldcome.Iwanttoknow—”

“Knowwhat?”

“Whathe—diedof.”

Jimmypurseduphislips.

“Heart?”hehazarded.

Ronnygaveashort,scornfullaugh.

“Isay,Ronny,”saidJimmy.

“Well?”

Jimmyfoundadifficultyingoingon.

“Youdon’tmean—youaren’t thinking—Imean, youhaven’t got it intoyour head—that, well I mean he wasn’t biffed on the head or anything?Tredwell’slockingthedoorandallthat.”

It seemed to Jimmy that his words deserved an answer, but Ronnycontinuedtostarestraightoutinfrontofhim.

Jimmyshookhisheadandrelapsedintosilence.Hedidn’tseethattherewasanythingtodoexceptjustwait.Sohewaited.

ItwasTredwellwhodisturbedthem.

“The doctorwould like to see you two gentlemen in the library, if youplease,sir.”

Ronnysprangup.Jimmyfollowedhim.

Dr. Cartwrightwas a thin, energetic youngmanwith a clever face. Hegreeted themwith a brief nod. Pongo, lookingmore serious and spectacledthanever,performedintroductions.

“IunderstandyouwereagreatfriendofMr.Wade’s,”thedoctorsaidtoRonny.

“Hisgreatestfriend.”

“H’m.Well,thisbusinessseemsstraightforwardenough.Sad,though.Helookedahealthyyoungchap.Doyouknowifhewasinthehabitofsmokingstufftomakehimsleep?”

“Makehimsleep.”Ronnystared.“Healwayssleptlikeatop.”

“Youneverheardhimcomplainofsleeplessness?”

“Never.”

“Well, the facts are simple enough. There’ll have to be an inquest, I’mafraid,nevertheless.”

“Howdidhedie?”

“There’snotmuchdoubt; Ishouldsayanoverdoseofchloral.Thestuffwasbyhisbed.Andabottleandglass.Verysad,thesethingsare.”

ItwasJimmywhoaskedthequestionwhichhefeltwastremblingonhisfriend’slips,andyetwhichtheothercouldsomehoworothernotgetout.

“There’snoquestionof—foulplay?”

Thedoctorlookedathimsharply.

“Whydoyousaythat?Anycausetosuspectit,eh?”

Jimmy looked at Ronny. If Ronny knew anything nowwas the time tospeak.ButtohisastonishmentRonnyshookhishead.

“Nocausewhatever,”hesaidclearly.

“Andsuicide—eh?”

“Certainlynot.”

Ronnywasemphatic.Thedoctorwasnotsoclearlyconvinced.

“Notroublesthatyouknowof?Moneytroubles?Awoman?”

AgainRonnyshookhishead.

“Nowabouthisrelations.Theymustbenotified.”

“He’s got a sister—a half sister rather. Lives at Deane Priory. Abouttwentymilesfromhere.Whenhewasn’tintownGerrylivedwithher.”

“H’m,”saidtheDoctor.“Well,shemustbetold.”

“I’llgo,”saidRonny.“It’sarottenjob,butsomebody’sgottodoit.”He

lookedatJimmy.“Youknowher,don’tyou?”

“Slightly.I’vedancedwithheronceortwice.”

“Thenwe’llgoinyourcar.Youdon’tmind,doyou?Ican’tfaceitalone.”

“That’s all right,” said Jimmy reassuringly. “I was going to suggest itmyself.I’llgoandgettheoldbuscrankedup.”

Hewasgladtohavesomethingtodo.Ronny’smannerpuzzledhim.Whatdidheknoworsuspect?Andwhyhadhenotvoicedhissuspicions,ifhehadthem,tothedoctor.

Presently the two friends were skimming along in Jimmy’s car with acheerfuldisregardforsuchthingsasspeedlimits.

“Jimmy,”saidRonnyatlast,“Isupposeyou’reaboutthebestpalIhave—now.”

“Well”saidJimmy,“whataboutit?”

Hespokegruffly.

“There’ssomethingI’dliketotellyou.Somethingyououghttoknow.”

“AboutGerryWade?”

“Yes,aboutGerryWade.”

Jimmywaited.

“Well?”heinquiredatlast.

“Idon’tknowthatIoughtto,”saidRonny.

“Why?”

“I’mboundbyakindofpromise.”

“Oh!Wellthen,perhapsyou’dbetternot.”

Therewasasilence.

“Andyet,I’dlike—Yousee,Jimmy,yourbrainsarebetterthanmine.”

“Theycouldeasilybethat,”saidJimmyunkindly.

“No,Ican’t,”saidRonnysuddenly.

“Allright,”saidJimmy.“Justasyoulike.”

Afteralongsilence,Ronnysaid:

“What’sshelike?”

“Who?”

“Thisgirl.Gerry’ssister.”

Jimmy was silent for some minutes, then he said in a voice that hadsomehoworotheraltered:

“She’sallright.Infact—well,she’sacorker.”

“Gerrywasverydevotedtoher,Iknew.Heoftenspokeofher.”

“ShewasverydevotedtoGerry.It—it’sgoingtohitherhard.”

“Yes,anastyjob.”

TheyweresilenttilltheyreachedDeanePriory.

MissLoraine,themaidtoldthem,wasinthegarden.UnlesstheywantedtoseeMrs.Coker.

JimmywaseloquentthattheydidnotwanttoseeMrs.Coker.

“Who’sMrs.Coker?”askedRonnyastheywentroundintothesomewhatneglectedgarden.

“TheoldtroutwholiveswithLoraine.”

Theyhadsteppedoutintoapavedwalk.Attheendofitwasagirlwithtwoblackspaniels.Asmallgirl,veryfair,dressedinshabbyoldtweeds.NotatallthegirlthatRonnyhadexpectedtosee.Not,infact,Jimmy’susualtype.

Holdingonedogbythecollar,shecamedownthepathwaytomeetthem.

“Howdoyoudo,”shesaid.“Youmustn’tmindElizabeth.She’sjusthadsomepuppiesandshe’sverysuspicious.”

Shehad a supremelynaturalmanner and, as she lookedup smiling, thefaintwild-roseflushdeepenedinhercheeks.Hereyeswereaverydarkblue—likecornflowers.

Suddenly they widened—was it with alarm? As though, already, sheguessed.

Jimmyhastenedtospeak.

“ThisisRonnyDevereux,MissWade.YoumustoftenhaveheardGerryspeakofhim.”

“Oh,yes.”Sheturnedalovely,warm,welcomingsmileonhim.“You’veboth been staying at Chimneys, haven’t you?Why didn’t you bring Gerryoverwithyou?”

“We-er-couldn’t,”saidRonny,andthenstopped.

AgainJimmysawthelookoffearflashintohereyes.

“MissWade,”hesaid,“I’mafraid—Imean,we’vegotbadnewsforyou.”

Shewasonthealertinamoment.

“Gerry?”

“Yes—Gerry.He’s—”

Shestampedherfootwithsuddenpassion.

“Oh!tellme—tellme—”SheturnedsuddenlyonRonny.“You’lltellme.”

Jimmy felt a pangof jealousy, and in thatmomentheknewwhatup tonowhehadhesitatedtoadmittohimself.HeknewwhyHelenandNancyandSockswerejust“girls”tohimandnothingmore.

Heonlyhalf-heardRonny’svoicesayingbravely:

“Yes,MissWade,I’lltellyou.Gerryisdead.”

Shehadplentyofpluck.Shegaspedanddrewback,but inaminuteortwoshewasaskingeager,searchingquestions.How?When?

Ronnyansweredherasgentlyashecould.

“Sleepingdraught?Gerry?”

The incredulity inhervoicewasplain.Jimmygaveheraglance. Itwasalmost a glance of warning. He had a sudden feeling that Loraine in herinnocencemightsaytoomuch.

Inhisturnheexplainedasgentlyaspossibletheneedforaninquest.Sheshuddered. She declined their offer of taking her back to Chimneys withthem,butexplainedshewouldcomeover later.Shehada two-seaterofherown.

“ButIwanttobe—bealonealittlefirst,”shesaidpiteously.

“Iknow,”saidRonny.

“That’sallright,”saidJimmy.

Theylookedather,feelingawkwardandhelpless.

“Thankyoubotheversomuchforcoming.”

They drove back in silence and there was something like constraintbetweenthem.

“MyGod!thatgirl’splucky,”saidRonnyonce.

Jimmyagreed.

“Gerrywasmyfriend,”saidRonny.“It’suptometokeepaneyeonher.”

“Oh!rather.Ofcourse.”

OnreturningtoChimneysJimmywaswaylaidbyatearfulLadyCoote.

“Thatpoorboy,”shekeptrepeating.“Thatpoorboy.”

Jimmymadeallthesuitableremarkshecouldthinkof.

LadyCootetoldhimatgreat lengthvariousdetailsabout thedeceaseofvariousdearfriendsofhers.Jimmylistenedwithashowofsympathyandatlastmanagedtodetachhimselfwithoutactualrudeness.

Heranlightlyupthestairs.RonnywasjustemergingfromGeraldWade’sroom.HeseemedtakenabackatthesightofJimmy.

“I’vebeenintoseehim,”hesaid.“Areyougoingin?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jimmy, who was a healthy young man with anaturaldislikeofbeingremindedofdeath.

“Ithinkallhisfriendsoughtto.”

“Oh!doyou?”said Jimmy,and registered tohimselfan impression thatRonnyDevereuxwasdamnedoddaboutitall.

“Yes.It’sasignofrespect.”

Jimmysighed,butgavein.”

“Oh!verywell,”hesaid,andpassedin,settinghisteethalittle.

Therewerewhiteflowersarrangedonthecoverlet,andtheroomhadbeentidiedandsettorights.

Jimmygaveonequick,nervousglanceatthestill,whiteface.Couldthatbecherubic,pinkGerryWade?Thatstillpeacefulfigure.Heshivered.

Asheturnedtoleavetheroom,hisglancesweptthemantelshelfandhestoppedinastonishment.Thealarumclockshadbeenrangedalongitneatlyinarow.

Hewentoutsharply.Ronnywaswaitingforhim.

“Looksverypeacefulandallthat.Rottenluckonhim,”mumbledJimmy.

Thenhesaid:

“Isay,Ronny,whoarrangedallthoseclockslikethatinarow?”

“HowshouldIknow?Oneoftheservants,Isuppose.”

“Thefunnythingis,”saidJimmy,“thattherearesevenofthem,noteight.Oneofthem’smissing.Didyounoticethat?”

Ronnymadeaninaudiblesound.

“Seveninsteadofeight,”saidJimmy,frowning.“Iwonderwhy.”

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Four

ALETTER

“Inconsiderate,that’swhatIcallit,”saidLordCaterham.He spoke in a gentle, plaintive voice and seemed pleased with the

adjectivehehadfound.

“Yes, distinctly inconsiderate. I often find these self-made men areinconsiderate.Verypossiblythatiswhytheyamasssuchlargefortunes.”

Helookedmournfullyoutoverhisancestralacres,ofwhichhehadtodayregainedpossession.

His daughter, Lady Eileen Brent, known to her friends and society ingeneralas“Bundle,”laughed.

“You’ll certainly never amass a large fortune,” she observed dryly,“thoughyoudidn’tdosobadlyoutofoldCoote,stickinghimforthisplace.Whatwashelike?Presentable?”

“Oneofthoselargemen,”saidLordCaterham,shudderingslightly,“witha red square face and iron-greyhair.Powerful, youknow.What they call aforcefulpersonality.Thekindofmanyou’dget ifasteamrollerwereturnedintoahumanbeing.”

“Rathertiring?”suggestedBundlesympathetically.

“Frightfullytiring,fullofallthemostdepressingvirtueslikesobrietyandpunctuality. I don’t know which are the worst, powerful personalities orearnestpoliticians.Idosopreferthecheerfulinefficient.”

“Acheerfulinefficientwouldn’thavebeenabletopayyouthepriceyouaskedforthisoldmausoleum,”Bundleremindedhim.

LordCaterhamwinced.

“Iwishyouwouldn’tuse thatword,Bundle.Wewere justgettingawayfromthesubject.”

“I don’t see why you’re so frightfully sensitive about it,” said Bundle.“Afterall,peoplemustdiesomewhere.”

“Theyneedn’tdieinmyhouse,”saidLordCaterham.

“I don’t seewhy not. Lots of people have.Masses of stuffy old great-grandfathersandgrandmothers.”

“That’sdifferent,”saidLordCaterham.“NaturallyIexpectBrentstodiehere—theydon’tcount.ButIdoobjecttostrangers.AndIespeciallyobjectto inquests. The thing will become a habit soon. This is the second. Yourememberallthatfusswehadfouryearsago?Forwhich,bytheway,IholdGeorgeLomaxentirelytoblame.”

“Andnowyou’re blaming poor old steamrollerCoote. I’m sure hewasquiteasannoyedaboutitasanyone.”

“Very inconsiderate,” said Lord Caterham obstinately. “People who arelikelytodothatsortofthingoughtn’ttobeaskedtostay.Andyoumaysaywhatyoulike,Bundle,Idon’tlikeinquests.IneverhaveandInevershall.”

“Well, this wasn’t the same sort of thing as the last one,” said Bundlesoothingly.“Imean,itwasn’tamurder.”

“Itmighthavebeen—fromthefussthatthickheadofaninspectormade.He’snevergotoverthatbusinessfouryearsago.Hethinkseverydeaththattakes place heremust necessarily be a case of foul play fraughtwith gravepolitical significance. You’ve no idea the fuss he made. I’ve been hearingaboutitfromTredwell.Testedeverythingimaginableforfingerprints.Andofcoursetheyonlyfoundthedeadman’sown.Theclearestcaseimaginable—thoughwhetheritwassuicideoraccidentisanothermatter.”

“ImetGerryWadeonce,”saidBundle.“HewasafriendofBill’s.You’dhavelikedhim,Father.Ineversawanyonemorecheerfullyinefficientthanhewas.”

“I don’t like anyone who comes and dies in my house on purpose toannoyme,”saidLordCaterhamobstinately.

“ButIcertainlycan’timagineanyonemurderinghim,”continuedBundle.“Theidea’sabsurd.”

“Ofcourseitis,”saidLordCaterham.“OrwouldbetoanyonebutanasslikeInspectorRaglan.”

“Idaresaylookingforfingerprintsmadehimfeelimportant,”saidBundlesoothingly. “Anyway, they brought it in ‘Death by misadventure,’ didn’tthey?”

LordCaterhamacquiesced.

“Theyhadtoshowsomeconsiderationforthesister’sfeelings?”

“Wasthereasister.Ididn’tknow.”

“Halfsister, Ibelieve.Shewasmuchyounger.OldWaderanawaywithhermother—hewasalwaysdoingthatsortofthing.Nowomanappealedtohimunlessshebelongedtoanotherman.”

“I’mgladthere’sonebadhabityouhaven’tgot,”saidBundle.

“I’ve always led a very respectable God-fearing life,” said LordCaterham. “It seems extraordinary, considering how little harm I do toanybody,thatIcan’tbeletalone.Ifonly—”

HestoppedasBundlemadeasuddenexcursionthroughthewindow.

“MacDonald,”calledBundleinaclear,autocraticvoice.

Theemperorapproached.Somethingthatmightpossiblyhavebeentakenfor a smile of welcome tried to express itself on his countenance, but thenaturalgloomofgardenersdispelledit.

“Yourladyship?”saidMacDonald.

“Howareyou?”saidBundle.

“I’mnoverragrand,”saidMacDonald.

“I wanted to speak to you about the bowling green. It’s shockinglyovergrown.Putsomeoneontoit,willyou?”

MacDonaldshookhisheaddubiously.

“ItwouldmeantakingWilliamfromthelowerborder,m’lady.”

“Damn the lower border,” said Bundle. “Let him start at once. AndMacDonald—”

“Yes,m’lady?”

“Let’shave someof thosegrapes in from the far house. I know it’s thewrong time to cut thembecause it always is, but Iwant themall the same.

See?”

Bundlereenteredthelibrary.

“Sorry, Father,” she said. “I wanted to catch MacDonald. Were youspeaking?”

“Asamatterof fact Iwas,”saidLordCaterham.“But itdoesn’tmatter.WhatwereyousayingtoMacDonald?”

“Trying to cure him of thinking he’s God Almighty. But that’s animpossible task. I expect the Cootes have been bad for him. MacDonaldwouldn’t care one hoot, or even two hoots, for the largest steamroller thateverwas.What’sLadyCootelike?”

LordCaterhamconsideredthequestion.

“VerylikemyideaofMrs.Siddons,”hesaidat last.“Ishouldthinkshewent in a lot for amateur theatricals. I gather shewas very upset about theclockbusiness.”

“Whatclockbusiness?”

“Tredwell has just been tellingme. It seems the house party had somejokeon.Theyboughta lotofalarumclocksandhid themabout thisyoungWade’sroom.Andthen,ofcourse,thepoorchapwasdead.Whichmadethewholethingratherbeastly.

Bundlenodded.

“Tredwelltoldmesomethingelseratheroddabouttheclocks,”continuedLord Caterham, who was now quite enjoying himself. “It seems thatsomebodycollectedthemallandputtheminarowonthemantelpieceafterthepoorfellowwasdead.”

“Well,whynot?”saidBundle.

“Idon’tseewhynotmyself,”saidLordCaterham.“Butapparentlytherewassomefussaboutit.Noonewouldownuptohavingdoneit,yousee.Allthe servants were questioned and swore they hadn’t touched the beastlythings.Infact,itwasratheramystery.Andthenthecoroneraskedquestionsattheinquest,andyouknowhowdifficultitistoexplainthingstopeopleofthatclass.”

“Perfectlyfoul,”agreedBundle.

“Of course,” saidLordCaterham, “it’s very difficult to get the hang ofthingsafterwards.Ididn’tquiteseethepointofhalfthethingsTredwelltoldme.Bytheway,Bundle,thefellowdiedinyourroom.”

Bundlemadeagrimace.

“Whyneedpeopledieinmyroom?”sheaskedwithsomeindignation.

“That’s just what I’ve been saying,” said Lord Caterham, in triumph.“Inconsiderate.Everybody’sdamnedinconsideratenowadays.”

“NotthatImind,”saidBundlevaliantly.“WhyshouldI?”

“I should,” said her father. “I should mind very much. I should dreamthings,youknow—spectralhandsandclankingchains.”

“Well,”saidBundle.“GreatAuntLouisadiedinyourbed.Iwonderyoudon’tseeherspookhoveringoveryou.”

“I do sometimes,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering. “Especially afterlobster.”

“Well,thankheavenI’mnotsuperstitious,”declaredBundle.

Yetthatevening,asshesatinfrontofherbedroomfire,aslim,pyjamaedfigure,shefoundher thoughtsreverting to thatcheery,vacuousyoungman,GerryWade. Impossible to believe that anyone so full of the joy of livingcoulddeliberatelyhavecommittedsuicide.No,theothersolutionmustbetheright one. He had taken a sleeping draught and by a pure mistake hadswallowedanoverdose.Thatwaspossible.ShedidnotfancythatGerryWadehadbeenoverburdenedinanintellectualcapacity.

Hergazeshiftedtothemantelpieceandshebeganthinkingaboutthestoryoftheclocks.Hermaidhadbeenfullofthat,havingjustbeenprimedbythesecondhousemaid.ShehadaddedadetailwhichapparentlyTredwellhadnotthought worthwhile retailing to Lord Caterham, but which had piquedBundle’scuriosity.

Seven clocks had been neatly ranged on the mantelpiece; the last andremainingonehadbeen foundon the lawnoutside,where it hadobviouslybeenthrownfromthewindow.

Bundle puzzled over that point now. It seemed such an extraordinarypurposelessthingtodo.Shecouldimaginethatoneofthemaidsmighthave

tidiedtheclocksandthen,frightenedbytheinquisitionintothematter,havedenied doing so. But surely no maid would have thrown a clock into thegarden.

HadGerryWadedone sowhen its first sharp summonswokehim?Butno; that again was impossible. Bundle remembered hearing that his deathmusthavetakenplaceintheearlyhoursofthemorning,andhewouldhavebeeninacomatoseconditionforsometimebeforethat.

Bundle frowned.This business of the clockswas curious.Shemust getholdofBillEversleigh.Hehadbeenthere,sheknew.

TothinkwastoactwithBundle.Shegotupandwentovertothewritingdesk.Itwasaninlaidaffairwithalidthatrolledback.Bundlesatdownatit,pulledasheetofnotepapertowardsherandwrote.

DearBill,—

Shepausedtopulloutthelowerpartofthedesk.Ithadstuckhalfway,asshe remembered it often did.Bundle tugged at it impatiently but it did notmove.She recalled thatona formeroccasionanenvelopehadbeenpushedbackwithitandhadjammeditforthetimebeing.Shetookathinpaperknifeandslippeditintothenarrowcrack.Shewassofarsuccessfulthatacornerofwhitepapershowed.Bundlecaughtholdofitanddrewitout.Itwasthefirstsheetofaletter,somewhatcrumpled.

ItwasthedatethatfirstcaughtBundle’seye.Abigflourishingdatethatleapedoutfromthepaper.Sept.21st.

“September21st,”saidBundleslowly.“Why,surelythatwas—”

Shebrokeoff.Yes,shewassureofit.The22ndwasthedayGerryWadewas found dead. This, then,was a letter hemust have beenwriting on theveryeveningofthetragedy.

Bundlesmootheditoutandreadit.Itwasunfinished.

“MyDarlingLoraine,—IwillbedownonWednesday.Amfeelingawfullyfitandratherpleasedwithmyselfallround.Itwillbeheavenlytoseeyou.Look here, do forget what I said about that Seven Dials business. Ithoughtitwasgoingtobemoreorlessajoke—butitisn’t—anythingbut.I’msorryIeversaidanythingaboutit—it’snotthekindofbusinesskidslikeyououghttobemixedupin.Soforgetaboutit,see?

“Somethingelse Iwanted to tellyou—but I’msosleepy Ican’tkeepmyeyesopen.

“Oh,aboutLurcher;Ithink—”

Heretheletterbrokeoff.

Bundlesatfrowning.SevenDials.Wherewasthat?Someratherslummydistrict of London, she fancied. The words Seven Dials reminded her ofsomething else, but for themoment she couldn’t think ofwhat. Instead herattentionfastenedontwophrases.“Amfeelingawfullyfit . . .”and“I’msosleepyIcan’tkeepmyeyesopen.”

Thatdidn’t fit in.Thatdidn’t fit inatall.For itwas thatverynight thatGerryWadehadtakensuchaheavydoseofchloralthatheneverwokeagain.Andifwhathehadwritteninthatletterweretrue,whyshouldhehavetakenit?

Bundle shook her head. She looked round the room and gave a slightshiver.SupposingGerryWadewerewatchinghernow. In this roomhehaddied...

She sat very still. The silencewas unbroken save for the ticking of herlittlegoldclock.Thatsoundedunnaturallyloudandimportant.

Bundleglancedtowardsthemantelpiece.Avividpicturerosebeforehermind’seyes.Thedeadmanlyingonthebed,andsevenclockstickingonthemantelpiece—tickingloudly,ominously...ticking...ticking...

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Five

THEMANINTHEROAD

“Father,” said Bundle, opening the door of Lord Caterham’s specialsanctum and putting her head in, “I’m going up to town in theHispano. Ican’tstandthemonotonydownhereanylonger.”

“Weonlygothomeyesterday,”complainedLordCaterham.

“Iknow.Itseemslikeahundredyears.I’dforgottenhowdullthecountrycouldbe.”

“Idon’tagreewithyou,”saidLordCaterham.“It’speaceful,that’swhatitis—peaceful. And extremely comfortable. I appreciate getting back toTredwellmorethanIcantellyou.Thatmanstudiesmycomfortinthemostmarvellousmanner.Somebodycameroundonlythismorningtoknowiftheycouldholdatallyforgirlguideshere—”

“Arally,”interruptedBundle.

“Rally or tally—it’s all the same. Some silly word meaning nothingwhatever.But itwouldhaveputme inaveryawkwardposition—having torefuse—infact,Iprobablyshouldn’thaverefused.ButTredwellgotmeoutofit.I’veforgottenwhathesaid—somethingdamnedingeniouswhichcouldn’thurtanybody’sfeelingsandwhichknockedtheideaontheheadabsolutely.”

“Being comfortable isn’t enough for me,” said Bundle. “I wantexcitement.”

LordCaterhamshuddered.

“Didn’t we have enough excitement four years ago?” he demandedplaintively.

“I’maboutreadyforsomemore,”saidBundle.“NotthatIexpectIshallfindanyintown.ButatanyrateIshan’tdislocatemyjawwithyawning.”

“Inmyexperience,”saidLordCaterham,“peoplewhogoabout looking

fortroubleusuallyfindit.”Heyawned.“Allthesame,”headded,“Iwouldn’tmindrunninguptotownmyself.”

“Well,comeon,”saidBundle.“Butbequick,because’minahurry.”

LordCaterham,whohadbeguntorisefromhischair,paused.

“Didyousayyouwereinahurry?”heaskedsuspiciously.

“Inthedevilofahurry,”saidBundle.

“Thatsettles it,”saidLordCaterham.“I’mnotcoming.Tobedrivenbyyou in theHispanowhenyou’re inahurry—no, it’snot faironanyelderlyman.Ishallstayhere.”

“Pleaseyourself,”saidBundle,andwithdrew.

Tredwelltookherplace.

“The vicar, my lord, is most anxious to see you, some unfortunatecontroversyhavingarisenaboutthestatusoftheBoys’Brigade.”

LordCaterhamgroaned.

“Iratherfancied,mylord,thatIhadheardyoumentionatbreakfastthatyouwerestrollingdowntothevillagethismorningtoconversewiththevicaronthesubject.”

“Didyoutellhimso?”askedLordCaterhameagerly.

“Idid,mylord.Hedeparted,ifImaysayso,hotfoot.IhopeIdidright,mylord?”

“Of course you did, Tredwell. You are always right. You couldn’t gowrongifyoutried.”

Tredwellsmiledbenignlyandwithdrew.

BundlemeanwhilewassoundingtheKlaxonimpatientlybeforethelodgegates,whileasmallchildcamehasteningoutwithallspeedfromthelodge,admonishmentfromhermotherfollowingher.

“Makehaste,Katie.Thatbeherladyshipinamortalhurryasalways.”

Itwas indeed characteristic ofBundle to be in a hurry, especiallywhendriving a car. She had skill and nerve and was a good driver; had it beenotherwiseherrecklesspacewouldhaveendedindisastermorethanonce.

ItwasacrispOctoberday,withablueskyandadazzlingsun.Thesharptangof theairbrought theblood toBundle’scheeksand filledherwith thezestofliving.

She had that morning sent Gerald Wade’s unfinished letter to LoraineWade at Deane Priory, enclosing a few explanatory lines. The curiousimpressionithadmadeuponherwassomewhatdimmedinthedaylight,yetitstill struck her as needing explanation. She intended to get hold of BillEversleigh sometime and extract from him fuller details of the house partywhichhadendedsotragically.Inthemeantime,itwasalovelymorningandshefeltparticularlywellandtheHispanowasrunninglikeadream.

Bundle pressed her foot down on the accelerator and the Hispanorespondedatonce.Mileaftermilevanished,trafficwasfewandfarbetweenandBundlehadaclearstretchofroadinfrontofher.

Andthen,withoutanywarningwhatever,amanreeledoutof thehedgeand on to the road right in front of the car.To stop in timewas out of thequestion. With all her might Bundle wrenched at the steering wheel andswerved out to the right. The car was nearly in the ditch—nearly, but notquite. Itwas a dangerousmanoeuvre; but it succeeded.Bundlewas almostcertainthatshehadmissedtheman.

She looked back and felt a sickening sensation in the middle of heranatomy.Thecarhadnotpassedovertheman,butneverthelessitmusthavestruckhiminpassing.Hewaslyingfacedownwardsontheroad,andhelayominouslystill.

Bundle jumped out and ran back. She had never yet run over anythingmore important than a stray hen. The fact that the accidentwas hardly herfaultdidnotweighwithherat theminute.Themanhadseemeddrunk,butdrunkornot,shehadkilledhim.Shewasquitesureshehadkilledhim.Herheart beat sickeningly in great pounding thumps, sounding right up in herears.

Shekneltdownbythepronefigureandturnedhimverygingerlyover.Heneithergroanednormoaned.Hewasyoung,shesaw,ratherapleasant-facedyoungman,well-dressedandwearingasmalltoothbrushmoustache.

Therewasnoexternalmarkofinjurythatshecouldsee,butshewasquitepositive thathewaseitherdeadordying.Hiseyelidsflickeredandtheeyes

half-opened.Piteouseyes,brownandsuffering,likeadog’s.Heseemedtobestrugglingtospeak.Bundlebentrightover.

“Yes,”shesaid.“Yes?”

Therewassomethinghewantedtosay,shecouldseethat.Wantedtosaybadly.Andshecouldn’thelphim,couldn’tdoanything.

Atlastthewordscame,ameresighingbreath:

“SevenDials...tell...”

“Yes,”saidBundleagain.Itwasanamehewastryingtogetout—tryingwithallhisfailingstrength.“Yes.WhoamItotell?”

“Tell...JimmyThesiger...”Hegotitoutatlast,andthen,suddenly,hisheadfellbackandhisbodywentlimp.

Bundlesatbackonherheels,shiveringfromheadtofoot.Shecouldneverhave imagined that anything so awful could have happened to her.Hewasdead—andshehadkilledhim.

Shetriedtopullherselftogether.Whatmustshedonow?Adoctor—thatwasherfirstthought.Itwaspossible—justpossible—thatthemanmightonlybeunconscious,notdead.Herinstinctcriedoutagainstthepossibility,butsheforcedherselftoactuponit.Somehoworothershemustgethimintothecarandtakehimtothenearestdoctor’s.Itwasadesertedstretchofcountryroadandtherewasnoonetohelpher.

Bundle, for all her slimness,was strong. She hadmuscles ofwhipcord.She brought the Hispano as close as possible, and then exerting all herstrength,shedraggedandpulledtheinanimatefigureintoit.Itwasahorridbusiness,andonethatmadehersetherteeth,butatlastshemanagedit.

Then she jumped into the driver’s seat and set off. A couple of milesbroughtherintoasmalltownandoninquiringshewasquicklydirectedtothedoctor’shouse.

Dr. Cassell, a kindly, middle-aged man, was startled to come into hissurgeryandfindagirltherewhowasevidentlyonthevergeofcollapse.

Bundlespokeabruptly.

“I—IthinkI’vekilledaman.Iranoverhim.Ibroughthimalonginthecar.He’soutsidenow.I—Iwasdrivingtoofast,Isuppose.I’vealwaysdriven

toofast.”

Thedoctorcastapractisedglanceoverher.Hesteppedovertoashelfandpouredsomethingintoaglass.Hebroughtitovertoher.

“Drinkthisdown,”hesaid,“andyou’llfeelbetter.You’vehadashock.”

Bundledrankobedientlyandatingeofcolourcameintoherpallidface.Thedoctornoddedapprovingly.

“That’sright.NowIwantyoutositquietlyhere.I’llgooutandattendtothings.AfterI’vemadesurethere’snothingtobedoneforthepoorfellow,I’llcomebackandwe’lltalkaboutit.”

Hewasawaysome time.Bundlewatched theclockon themantelpiece.Fiveminutes, tenminutes, a quarter of anhour, twentyminutes—wouldheevercome?

ThenthedooropenedandDr.Cassellreappeared.Helookeddifferent—Bundlenoticedthatatonce—grimmerandatthesametimemorealert.Therewas something else in his manner that she did not quite understand, asuggestionofrepressedexcitement.

“Nowthen,younglady,”hesaid.“Let’shavethisout.Youranoverthisman,yousay.Tellmejusthowtheaccidenthappened?”

Bundle explained to the best of her ability. The doctor followed hernarrativewithkeenattention.

“Justso;thecardidn’tpassoverhisbody?”

“No.Infact,IthoughtI’dmissedhimaltogether.”

“Hewasreeling,yousay?”

“Yes,Ithoughthewasdrunk.”

“Andhecamefromthehedge?”

“There was a gate just there, I think. He must have come through thegate.”

The doctor nodded, then he leaned back in his chair and removed hispince-nez.

“I’venodoubtatall,”hesaid,“thatyou’reaveryrecklessdriver,andthatyou’llprobablyrunoversomepoorfellowanddoforhimoneofthesedays

—butyouhaven’tdoneitthistime.”

“But—”

“Thecarnevertouchedhim.Thismanwasshot.”

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Six

SEVENDIALSAGAIN

Bundle staredathim.Andvery slowly theworld,which for the last threequartersofanhourhadbeenupsidedown,shiftedtillitstoodoncemoretherightwayup.ItwasquitetwominutesbeforeBundlespoke,butwhenshediditwasnolongerthepanic-strickengirlbuttherealBundle,cool,efficientandlogical.

“Howcouldhebeshot?”shesaid.

“Idon’tknowhowhecould,”saidthedoctordryly.“Buthewas.He’sgotariflebulletinhimallright.Hebledinternally,that’swhyyoudidn’tnoticeanything.”

Bundlenodded.

“Thequestionis,”thedoctorcontinued,“whoshothim?Yousawnobodyabout?”

Bundleshookherhead.

“It’sodd,”saidthedoctor.“Ifitwasanaccident,you’dexpectthefellowwhodiditwouldcomerunningtotherescue—unlessjustpossiblyhedidn’tknowwhathe’ddone.”

“Therewasnooneabout,”saidBundle.“Ontheroad,thatis.”

“It seems to me,” said the doctor, “that the poor lad must have beenrunning—thebulletgothimjustashepassed throughthegateandhecamereelingontotheroadinconsequence.Youdidn’thearashot?”

Bundleshookherhead.

“ButIprobablyshouldn’tanyway,”shesaid,“withthenoiseofthecar.”

“Justso.Hedidn’tsayanythingbeforehedied?”

“Hemutteredafewwords.”

“Nothingtothrowlightonthetragedy?”

“No.Hewantedsomething—Idon’tknowwhat—toldtoafriendofhis.Oh!Yes,andhementionedSevenDials.”

“H’m,” saidDoctorCassell. “Nota likelyneighbourhood foroneofhisclass. Perhaps his assailant came from there.Well,we needn’tworry aboutthatnow.Youcan leave it inmyhands. I’llnotify thepolice.Youmust,ofcourse, leave your name and address, as the police are sure to want toquestionyou. In fact,perhapsyou’dbettercome round to thepolice stationwithmenow.TheymightsayIoughttohavedetainedyou.”

They went together in Bundle’s car. The police inspector was a slow-speakingman.Hewas somewhat overawed byBundle’s name and addresswhenshegaveittohim,andhetookdownherstatementwithgreatcare.

“Lads!” he said. “That’swhat it is. Lads practising!Cruel stupid, themyoung varmints are. Always loosing off at birds with no consideration foranyoneasmaybetheothersideofahedge.”

The doctor thought it amost unlikely solution, but he realized that thecasewould soonbe inablerhandsand itdidnot seemworthwhile tomakeobjections.

“Nameofdeceased?”askedthesergeant,moisteninghispencil.

“He had a card case on him. He appeared to have been aMr. RonaldDevereux,withanaddressintheAlbany.”

Bundle frowned. The name Ronald Devereux awoke some chord ofrememberance.Shewassureshehadhearditbefore.

ItwasnotuntilshewashalfwaybacktoChimneysinthecarthatitcameto her.Of course!RonnyDevereux.Bill’s friend in the ForeignOffice.HeandBilland—yes—GeraldWade.

As this last realization came to her,Bundle nearlywent into the hedge.FirstGeraldWade—thenRonnyDevereux.GerryWade’sdeathmight havebeennatural—theresultofcarelessness—butRonnyDevereux’ssurelyboreamoresinisterinterpretation.

And then Bundle remembered something else. Seven Dials! When thedyingmanhadsaid it, ithadseemedvaguely familiar.Nowsheknewwhy.GeraldWadehadmentionedSevenDialsinthatlastletterofhiswrittentohis

sister on the night before his death. And that again connected up withsomethingelsethatescapedher.

Thinkingall thesethingsover,Bundlehadsloweddowntosuchasoberpacethatnobodywouldhaverecognizedher.Shedrovethecarroundtothegarageandwentinsearchofherfather.

LordCaterhamwashappilyreadingacatalogueofaforthcomingsaleofrareeditionsandwasimmeasurablyastonishedtoseeBundle.

“Evenyou,”hesaid,“can’thavebeentoLondonandbackinthistime.”

“Ihaven’tbeentoLondon,”saidBundle.“Iranoveraman.”

“What?”

“OnlyIdidn’treally.Hewasshot.”

“Howcouldhehavebeen?”

“Idon’tknowhowhecouldhavebeen,buthewas.”

“Butwhydidyoushoothim?”

“Ididn’tshoothim.”

“You shouldn’t shoot people,” said Lord Caterham in a tone of mildremonstrance.“Youshouldn’treally.Idaresaysomeofthemrichlydeserveit—butallthesameitwillleadtotrouble.”

“ItellyouIdidn’tshoothim.”

“Well,whodid?”

“Nobodyknows,”saidBundle.

“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “A man can’t be shot and run overwithoutanyonehavingdoneit.”

“Hewasn’trunover,”saidBundle.

“Ithoughtyousaidhewas.”

“IsaidIthoughtIhad.”

“A tyre burst, I suppose,” saidLordCaterham. “That does sound like ashot.Itsayssoindetectivestories.”

“Youreallyareperfectlyimpossible,Father.Youdon’tseemtohavethe

brainsofarabbit.”

“Notatall,”saidLordCaterham.“YoucomeinwithawildlyimpossibletaleaboutmenbeingrunoverandshotandIdon’tknowwhat,andthenyouexpectmetoknowallaboutitbymagic.”

Bundlesighedwearily.

“Justattend,”shesaid.“I’lltellyouallaboutitinwordsofonesyllable.”

“There,”shesaidwhenshehadconcluded.“Nowhaveyougotit?”

“Ofcourse. Iunderstandperfectlynow. Icanmakeallowances foryourbeing a little upset,my dear. Iwas not farwrongwhen I remarked to youbefore starting out that people looking for trouble usually found it. I amthankful,”finishedLordCaterhamwithaslightshiver,“thatIstayedquietlyhere.”

Hepickedupthecatalogueagain.

“Father,whereisSevenDials?”

“In theEast End somewhere, I fancy. I have frequently observed busesgoingthere—ordoImeanSevenSisters?Ihaveneverbeentheremyself,I’mthankful to say. Just as well, because I don’t fancy it is the sort of spot Ishould like.Andyet, curiously enough, I seem tohaveheardof it in someconnectionjustlately.”

“Youdon’tknowaJimmyThesiger,doyou?”

LordCaterhamwasnowengrossed in his catalogueoncemore.Hehadmadeaneffort tobe intelligenton the subjectofSevenDials.This timehemadehardlyanyeffortatall.

“Thesiger,” he murmured vaguely. “Thesiger. One of the YorkshireThesigers?”

“That’swhatI’maskingyou.Doattend,Father.Thisisimportant.”

LordCaterhammadeadesperateeffort to look intelligentwithout reallyhavingtogivehismindtothematter.

“Thereare someYorkshireThesigers,” he said earnestly. “And unless Iam mistaken some Devonshire Thesigers also. Your Great Aunt SelinamarriedaThesiger.”

“Whatgoodisthattome?”criedBundle.

LordCaterhamchuckled.

“Itwasverylittlegoodtoher,ifIrememberrightly.”

“You’reimpossible,”saidBundle,rising.“IshallhavetogetholdofBill.”

“Do,dear,”saidherfatherabsentlyasheturnedapage.“Certainly.Byallmeans.Quiteso.”

Bundlerosetoherfeetwithanimpatientsigh.

“IwishIcouldrememberwhat that lettersaid,”shemurmured,more toherself than aloud. “I didn’t read it very carefully.Something about a joke,thattheSevenDialsbusinesswasn’tajoke.”

LordCaterhamemergedsuddenlyfromhiscatalogue.

“SevenDials?”hesaid.“Ofcourse.I’vegotitnow.”

“Gotwhat?”

“I know why it sounded so familiar. George Lomax has been over.Tredwell failed for once and let him in.Hewas on hisway up to town. Itseemshe’shavingsomepoliticalpartyattheAbbeynextweekandhegotawarningletter.”

“Whatdoyoumeanbyawarningletter?”

“Well, I don’t really know. He didn’t go into details. I gather it said‘Beware’and‘Troubleisathand,’andallthosesortofthings.Butanywayitwaswritten fromSevenDials, I distinctly rememberhis saying so.HewasgoinguptotowntoconsultScotlandYardaboutit.YouknowGeorge?”

Bundlenodded.Shewaswell-acquaintedwiththatpublic-spiritedCabinetMinister,GeorgeLomax,HisMajesty’spermanentUnderSecretaryofStateforForeignAffairs,whowasshunnedbymanybecauseofhisinveteratehabitof quoting from his public speeches in private. In allusion to his bulgingeyeballs,hewasknowntomany—BillEversleighamongothers—asCodders.

“Tell me,” she said, “was Codders interested at all in Gerald Wade’sdeath?”

“NotthatIheardof.Hemayhavebeen,ofcourse.”

Bundlesaidnothingforsomeminutes.Shewasbusilyengagedintrying

toremembertheexactwordingofthelettershehadsentontoLoraineWade,andat thesametimeshewas tryingtopicture thegirl towhomithadbeenwritten.Whatsortofagirlwasthistowhom,apparently,GeraldWadewassodevoted?Themoreshethoughtoverit,themoreitseemedtoherthatitwasanunusualletterforabrothertowrite.

“DidyousaytheWadegirlwasGerry’shalfsister?”sheaskedsuddenly.

“Well,ofcourse,strictlyspeaking,Isupposesheisn’t—wasn’t,Imean—hissisteratall.”

“Buthername’sWade?”

“Not really.Shewasn’toldWade’schild.As Iwassaying,he ranawaywithhissecondwife,whowasmarriedtoaperfectblackguard.IsupposetheCourts gave the rascally husband the custody of the child, but he certainlydidn’tavailhimselfoftheprivilege.OldWadegotveryfondofthechildandinsistedthatsheshouldbecalledbyhisname.”

“Isee,”saidBundle.“Thatexplainsit.”

“Explainswhat?”

“Somethingthatpuzzledmeaboutthatletter.”

“She’s rather a pretty girl, I believe,” said Lord Caterham. “Or so I’veheard.”

Bundlewentupstairs thoughtfully.Shehadseveralobjects inview.Firstshe must find this Jimmy Thesiger. Bill, perhaps, would be helpful there.RonnyDevereuxhadbeenafriendofBill’s.IfJimmyThesigerwasafriendofRonny’s,thechanceswerethatBillwouldknowhimtoo.Thentherewasthegirl,LoraineWade.Itwaspossiblethatshecouldthrowsomelightontheproblem of Seven Dials. Evidently GerryWade had said something to heraboutit.Hisanxietythatsheshouldforgetthefacthadasinistersuggestion.

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Seven

BUNDLEPAYSACALL

GettingholdofBillpresentedfewdifficulties.Bundlemotoreduptotownon the following morning—this time without adventures on the way—andranghimup.Billrespondedwithalacrityandmadevarioussuggestionsastolunch,tea,dinneranddancing.AllofwhichsuggestionsBundleturneddownasmade.

“Inadayortwo,I’llcomeandfrivolwithyou,Bill.ButforthemomentI’muponbusiness.”

“Oh,”saidBill.“Whatabeastlybore.”

“It’s not that kind,” saidBundle. “It’s anythingbut boring.Bill, doyouknowanyonecalledJimmyThesiger?”

“Ofcourse.Sodoyou.”

“No,Idon’t,”saidBundle.

“Yes,youdo.Youmust.EveryoneknowsoldJimmy.”

“Sorry,”saidBundle.“JustforonceIdon’tseemtobeeveryone.”

“Oh!butyoumustknowJimmy—pink-facedchap.Looksabitofanass.Butreallyhe’sgotasmanybrainsasIhave.”

“Youdon’tsayso,”saidBundle.“Hemustfeelabit topheavywhenhewalksabout.”

“Wasthatmeantforsarcasm?”

“Itwasafeebleeffortatit.WhatdoesJimmyThesigerdo?”

“Howdoyoumean,whatdoeshedo?”

“Doesbeingat theForeignOfficepreventyou fromunderstandingyournativelanguage?”

“Oh! I see,youmean,hashegot a job?No,he just fools around.Why

shouldhedoanything?”

“Infact,moremoneythanbrains?”

“Oh!Iwouldn’tsaythat.Itoldyoujustnowthathehadmorebrainsthanyou’dthink.”

Bundlewassilent.Shewasfeelingmoreandmoredoubtful.Thisgildedyouthdidnotsoundaverypromisingally.Andyetitwashisnamethathadcome first to the dying man’s lips. Bill’s voice chimed in suddenly withsingularappropriateness.

“Ronnyalways thoughta lotofhisbrains.Youknow,RonnyDevereux.Thesigerwashisgreatestpal.”

“Ronny—”

Bundle stopped, undecided. Clearly Bill knew nothing of the other’sdeath. It occurred to Bundle for the first time that it was odd themorningpapershadcontainednothingof the tragedy.Surelyitwasthekindofspicyitem of news that would never be passed over. There could be oneexplanation,andoneexplanationonly.Thepolice, for reasonsof theirown,werekeepingthematterquiet.

Bill’svoicewascontinuing.

“Ihaven’tseenRonnyforanage—notsincethatweekenddownatyourplace.Youknow,whenpooroldGerryWadepassedout.”

Hepausedandthenwenton.

“Rathera foulbusiness thataltogether. Iexpectyou’veheardabout it. Isay,Bundle—areyoutherestill?”

“OfcourseI’mhere.”

“Well,youhaven’tsaidanythingforanage.Ibegantothinkthatyouhadgoneaway.”

“No,Iwasjustthinkingoversomething.”

ShouldshetellBillofRonny’sdeath?Shedecidedagainstit—itwasnotthesortofthingtobesaidoverthetelephone.Butsoon,verysoon,shemusthaveameetingwithBill.Inthemeantime—

“Bill?”

“Hullo.”

“Imightdinewithyoutomorrownight.”

“Good,andwe’lldanceafterwards.I’vegotalottotalktoyouabout.AsamatteroffactI’vebeenratherhardhit—thefoulestluck—

“Well, tellmeabout it tomorrow,” saidBundle, cuttinghimshort ratherunkindly.“Inthemeantime,whatisJimmyThesiger’saddress?”

“JimmyThesiger?”

“That’swhatIsaid.”

“He’sgotroomsinJermynStreet—doImeanJermynStreetortheotherone?”

“BringthatclassAbraintobearuponit.”

“Yes,JermynStreet.WaitabitandI’llgiveyouthenumber.”

Therewasapause.

“Areyoustillthere?”

“I’malwayshere.”

“Well,oneneverknowswiththesedashedtelephones.Thenumberis103.Gotit?”

“103.Thankyou,Bill.”

“Yes, but, I say—what do you want it for? You said you didn’t knowhim.”

“Idon’t,butIshallinhalfanhour.”

“You’regoingroundtohisrooms?”

“Quiteright,Sherlock.”

“Yes,but,Isay—well,foronethinghewon’tbeup.”

“Won’tbeup?”

“Ishouldn’tthinkso.Imean,whowouldbeiftheyhadn’tgotto?Lookatit thatway.You’veno ideawhataneffort it is forme togethereatelevenevery morning, and the fuss Codders makes if I’m behind time is simplyappalling.Youhaven’ttheleastidea,Bundle,whatadog’slifethisis—”

“Youshalltellmeallaboutittomorrownight,”saidBundlehastily.

Sheslammeddownthereceiverandtookstockofthesituation.Firstsheglancedattheclock.Itwasfiveandtwentyminutestotwelve.DespiteBill’sknowledgeofhisfriend’shabits,sheinclinedtoherbeliefthatMr.Thesigerwould by now be in a fit state to receive visitors. She took a taxi to 103JermynStreet.

The door was opened by a perfect example of the retired gentleman’sgentleman. His face, expessionless and polite, was such a face as may befoundbythescoreinthatparticulardistrictofLondon.

“Willyoucomethisway,madam?”

He ushered her upstairs into an extremely comfortable sitting roomcontainingleather-coveredarmchairsofimmensedimensions.Sunkinoneofthosemonstrositieswasanothergirl,ratheryoungerthanBundle.Asmall,fairgirl,dressedinblack.

“WhatnameshallIsay,madam?”

“Iwon’tgiveanyname,”saidBundle.“IjustwanttoseeMr.Thesigeronimportantbusiness.”

Thegravegentlemanbowedandwithdrew,shutting thedoornoiselesslybehindhim.

Therewasapause.

“It’sanicemorning,”saidthefairgirltimidly.

“It’sanawfullynicemorning,”agreedBundle.

Therewasanotherpause.

“Imotoredupfromthecountrythismorning,”saidBundle,plungingoncemoreintospeech.“AndI thought itwasgoingtobeoneof thosefoulfogs.Butitwasn’t.”

“No,”saidtheothergirl.“Itwasn’t.”Andsheadded:“I’vecomeupfromthecountrytoo.”

Bundle eyed her more attentively. She had been slightly annoyed atfindingtheotherthere.Bundlebelongedtotheenergeticorderofpeoplewholiked“togetonwithit,”andsheforesawthatthesecondvisitorwouldhave

tobedisposedofandgotridofbeforeshecouldbroachherownbusiness.Itwasnotatopicshecouldintroducebeforeastranger.

Now,asshelookedmoreclosely,anextraordinaryidearosetoherbrain.Could it be? Yes, the girl was in deep mourning; her black-clad anklesshowedthat.Itwasalongshot,butBundlewasconvincedthatherideawasright.Shedrewalongbreath.

“Lookhere,”shesaid,“areyoubyanychanceLoraineWade?”

Loraine’seyesopenedwide.

“Yes,Iam.Howcleverofyoutoknow.We’venevermet,havewe?”

“Iwrotetoyouyesterday,though.I’mBundleBrent.”

“ItwassoverykindofyoutosendmeGerry’sletter,”saidLoraine.“I’vewrittentothankyou.Ineverexpectedtoseeyouhere.”

“I’ll tell you why I’m here,” said Bundle. “Did you know RonnyDevereux?”

Lorainenodded.

“Hecameover thedaythatGerry—youknow.Andhe’sbeentoseemetwoorthreetimessince.HewasoneofGerry’sgreatestfriends.”

“Iknow.Well—he’sdead.”

Loraine’slipspartedinsurprise.

“Dead!Buthealwaysseemedsofit.”

Bundlenarratedtheeventsoftheprecedingdayasbrieflyaspossible.AlookoffearandhorrorcameintoLoraine’sface.

“Thenitistrue.Itistrue.”

“What’strue?”

“What I’ve thought—what I’ve been thinking all these weeks. Gerrydidn’tdieanaturaldeath.Hewaskilled.”

“You’vethoughtthat,haveyou?”

“Yes.Gerrywouldneverhavetakenthingstomakehimsleep.”Shegavethe little ghost of a laugh. “He sleptmuch toowell to need them. I alwaysthoughtitqueer.Andhethoughtsotoo—Iknowhedid.”

“Who?”

“Ronny. And now this happens. Now he’s killed too.” She paused andthenwenton:“That’swhatIcamefortoday.ThatletterofGerry’syousentme—assoonas I read it, I tried togetholdofRonny,but theysaidhewasaway. So I thought I’d come and see Jimmy—hewas Ronny’s other greatfriend.Ithoughtperhapshe’dtellmewhatIoughttodo.”

“Youmean—”Bundlepaused.“About—SevenDials.”Lorainenodded.

“Yousee—”shebegan.

ButatthatmomentJimmyThesigerenteredtheroom.

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Eight

VISITORSFORJIMMY

Wemustatthispointgobacktosometwentyminutesearlier,toamomentwhenJimmyThesiger,emergingfromthemistsofsleep,wasconsciousofafamiliarvoicespeakingunfamiliarwords.

Hissleep-riddenbraintriedforamoment tocopewiththesituation,butfailed.Heyawnedandrolledoveragain.

“Ayounglady,sir,hascalledtoseeyou.”

The voice was implacable. So prepared was it to go on repeating thestatement indefinitely that Jimmy resigned himself to the inevitable. Heopenedhiseyesandblinked.

“Eh,Stevens?”hesaid.“Saythatagain.”

“Ayounglady,sir,hascalledtoseeyou.”

“Oh!”Jimmystrovetograspthesituation.“Why?”

“Icouldn’tsay,sir.”

“No,Isupposenot.No,”hethoughtitover.“Isupposeyoucouldn’t.”

Stevensswoopeddownuponatraybythebedside.

“Iwillbringyousomefreshtea,sir.Thisiscold.”

“YouthinkthatIoughttogetupand—er—seethelady?”

Stevensmadenoreply,butheheldhisbackverystiffandJimmyreadthesignscorrectly.

“Oh!verywell,”hesaid.“IsupposeI’dbetter.Shedidn’tgivehername?”

“No,sir.”

“M’m.Shecouldn’tbebyanypossiblechancemyAunt Jemima,couldshe?Becauseifso,I’mdamnedifI’mgoingtogetup.”

“The lady, sir, couldnotpossiblybeanyone’s aunt, I should say,unlesstheyoungestofalargefamily.”

“Aha,”saidJimmy.“Youngandlovely.Isshe—whatkindisshe?”

“Theyounglady,sir,ismostundoubtedlystrictlycommeilfaut,ifImayusetheexpression.”

“Youmay use it,” said Jimmy graciously. “Your French pronunciation,Stevens,ifImaysayso,isverygood.Muchbetterthanmine.”

“Iamgratifiedtohearit,sir.IhavelatelybeentakingacorrespondencecourseinFrench.”

“Haveyoureally?You’reawonderfulchap,Stevens.”

Stevenssmiledinasuperiorfashionandlefttheroom.Jimmylaytryingtorecallthenamesofanyyoungandlovelygirlsstrictlycommeilfautwhomightbelikelytocomeandcalluponhim.

Stevens reentered with fresh tea, and as Jimmy sipped it he felt apleasurablecuriosity.

“You’vegivenherthepaperandallthat,Ihope,Stevens,”hesaid.

“IsuppliedherwiththeMorningPostandPunch,sir.”

Aringatthebelltookhimaway.Inafewminuteshereturned.

“Anotheryounglady,sir.”

“What?”

Jimmyclutchedhishead.

“Another young lady; she declines to give her name, sir, but says herbusinessisimportant.”

Jimmystaredathim.

“This isdamnedodd,Stevens.Damnedodd.Lookhere,what timedidIcomehomelastnight?”

“Justuponfiveo’clock,sir.”

“AndwasI—er—howwasI?”

“Justalittlecheerful,sir—nothingmore.Inclinedtosing‘RuleBritannia.’”

“What an extraordinary thing,” said Jimmy. “ ‘Rule Britannia,’ eh? Icannot imaginemyself in a sober state ever singing ‘RuleBritannia.’Somelatentpatriotismmusthaveemergedunderthestimulusof—er—justacoupletoo many. I was celebrating at the ‘Mustard and Cress,’ I remember. Notnearly such an innocent spot as it sounds, Stevens.” He paused. “I waswondering—”

“Yes,sir?”

“IwaswonderingwhetherundertheaforementionedstimulusIhadputanadvertisementinanewspaperaskingforanurserygovernessorsomethingofthatsort.”

Stevenscoughed.

“Twogirlsturningup.Itlooksodd.Ishalleschewthe‘MustardandCress’infuture.That’sagoodword,Stevens—eschew—Imetitinacrosswordtheotherdayandtookafancytoit.”

WhilsthewastalkingJimmywasrapidlyapparellinghimself.Attheendof tenminuteshewas ready to facehisunknownguests.Asheopened thedoorofhissittingroomthefirstpersonhesawwasadark,slimgirlwhowastotallyunknowntohim.Shewasstandingbythemantelpiece,leaningagainstit.Thenhisglancewentontothebigleather-coveredarmchair,andhisheartmissedabeat.Loraine!

Itwasshewhoroseandspokefirstalittlenervously.

“Youmustbeverysurprisedtoseeme.ButIhadtocome.I’llexplaininaminute.ThisisLadyEileenBrent.”

“Bundle—that’swhatI’musuallyknownas.You’veprobablyheardofmefromBillEversleigh.”

“Oh,rather,ofcourseIhave,”saidJimmy,endeavouringtocopewiththesituation.“Isay,dositdownandlet’shaveacocktailorsomething.”

Bothgirlsdeclined.

“Asamatteroffact,”continuedJimmy,“I’monlyjustoutofbed.”

“That’swhatBillsaid,”remarkedBundle.“ItoldhimIwascomingroundtoseeyou,andhesaidyouwouldn’tbeup.”

“Well,I’mupnow”saidJimmyencouragingly.

“It’saboutGerry,”saidLoraine.“AndnowaboutRonny—”

“Whatdoyoumeanby‘andnowaboutRonny?’”

“Hewasshotyesterday.”

“What?”criedJimmy.

Bundletoldherstoryforthesecondtime.Jimmylistenedlikeamaninadream.

“OldRonny—shot,”hemurmured.“Whatisthisdamnedbusiness?”

Hesatdownontheedgeofachair,thinkingforaminuteortwo,andthenspokeinaquiet,levelvoice.

“There’ssomethingIthinkIoughttotellyou.”

“Yes,”saidBundleencouragingly.

“ItwasonthedayGerryWadedied.Onthewayovertobreakthenewstoyou”—henoddedatLoraine—“inthecarRonnysaidsomethingtome.Thatistosay,hestartedtotellmesomething.Therewassomethinghewantedtotellme,andhebeganaboutit,andthenhesaidhewasboundbyapromiseandcouldn’tgoon.”

“Boundbyapromise,”saidLorainethoughtfully.

“That’swhathesaid.Naturally Ididn’tpresshimafter that.Buthewasodd—damnedodd—allthrough.Igottheimpressionthenthathesuspected—well,foulplay.Ithoughthe’dtellthedoctorso.Butno,notevenahint.SoIthoughtI’dbeenmistaken.Andafterwards,withtheevidenceandall—well,itseemedsuchaveryclearcase.Ithoughtmysuspicionshadbeenallbosh.”

“ButyouthinkRonnystillsuspected?”askedBundle.

Jimmynodded.

“That’s what I think now.Why, none of us have seen anything of himsince.Ibelievehewasplayingalonehand—tryingtofindoutthetruthaboutGerry’s death, and what’s more, I believe he did find out. That’s why thedevilsshothim.Andthenhetriedtosendwordtome,butcouldonlygetoutthosetwowords.”

“SevenDials,”saidBundle,andshiveredalittle.

“SevenDials,”saidJimmygravely.“Atanyratewe’vegotthattogoon

with.”

BundleturnedtoLoraine.

“Youwerejustgoingtotellme—”

“Oh!yes.First,abouttheletter.”ShespoketoJimmy.“Gerryleftaletter.LadyEileen—”

“Bundle.”

“Bundlefoundit.”Sheexplainedthecircumstancesinafewwords.

Jimmylistened,keenlyinterested.Thiswasthefirsthehadheardof theletter. Loraine took it from her bag and handed it to him.He read it, thenlookedacrossather.

“Thisiswhereyoucanhelpus.WhatwasitGerrywantedyoutoforget?”

Loraine’sbrowswrinkledalittleinperplexity.

“It’s so hard to remember exactly now. I opened a letter ofGerry’s bymistake.Itwaswrittenoncheapsortofpaper,Iremember,andveryilliteratehandwriting.IthadsomeaddressinSevenDialsattheheadofit.Irealizeditwasn’tforme,soIputitbackintheenvelopewithoutreadingit.”

“Sure?”askedJimmyverygently.

Lorainelaughedforthefirsttime.

“I knowwhat you think, and I admit thatwomenare curious.But, yousee,thisdidn’tevenlookinteresting.Itwasakindoflistofnamesanddates.”

“Namesanddates,”saidJimmythoughtfully.

“Gerrydidn’tseemtomindmuch,”continuedLoraine.“Helaughed.HeaskedmeifIhadeverheardoftheMafia,andthensaiditwouldbequeerifasocietyliketheMafiastartedinEngland—butthatthatkindofsecretsocietydidn’t takeonmuchwithEnglishpeople. ‘Our criminals,’ he said, ‘haven’tgotapicturesqueimagination.’”

Jimmypursueduphislipsintoawhistle.

“I’mbeginningtosee,”hesaid.“SevenDialsmustbetheheadquartersforsomesecretsociety.Ashesaysinhislettertoyou.Hethoughtitratherajoketo startwith.But evidently itwasn’t a joke—he says asmuch.And there’ssomethingelse:hisanxietythatyoushouldforgetwhathe’stoldyou.There

canbeonlyone reason for that—if that society suspected thatyouhadanyknowledge of its activity, you too would be in danger. Gerald realized theperil,andhewasterriblyanxious—foryou.”

Hestopped,thenhewentonquietly:

“I rather fancy that we’re all going to be in danger—ifwe go onwiththis.”

“If—?”criedBundleindignantly.

“I’mtalkingofyoutwo.It’sdifferentforme.IwaspooroldRonny’spal.”HelookedatBundle.“You’vedoneyourbit.You’vedeliveredthemessagehesentme.No;forGod’ssakekeepoutofit,youandLoraine.”

Bundle looked questioningly at the other girl. Her own mind wasdefinitelymadeup,butshegavenoindicationofitjustthen.ShehadnowishtopushLoraineWadeintoadangerousundertaking.

ButLoraine’ssmallfacewasalightatoncewithindignation.

“Yousaythat!DoyouthinkforoneminuteI’dbecontentedtokeepoutofit—whentheykilledGerry—myowndearGerry,thebestanddearestandkindestbrotheranygirleverhad.TheonlypersonbelongingtomeIhadinthewholeworld!”

Jimmy cleared his throat uncomfortably. Loraine, he thought, waswonderful;simplywonderful.

“Look here,” he said awkwardly. “You mustn’t say that. About beingaloneintheworld—allthatrot.You’vegotlotsoffriends—onlytoogladtodowhattheycan.SeewhatImean?”

ItispossiblethatLorainedid,forshesuddenlyblushed,andtocoverherconfusionbegantotalknervously.

“That’s settled,” she said. “I’m going to help. Nobody’s going to stopme.”

“AndsoamI,ofcourse,”saidBundle.

TheybothlookedatJimmy.

“Yes,”hesaidslowly.“Yes,quiteso.”

Theylookedathiminquiringly.

“Iwasjustwondering,”saidJimmy,“howweweregoingtobegin.”

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Nine

PLANS

Jimmy’swordsliftedthediscussionatonceintoamorepracticalsphere.“Allthingsconsidered,”hesaid,“wehaven’tgotmuchtogoon.Infact,

just thewords SevenDials.As amatter of fact I don’t even know exactlywhereSevenDialsis.But,anyway,wecan’tverywellcomboutthewholeofthatdistrict,housebyhouse.”

“Wecould,”saidBundle.

“Well, perhapswe could eventually—though I’mnot so sure. I imagineit’sawell-populatedarea.Butitwouldn’tbeverysubtle.”

ThewordremindedhimofthegirlSocksandhesmiled.

“Then,ofcourse, there’s thepartof thecountrywhereRonnywasshot.Wecouldnosearoundthere.Butthepoliceareprobablydoingeverythingwecoulddo,anddoingitmuchbetter.”

“WhatI likeaboutyou,”saidBundlesarcastically,“isyourcheerfulandoptimisticdisposition.”

“Nevermindher,Jimmy,”saidLorainesoftly.“Goon.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” said Jimmy to Bundle. “All the best sleuthsapproach a case this way, by eliminating unnecessary and unprofitableinvestigation.I’mcomingnowtothethirdalternative—Gerald’sdeath.Nowthat we know it wasmurder—by the way, you do both believe that, don’tyou?”

“Yes,”saidLoraine.

“Yes,”saidBundle.

“Good.Sodo I.Well, it seems tome that therewedo stand some faintchance.Afterall,ifGerrydidn’ttakethechloralhimself,someonemusthavegotintohisroomandputitthere—dissolveditintheglassofwater,sothat

whenhewokeuphedrankitoff.Andofcourselefttheemptyboxorbottleorwhateveritwas.Youagreewiththat?”

“Ye—es,”saidBundleslowly.“But—”

“Wait. And that someone must have been in the house at the time. Itcouldn’tverywellhavebeensomeonefromoutside.”

“No,”agreedBundle,morereadilythistime.

“Verywell.Now,thatnarrowsdownthingsconsiderably.Tobeginwith,Isuppose a good many of the servants are family ones—they’re your lot, Imean.”

“Yes,”saidBundle.“Practicallyallthestaffstayedwhenweletit.Alltheprincipalonesare therestill—ofcourse therehavebeenchangesamong theunderservants.”

“Exactly—that’s what I am getting at. You”—he addressed Bundle—“must go into all that. Find outwhen new servantswere engaged—whataboutfootmen,forinstance?”

“Oneofthefootmenisnew.John,hisnameis.”

“Well,make inquiries about John.And about the otherswho have onlycomerecently.”

“Isuppose,”saidBundleslowly,“itmusthavebeenaservant.Itcouldn’thavebeenoneoftheguests?”

“Idon’tseehowthat’spossible.”

“Whowerethereexactly?”

“Well,therewerethreegirls—NancyandHelenandSocks—”

“SocksDaventry?Iknowher.”

“Mayhavebeen.Girlwhowasalwayssayingthingsweresubtle.”

“That’sSocksallright.Subtleisoneofherwords.”

“AndthentherewasGerryWadeandmeandBillEversleighandRonny.And,ofcourse,SirOswaldandLadyCoote.Oh!andPongo.”

“Who’sPongo?”

“ChapcalledBateman—secretary tooldCoote.Solemnsortofcovebut

veryconscientious.Iwasatschoolwithhim.”

“Theredoesn’tseemanythingverysuspiciousthere,”remarkedLoraine.

“No,theredoesn’t,”saidBundle.“Asyousay,we’llhavetolookamongsttheservants.Bytheway,youdon’tsupposethatclockbeingthrownoutofthewindowhadanythingtodowithit?”

“Aclockthrownoutofthewindow,”saidJimmy,staring.Itwasthefirsthehadheardofit.

“Ican’tseehowitcanhaveanythingtodowithit,”saidBundle.“Butit’soddsomehow.Thereseemsnosenseinit.”

“I remember,”saidJimmyslowly.“Iwent in to—toseepooroldGerry,and,thereweretheclocksrangedalongthemantelpiece.Iremembernoticingtherewereonlyseven—noteight.”

Hegaveasuddenshiverandexplainedhimselfapologetically.

“Sorry, but somehow those clocks have always givenme the shivers. Idreamof themsometimes. I’dhate togo into that roomin thedarkandseethemthereinarow.”

“Youwouldn’tbeabletoseethemifitwasdark,”saidBundlepractically.“Notunlesstheyhadluminousdials—Oh!”Shegaveasuddengaspandthecolourrushedintohercheeks.“Don’tyousee!SevenDials!”

The others looked at her doubtfully, but she insisted with increasingvehemence.

“Itmustbe.Itcan’tbeacoincidence.”

Therewasapause.

“Youmayberight,”saidJimmyThesigeratlast.“It’s—it’sdashedodd.”

Bundlestartedquestioninghimeagerly.

“Whoboughttheclocks?”

“Allofus.”

“Whothoughtofthem?”

“Allofus.”

“Nonsense,somebodymusthavethoughtofthemfirst.”

“Itdidn’thappenthatway.WewerediscussingwhatwecoulddotogetGerryup,andPongosaidanalarumclock,andsomebodysaidonewouldbeno good, and somebody else—Bill Eversleigh, I think—saidwhy not get adozen.Andweallsaidgoodeggandhoofedofftogetthem.Wegotoneeachand an extra one for Pongo and one for Lady Coote—just out of thegenerosity of our hearts. There was nothing premeditated about it—it justhappened.”

Bundlewassilenced,butnotconvinced.

Jimmyproceededtosumupmethodically.

“I thinkwecansaywe’re sureofcertain facts.There’sa secret society,withpointsof resemblance to theMafia, in existence.GerryWadecame toknowaboutit.Atfirsthetreateditasratherajoke—asanabsurdity,shallwesay. He couldn’t believe in its being really dangerous. But later somethinghappened to convincehim, and thenhegot thewindup in earnest. I ratherfancy he must have said something to Ronny Devereux about it. Anyway,whenhewasputoutoftheway,Ronnysuspected,andhemusthaveknownenoughtogetonthesametrackhimself.Theunfortunatethingisthatwe’vegottostartquitefromtheouterdarkness.Wehaven’tgottheknowledgetheothertwohad.”

“Perhaps that’sanadvantage,”saidLorainecoolly.“Theywon’t suspectusandthereforetheywon’tbetryingtoputusoutoftheway.”

“IwishIfeltsureaboutthat,”saidJimmyinaworriedvoice.“Youknow,Loraine,oldGerryhimselfwantedyoutokeepoutofit.Don’tyouthinkyoucould—”

“No,Icouldn’t,”saidLoraine.“Don’tlet’sstartdiscussingthatagain.It’sonlyawasteoftime.”

At thementionof thewordtime,Jimmy’seyesrose to theclockandheutteredanexclamationofastonishment.Heroseandopenedthedoor.

“Stevens.”

“Yes,sir?”

“Whataboutaspotoflunch,Stevens?Coulditbemanaged?”

“I anticipated that it would be required, sir. Mrs. Stevens has madepreparationsaccordingly.”

“That’sawonderfulman,”saidJimmy,ashereturned,heavingasighofrelief. “Brain, you know. Sheer brain. He takes correspondence courses. Isometimeswonderifthey’dbeanygoodtome.”

“Don’tbesilly,”saidLoraine.

Stevensopenedthedoorandproceededtobringinamostrecherchémeal.Anomelettewasfollowedbyquailsandtheverylightestthinginsoufflés.

“Why are men so happy when they’re single,” said Loraine tragically.“Whyaretheysomuchbetterlookedafterbyotherpeoplethanbyus?”

“Oh! but that’s rot, you know,” said Jimmy. “Imean, they’re not.Howcouldtheybe?Ioftenthink—”

Hestammeredandstopped.Loraineblushedagain.

SuddenlyBundleletoutawhoopandboththeothersstartedviolently.

“Idiot,”saidBundle.“Imbecile.Me,Imean.IknewtherewassomethingI’dforgotten.”

“What?”

“YouknowCodders—GeorgeLomax,Imean?”

“I’veheardofhimagooddeal,”saidJimmy.“FromBillandRonny,youknow.”

“Well,Codders is giving some sort of a dry party nextweek—andhe’shadawarningletterfromSevenDials.”

“What?”criedJimmyexcitedly,leaningforward.“Youcan’tmeanit?”

“Yes,Ido.HetoldFatheraboutit.Nowwhatdoyouthinkthatpointsto?”

Jimmyleantbackinhischair.Hethoughtrapidlyandcarefully.Atlasthespoke.Hisspeechwasbriefandtothepoint.

“Something’sgoingtohappenatthatparty,”hesaid.

“That’swhatIthink,”saidBundle.

“Itallfitsin,saidJimmyalmostdreamily.

HeturnedtoLoraine.

“Howoldwereyouwhenthewarwason?”heaskedunexpectedly.

“Nine—no,eight.”

“AndGerry,Isuppose,wasabouttwenty.Mostladsoftwentyfoughtinthewar.Gerrydidn’t.”

“No,”saidLoraine,after thinkingaminuteor two.“No,Gerrywasn’tasoldier.Idon’tknowwhy.”

“Icantellyouwhy,”saidJimmy.“OratleastIcanmakeaveryshrewdguess.HewasoutofEngland from1915 to1918. I’ve taken the trouble tofind thatout.Andnobodyseems toknowexactlywherehewas. I thinkhewasinGermany.”

The colour rose in Loraine’s cheeks. She looked at Jimmy withadmiration.

“Howcleverofyou.”

“HespokeGermanwell,didn’the?”

“Oh,yes,likeanative.”

“I’m sure I’m right. Listen you two. Gerry Wade was at the ForeignOffice.Heappeared tobe the same sortof amiable idiot—excuse the term,but you know what I mean—as Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux. Apurely ornamental excrescence. But in reality he was something quitedifferent. I think Gerry Wade was the real thing. Our secret service issupposedtobethebestintheworld.IthinkGerryWadewasprettyhighupinthat service.And that explains everything! I remember saying idly that lastevening at Chimneys that Gerry couldn’t be quite such an ass as hemadehimselfouttobe.”

“Andifyou’reright?”saidBundle,practicalasever.

“Thenthething’sbiggerthanwethought.ThisSevenDialsbusinessisn’tmerelycriminal—it’sinternational.Onething’scertain,somebodyhasgottobeatthishousepartyofLomax’s.”

Bundlemadeaslightgrimace.

“IknowGeorgewell—buthedoesn’tlikeme.He’dneverthinkofaskingmetoaseriousgathering.Allthesame,Imight—”

Sheremainedamomentlostinthought.

“DoyouthinkIcouldworkit throughBill?”askedJimmy.“He’sboundtobethereasCodder’srighthandman.Hemightbringmealongsomehoworother.”

“Idon’tseewhynot,”saidBundle.“You’llhavetoprimeBillandmakehimsaytherightthings.He’sincapableofthinkingofthemforhimself.”

“Whatdoyousuggest?”askedJimmyhumbly.

“Oh!It’squiteeasy.Billdescribesyouasarichyoungman—interestedinpolitics,anxioustostandforParliament.Georgewillfallatonce.Youknowwhatthesepoliticalpartiesare:alwayslookingfornewrichyoungmen.ThericherBillsaysyouare,theeasieritwillbetomanage.”

“ShortofbeingdescribedasRothschild,Idon’tmind,”saidJimmy.

“Then I think that’s practically settled. I’m dining with Bill tomorrownight,andI’llgetalistofwhoistobethere.Thatwillbeuseful.”

“I’msorryyoucan’tbethere,”saidJimmy.“ButonthewholeIthinkit’sallforthebest.”

“I’m not sure I shan’t be there,” said Bundle. “Codders hates me likepoison—butthereareotherways.”

Shebecamemeditative.

“Andwhataboutme?”askedLoraineinasmall,meekvoice.

“You’renoton in thisact,”saidJimmyinstantly.“See?Afterall,we’vegottohavesomeoneoutsideto—er—”

“Towhat?”saidLoraine.

Jimmydecidednottopursuethistack.HeappealedtoBundle.

“Lookhere,”hesaid,“Lorainemustkeepoutofthis,mustn’tshe?”

“Icertainlythinkshe’dbetter.”

“Nexttime,”saidJimmykindly.

“Andsupposethereisn’tanexttime?”saidLoraine.

“Oh,thereprobablywillbe.Notadoubtofit.”

“Isee.I’mjusttogohomeand—wait.”

“That’sit,”saidJimmy,witheveryappearanceofrelief.“Ithoughtyou’d

understand.”

“Yousee,”explainedBundle,“threeofusforcingourwayinmightlookrather suspicious.And youwould be particularly difficult.You do see that,don’tyou?”

“Oh,yes,”saidLoraine.

“Thenit’ssettled—youdonothing,”saidJimmy.

“Idonothing,”saidLorainemeekly.

Bundle looked at her in sudden suspicion. The tameness with whichLorainewastakingitseemedhardlynatural.Lorainelookedather.Hereyeswere blue and guileless. They met Bundle’s without a quiver even of thelashes.Bundlewasonlypartlysatisfied.ShefoundthemeeknessofLoraineWadehighlysuspicious.

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Ten

BUNDLEVISITSSCOTLANDYARD

Nowitmaybesaidatoncethatintheforegoingconversationeachoneofthe three participants had, as it were, held something in reserve. That“Nobodytellseverything”isaverytruemotto.

Itmaybequestioned,forinstance,ifLoraineWadewasperfectlysincereinheraccountofthemotiveswhichhadledhertoseekoutJimmyThesiger.

In the same way, Jimmy Thesiger himself had various ideas and plansconnectedwith the forthcoming party atGeorgeLomax’swhich he had nointentionofrevealingto—say,Bundle.

AndBundle herself had a fully-fledgedplanwhich she proposed to putintoimmediateexecutionandwhichshehadsaidnothingwhateverabout.

On leavingJimmyThesiger’s rooms,shedrove toScotlandYard,wheresheaskedforSuperintendentBattle.

SuperintendentBattlewasratherabigman.Heworkedalmostentirelyoncasesofadelicatepoliticalnature.OnsuchacasehehadcometoChimneysfouryearsago,andBundlewasfranklytradingonhisrememberingthisfact.

After a short delay, she was taken along several corridors and into theSuperintendent’s private room. Battle was a stolid-looking man with awooden face. He looked supremely unintelligent and more like acommissionairethanadetective.

He was standing by the window when she entered, gazing in anexpressionlessmanneratsomesparrows.

“Goodafternoon,LadyEileen,”hesaid.“Sitdown,won’tyou?”

“Thankyou,”saidBundle.“Iwasafraidyoumightn’trememberme.”

“Alwaysrememberpeople,”saidBattle.Headded:“Gottoinmyjob.”

“Oh!”saidBundle,ratherdamped.

“AndwhatcanIdoforyou?”inquiredtheSuperintendent.

Bundlecamestraighttothepoint.

“I’vealwaysheardthatyoupeopleatScotlandYardhavelistsofallsecretsocietiesandthingslikethatthatareformedinLondon.”

“Wetrytokeepuptodate,”saidSuperintendentBattlecautiously.

“Isupposeagreatmanyofthemaren’treallydangerous.”

“We’vegotaverygoodruletogoby,”saidBattle.“Themoretheytalk,thelessthey’lldo.You’dbesurprisedhowwellthatworksout.”

“AndI’veheardthatveryoftenyouletthemgoon?”

Battlenodded.

“That’s so.Why shouldn’t aman call himself aBrother of Liberty andmeet twice aweek in a cellar and talk about riversof blood—itwon’t hurteitherhimorus.Andifthereistroubleanytime,weknowwheretolayourhandsonhim.”

“Butsometimes,Isuppose,”saidBundleslowly,“asocietymaybemoredangerousthananyoneimagines?”

“Veryunlikely,”saidBattle.

“Butitmighthappen,”persistedBundle.

“Oh,itmight,”admittedtheSuperintendent.

Therewasamomentortwo’ssilence.ThenBundlesaidquietly:

“SuperintendentBattle, could you giveme a list of secret societies thathavetheirheadquartersinSevenDials?”

ItwasSuperintendentBattle’sboastthathehadneverbeenseentodisplayemotion. But Bundle could have sworn that just for a moment his eyelidsflickeredandhelookedtakenback.Onlyforamoment,however.Hewashisusualwoodenselfashesaid:

“Strictly speaking, Lady Eileen, there’s no such place as Seven Dialsnowadays.”

“No?”

“No.Most of it is pulled down and rebuilt. Itwas rather a low quarter

once,butit’sveryrespectableandhighclassnowadays.Notatallaromanticspottopokeaboutinformysterioussecretsocieties.”

“Oh!”saidBundle,rathernonplussed.

“But all the same I should very much like to know what put thatneighbourhoodintoyourhead,LadyEileen.”

“HaveIgottotellyou?”

“Well,itsavestrouble,doesn’tit?Weknowwhereweare,sotospeak.”

Bundlehesitatedforaminute.

“Therewasamanshotyesterday,”shesaidslowly.“I thoughtIhadrunoverhim—”

“Mr.RonaldDevereux?”

“You know about it, of course. Why has there been nothing in thepapers?”

“Doyoureallywanttoknowthat,LadyEileen?”

“Yes,please.”

“Well,wejustthoughtweshouldliketohaveacleartwenty-fourhours—see?Itwillbeinthepaperstomorrow.”

“Oh!”Bundlestudiedhim,puzzled.

Whatwashiddenbehindthatimmovableface?DidheregardtheshootingofRonaldDevereuxasanordinarycrimeorasanextraordinaryone?

“HementionedSevenDialswhenhewasdying,”saidBundleslowly.

“Thankyou,”saidBattle.“I’llmakeanoteofthat.”

Hewroteafewwordsontheblottingpadinfrontofhim.

Bundlestartedonanothertack.

“Mr.Lomax,Iunderstand,cametoseeyouyesterdayaboutathreateningletterhehadhad.”

“Hedid.”

“AndthatwaswrittenfromSevenDials.”

“IthadSevenDialswrittenatthetopifit,Ibelieve.”

Bundlefeltasthoughshewasbatteringhopelesslyonalockeddoor.

“Ifyou’llletmeadviseyou,LadyEileen—”

“Iknowwhatyou’regoingtosay.”

“Ishouldgohomeand—well,thinknomoreaboutthesematters.”

“Leaveittoyou,infact?”

“Well,”saidSuperintendentBattle,“afterall,wearetheprofessionals.”

“AndI’monlyanamateur?Yes,butyouforgetonething—Imayn’thaveyourknowledgeandskill—butIhaveoneadvantageoveryou.Icanworkinthedark.”

ShethoughtthattheSuperintendentseemedalittletakenaback,asthoughtheforceofherwordsstruckhome.

“Ofcourse,”saidBundle,“ifyouwon’tgivemealistofsecretsocieties—”

“Oh!Ineversaidthat.Youshallhavealistofthewholelot.”

Hewenttothedoor,puthisheadthroughandcalledoutsomething,thencame back to his chair. Bundle, rather unreasonably, felt baffled. The easewith which he acceded to her request seemed to her suspicious. He waslookingathernowinaplacidfashion.

“DoyourememberthedeathofMr.GeraldWade?”sheaskedabruptly.

“Down at your place, wasn’t it? Took an overdraught of sleepingmixture.”

“Hissistersayshenevertookthingstomakehimsleep.”

“Ah!” said theSuperintendent. “You’dbe surprisedwhat a lotof thingstherearethatsistersdon’tknow.”

Bundle again felt baffled. She sat in silence till a man came in with atypewrittensheetofpaper,whichhehandedtotheSuperintendent.

“Here you are,” said the latter when the other had left the room. “TheBloodBrothersofSt.Sebastian.TheWolfHounds.TheComradesofPeace.TheComradesClub.TheFriends ofOppression.TheChildren ofMoscow.TheRedStandardBearers.TheHerrings.TheComradesof theFallen—andhalfadozenmore.”

Hehandedittoherwithadistincttwinkleinhiseye.

“Yougiveittome,”saidBundle,“becauseyouknowit’snotgoingtobetheslightestusetome.Doyouwantmetoleavethewholethingalone?”

“Ishouldpreferit,”saidBattle.“Yousee—ifyougomessingaroundalltheseplaces—well,it’sgoingtogiveusalotoftrouble.”

“Lookingafterme,youmean?”

“Lookingafteryou,LadyEileen.”

Bundlehadrisentoherfeet.Nowshestoodundecided.SofarthehonourslaywithSuperintendentBattle.Thensherememberedoneslightincident,andshebasedherlastappealuponit.

“I said just now that an amateur could do some things which aprofessional couldn’t. You didn’t contradict me. That’s because you’re anhonestman,SuperintendentBattle.YouknewIwasright.”

“Goon,”saidBattlequickly.

“AtChimneysyouletmehelp.Won’tyouletmehelpnow?”

Battleseemedtobeturningthethingoverinhismind.Emboldenedbyhissilence,Bundlecontinued.

“Youknowprettywellwhat I’m like, SuperintendentBattle. I butt intothings. I’maNosyParker. Idon’twant toget inyourwayor to tryanddothingsthatyou’redoingandcandoagreatdealbetter.Butifthere’sachanceforanamateur,letmehaveit.”

Againtherewasapause,andthenSuperintendentBattlesaidquietly:

“Youcouldn’thavespoken fairer thanyouhavedone,LadyEileen.ButI’mjustgoingtosaythistoyou.Whatyouproposeisdangerous.AndwhenIsaydangerous,Imeandangerous.”

“I’vegraspedthat,”saidBundle.“I’mnotafool.”

“No,” said Superintendent Battle. “Never knew a young lady who waslessso.WhatI’lldoforyou,LadyEileen,isthis.I’lljustgiveyouonelittlehint. And I’m doing it because I never have thought much of the motto‘Safety First.’ Inmy opinion all the peoplewho spend their lives avoidingbeingrunoverbybuseshadmuchbetterberunoverandputsafelyoutofthe

way.They’renogood.”

This remarkable utterance issuing from the conventional lips ofSuperintendentBattlequitetookBundle’sbreathaway.

“Whatwasthathintyouweregoingtogiveme?”sheaskedatlast.

“YouknowMr.Eversleigh,don’tyou?”

“KnowBill?Why,ofcourse,Butwhat—?”

“IthinkMr.BillEversleighwillbeabletotellyouallyouwanttoknowaboutSevenDials.”

“Billknowsaboutit?Bill?”

“Ididn’tsaythat.Notatall.ButIthink,beingaquick-wittedyounglady,you’llgetwhatyouwantfromhim.

“And now,” said Superintendent Battle firmly, “I’m not going to sayanotherword.”

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Eleven

DINNERWITHBILL

BundlesetouttokeepherappointmentwithBillonthefollowingeveningfullofexpectation.

Billgreetedherwitheverysignofelation.

“Bill really is rathernice,” thoughtBundle toherself. “Just like a large,clumsydogthatwagsitstailwhenit’spleasedtoseeyou.”

The large dog was uttering short staccato yelps of comment andinformation.

“Youlooktremendouslyfit,Bundle.Ican’ttellyouhowpleasedIamtosee you. I’ve ordered oysters—you do like oysters, don’t you? And how’severything?Whatdidyouwanttogomoulderingaboutabroadsolong?Wereyouhavingaverygaytime?”

“No,deadly,”saidBundle.“Perfectlyfoul.Olddiseasedcolonelscreepingabout in the sun, and active, wizened spinsters running libraries andchurches.”

“Give me England,” said Bill. “I bar this foreign business—exceptSwitzerland. Switzerland’s all right. I’m thinking of going this Christmas.Whydon’tyoucomealong?”

“I’ll think about it,” said Bundle. “What have you been doing withyourselflately,Bill?”

Itwasan incautiousquery.Bundlehadmerelymade itoutofpolitenessand as a preliminary to introducing her own topics of conversation. Itwas,however,theopeningforwhichBillhadbeenwaiting.

“That’s just what I’ve been wanting to tell you about. You’re brainy,Bundle,and Iwantyouradvice.Youknow thatmusical show, ‘DamnYourEyes?’”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you about one of the dirtiest pieces of workimaginable.MyGod! the theatricalcrowd.There’sagirl—aYankeegirl—aperfectstunner—”

Bundle’s heart sank. The grievances of Bill’s lady friends were alwaysinterminable—theywentonandonandtherewasnostemmingthem.

“Thisgirl,BabeSt.Maurhernameis—”

“Iwonderhowshegothername?”saidBundlesarcastically.

Billrepliedliterally.

“ShegotitoutofWho’sWho.Openeditandjabbedherfingerdownonapage without looking. Pretty nifty, eh? Her real name’s Goldschmidt orAbrameier—somethingquiteimpossible.”

“Oh,quite,”agreedBundle.

“Well,BabeSt.Maurisprettysmart.Andshe’sgotmuscles.Shewasoneoftheeightgirlswhomadethelivingbridge—”

“Bill,”saidBundledesperately.“IwenttoseeJimmyThesigeryesterdaymorning.”

“Goodold Jimmy,” saidBill. “Well, as Iwas telling you,Babe’s prettysmart. You’ve got to be nowadays. She can put it over on most theatricalpeople.Ifyouwanttolive,behigh-handed,that’swhatBabesays.Andmindyou,she’sthegoodsallright.Shecanact—it’smarvelloushowthatgirlcanact.She’dnotmuchchancein‘DamnYourEyes’—justswampedinapackofgood-lookinggirls. Isaidwhynot try the legitimatestage—youknow,Mrs.Tanqueray—thatsortofstuff—butBabejustlaughed—”

“HaveyouseenJimmyatall?”

“Sawhimthismorning.Letmesee,wherewasI?Oh,yes,Ihadn’tgottotherumpusyet.Andmindyouitwasjealousy—sheer,spitefuljealousy.Theother girl wasn’t a patch on Babe for looks and she knew it. So she wentbehindherback—”

Bundleresignedherselftotheinevitableandheardthewholestoryoftheunfortunate circumstances which had led up to Babe St. Maur’s summarydisappearancefromthecastof“DamnYourEyes.”Ittookalongtime.When

Billfinallypausedforbreathandsympathy,Bundlesaid:

“You’re quite right, Bill, it’s a rotten shame. There must be a lot ofjealousyabout—”

“Thewholetheatricalworld’srottenwithit.”

“Itmust be.Did Jimmy say anything toyou about comingdown to theAbbeynextweek?”

Forthefirsttime,BillgavehisattentiontowhatBundlewassaying.

“Hewas full of a long rigmarole he wantedme to stuff Codders with.AboutwantingtostandintheConservativeinterest.Butyouknow,Bundle,it’stoodamnedrisky.”

“Stuff,”saidBundle.“IfGeorgedoesfindhimout,hewon’tblameyou.You’lljusthavebeentakenin,that’sall.”

“That’snotitatall,”saidBill.“Imeanit’stoodamnedriskyforJimmy.Beforeheknowswhereheis,he’llbeparkeddownsomewherelikeTootingEast, pledged to kiss babies and make speeches. You don’t know howthoroughCoddersisandhowfrightfullyenergetic.”

“Well, we’ll have to risk that,” said Bundle. “Jimmy can take care ofhimselfallright.”

“Youdon’tknowCodders,”repeatedBill.

“Who’scomingtothisparty,Bill?Isitanythingveryspecial?”

“Onlytheusualsortofmuck.Mrs.Macattaforone.”

“TheM.P.?”

“Yes,youknow,alwaysgoingoff thedeependaboutWelfare andPureMilkandSavetheChildren.ThinkofpoorJimmybeingtalkedtobyher.”

“NevermindJimmy.Goontellingme.”

“Thenthere’stheHungarian,whattheycallaYoungHungarian.Countesssomethingunpronounceable.She’sallright.”

Heswallowedas thoughembarrassed,andBundleobserved thathewascrumblinghisbreadnervously.

“Youngandbeautiful?”sheinquireddelicately.

“Oh,rather.”

“Ididn’tknowGeorgewentinforfemalebeautymuch.”

“Oh,hedoesn’t.She runsbabyfeeding inBudaPesth—something likethat.NaturallysheandMrs.Macattawanttogettogether.”

“Whoelse?”

“SirStanleyDigby—”

“TheAirMinister?”

“Yes.Andhissecretary,TerenceO’Rourke.He’sratheralad,bytheway—orusedtobeinhisflyingdays.Thenthere’saperfectlypoisonousGermanchapcalledHerrEberhard.Idon’tknowwhoheis,butwe’reallmakingthehellofafussabouthim.I’vebeentwicetoldofftotakehimouttolunch,andIcantellyou,Bundle,itwasnojoke.He’snotliketheEmbassychaps,whoareallverydecent.Thismansucks insoupandeatspeaswithaknife.Notonly that,but thebrute isalwaysbitinghisfingernails—positivelygnawsatthem.”

“Prettyfoul.”

“Isn’tit?Ibelieveheinventsthings—somethingofthekind.Well,that’sall.Oh,yes,SirOswaldCoote.”

“AndLadyCoote?”

“Yes,Ibelieveshe’scomingtoo.”

Bundlesatlostinthoughtforsomeminutes.Bill’slistwassuggestive,butshehadn’ttimetothinkoutvariouspossibilitiesjustnow.Shemustgetontothenextpoint.

“Bill,”shesaid,“what’sallthisaboutSevenDials?”

Bill at once looked horribly embarrassed. He blinked and avoided herglance.

“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”hesaid.

“Nonsense,”saidBundle.“Iwastoldyouknowallaboutit.”

“Aboutwhat?”

Thiswasratheraposer.Bundleshiftedherground.

“Idon’tseewhatyouwanttobesosecretivefor,”shecomplained.

“Nothingtobesecretiveabout.Nobodygoestheremuchnow.Itwasonlyacraze.”

Thissoundedpuzzling.

“Onegetssooutofthingswhenoneisaway,”saidBundleinasadvoice.

“Oh,youhaven’tmissedmuch,” saidBill. “Everyonewent there just tosay they had been. Itwas boring really, and,myGod, youcan get tired offriedfish.”

“Wheredideveryonego?”

“TotheSevenDialsClub,ofcourse,”saidBill,staring.“Wasn’tthatwhatyouwereaskingabout?”

“Ididn’tknowitbythatname,”saidBundle.

“UsedtobeaslummysortofdistrictroundaboutTottenhamCourtRoadway.It’sallpulleddownandcleanedupnow.ButtheSevenDialsClubkeepstotheoldatmosphere.Friedfishandchips.Generalsqualor.KindofEastEndstunt,butawfullyhandytogetatafterashow.”

“It’sanightclub,Isuppose,”saidBundle.“Dancingandallthat?”

“That’sit.Awfullymixedcrowd.Notaposhaffair.Artists,youknow,andall sorts of oddwomen and a sprinkling of our lot.They say quite a lot ofthings,butI thinkthat that’sallbunkummyself, justsaidtomaketheplacego.”

“Good,”saidBundle.“We’llgotheretonight.”

“Oh! I shouldn’tdo that,” saidBill.Hisembarrassmenthad returned.“Itellyouit’splayedout.Nobodygoestherenow.”

“Well,we’regoing.”

“Youwouldn’tcareforit,Bundle.Youwouldn’treally.”

“You’regoingtotakemetotheSevenDialsClubandnowhereelse,Bill.AndIshouldliketoknowwhyyouaresounwilling?”

“I?Unwilling?”

“Painfullyso.What’stheguiltysecret?”

“Guiltysecret?”

“Don’tkeeprepeatingwhatIsay.Youdoittogiveyourselftime.”

“Idon’t,”saidBillindignantly.“It’sonly—”

“Well?Iknowthere’ssomething.Younevercanconcealanything.”

“I’vegotnothingtoconceal.It’sonly—”

“Well?”

“It’salongstory—Yousee,ItookBabeSt.Maurthereonenight—”

“Oh!BabeSt.Mauragain.”

“Whynot?”

“Ididn’tknowitwasabouther—”saidBundle,stiflingayawn.

“AsIsay,ItookBabethere.Sheratherfanciedalobster.Ihadalobsterundermyarm—”

Thestorywenton—WhenthelobsterhadbeenfinallydismemberedinastrugglebetweenBillandafellowwhowasarankoutsider,Bundlebroughtherattentionbacktohim.

“Isee,”shesaid.“Andtherewasarow?”

“Yes,but itwasmy lobster. I’dbought itandpaidfor it. Ihadaperfectright—”

“Oh, you had, you had,” said Bundle hastily. “But I’m sure that’s allforgottennow.AndIdon’tcareforlobstersanyway.Solet’sgo.”

“Wemayberaidedbythepolice.There’saroomupstairswheretheyplaybaccarat.”

“Fatherwillhavetocomeandbailmeout,that’sall.Comeon,Bill.”

Billstillseemedratherreluctant,butBundlewasadamantandtheyweresoonspeedingtotheirdestinationinataxi.

Theplace,whentheygottoit,wasmuchassheimagineditwouldbe.Itwas a tall house in a narrow street, 14 Hunstanton Street; she noted thenumber.

Amanwhosefacewasstrangelyfamiliaropenedthedoor.Shethoughthestarted slightly when he saw her, but he greeted Bill with respectful

recognition.Hewasatallman,withfairhair,aratherweak,anaemicfaceandslightlyshiftyeyes.Bundlepuzzledtoherselfwhereshecouldhaveseenhimbefore.

Bill had recovered his equilibrium now and quite enjoyed doingshowman.Theydancedinthecellar,whichwasveryfullofsmoke—somuchso that you saw everyone through a blue haze.The smell of fried fishwasalmostoverpowering.

On thewallwere rough charcoal sketches, someof themexecutedwithrealtalent.Thecompanywasextremelymixed.Therewereportlyforeigners,opulent Jewesses, a sprinkling of the really smart, and several ladiesbelongingtotheoldestprofessionintheworld.

SoonBill ledBundleupstairs.There theweak-facedmanwasonguard,watchingallthoseadmittedtothegamblingroomwithalynxeye.SuddenlyrecognitioncametoBundle.

“Of course,” she said. “How stupid of me. It’s Alfred who used to besecondfootmanatChimneys.Howareyou,Alfred?”

“Nicely,thankyou,yourLadyship.”

“When did you leave Chimneys, Alfred? Was it long before we gotback?”

“Itwasaboutamonthago,m’lady.Igotachanceofbetteringmyself,anditseemedapitynottotakeit.”

“Isupposetheypayyouverywellhere,”remarkedBundle.

“Veryfair,m’lady.”

Bundle passed in. It seemed to her that in this room the real life of theclubwasexposed.Thestakeswerehigh,shesawthatatonce,andthepeoplegatheredroundthetwotableswereofthetruetype.Hawkeyed,haggard,withthegamblingfeverintheirblood.

SheandBillstayedhereforabouthalfanhour.ThenBillgrewrestive.

“Let’sgetoutofthisplace,Bundle,andgoondancing.”

Bundleagreed.Therewasnothingtobeseenhere.Theywentdownagain.They danced for another half hour, had fish and chips, and then Bundledeclaredherselfreadytogohome.

“Butit’ssoearly,”Billprotested.

“No,itisn’t.Notreally.And,anyway,I’vegotalongdayinfrontofmetomorrow.”

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”

“Thatdepends,”saidBundlemysteriously.“But Ican tellyou this,Bill,thegrassisnotgoingtogrowundermyfeet.”

“Itneverdoes,”saidMr.Eversleigh.

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Twelve

INQUIRIESATCHIMNEYS

Bundle’s temperament was certainly not inherited from her father, whoseprevailingcharacteristicwasawhollyamiableinertia.AsBillEversleighhadveryjustlyremarked,thegrassneverdidgrowunderBundle’sfeet.

On the morning following her dinner with Bill, Bundle woke full ofenergy.Shehadthreedistinctplanswhichshemeanttoputintooperationthatday,andsherealizedthatshewasgoingtobeslightlyhamperedbythelimitsoftimeandspace.

Fortunatelyshedidnotsuffer fromtheafflictionofGerryWade,RonnyDevereux and Jimmy Thesiger—that of not being able to get up in themorning.SirOswaldCootehimselfwouldhavehadnofaulttofindwithheronthescoreofearlyrising.AthalfpasteightBundlehadbreakfastedandwasonherwaytoChimneysintheHispano.

Herfatherseemedmildlypleasedtoseeher.

“Ineverknowwhenyou’regoingtoturnup,”hesaid.“Butthiswillsavemeringingup,which Ihate.ColonelMelrosewashereyesterdayabout theinquest.”

ColonelMelrosewasChiefConstableofthecounty,andanoldfriendofLordCaterham.

“YoumeantheinquestofRonnyDevereux?Whenisittobe?”

“Tomorrow.Twelveo’clock.Melrosewillcallforyou.Havingfoundthebody,you’llhavetogiveevidence,buthesaidyouneedn’tbeatallalarmed.”

“WhyonearthshouldIbealarmed?”

“Well, youknow,” saidLordCaterhamapologetically, “Melrose is a bitold-fashioned.”

“Twelveo’clock,”saidBundle.“Good.Ishallbehere,ifI’mstillalive.”

“Haveyouanyreasontoanticipatenotbeingalive?”

“One never knows,” said Bundle. “The strain of modern life—as thenewspaperssay.”

“Which remindsme thatGeorge Lomax askedme to come over to theAbbeynextweek.Irefused,ofcourse.”

“Quite right,” saidBundle. “Wedon’twant youmixedup in any funnybusiness.”

“Is theregoing tobeany funnybusiness?”askedLordCaterhamwithasuddenawakeningofinterest.

“Well—warninglettersandallthat,youknow,”saidBundle.

“Perhaps George is going to be assassinated,” said Lord Caterhamhopefully.“Whatdoyouthink,Bundle—perhapsI’dbettergoafterall.”

“You curb your bloodthirsty instincts and stay quietly at home,” saidBundle.“I’mgoingtotalktoMrs.Howell.”

Mrs. Howell was the housekeeper, that dignified, creaking lady whostruckterrortotheheartofLadyCoote.ShehadnoterrorforBundle,whom,indeed,shealwayscalledMissBundle,arelicofthedayswhenBundlehadstayed at Chimneys, a long-legged, impish child, before her father hadsucceededtothetitle.

“Now,Howelly,” saidBundle, “let’s have a cup of rich cocoa together,andletmehearallthehouseholdnews.”

She gleaned what she wanted without much difficulty, making mentalnotesasfollows:

“Twonewscullerymaids—villagegirls—doesn’tseemmuchthere.Newthird housemaid—head housemaid’s niece. That sounds all right. HowellyseemstohavebulliedpoorLadyCooteagooddeal.Shewould.”

“I never thought the day would come when I should see Chimneysinhabitedbystrangers,MissBundle.”

“Oh! one must go with the times,” said Bundle. “You’ll be lucky,Howelly,ifyouneverseeitconvertedintodesirableflatswithuseofsuperbpleasuregrounds.”

Mrs.Howellsshiveredalldownherreactionaryaristocraticspine.

“I’veneverseenSirOswaldCoote,”remarkedBundle.

“Sir Oswald is no doubt a very clever gentleman,” said Mrs. Howellsdistantly.

BundlegatheredthatSirOswaldhadnotbeenlikedbyhisstaff.

“Of course, itwasMr.Batemanwho saw to everything,” continued thehousekeeper.“Averyefficientgentleman.Averyefficientgentlemanindeed,andonewhoknewthewaythingsoughttobedone.”

BundleledthetalkontothetopicofGeraldWade’sdeath.Mrs.Howellwasonlytoowillingtotalkaboutit,andwasfullofpityingejaculationsaboutthe poor young gentleman, but Bundle gleaned nothing new. Presently shetook leaveofMrs.Howell andcamedownstairs again,where shepromptlyrangforTredwell.

“Tredwell,whendidArthurleave?”

“Itwouldbeaboutamonthagonow,mylady.”

“Whydidheleave?”

“Itwasbyhisownwish,mylady.IbelievehehasgonetoLondon.Iwasnotdissatisfiedwithhiminanyway.Ithinkyouwillfindthenewfootman,John,verysatisfactory.Heseemstoknowhisworkandtobemostanxioustogivesatisfaction.”

“Wheredidhecomefrom?”

“Hehadexcellentreferences,mylady.HehadlivedlastwithLordMountVernon.”

“Isee,”saidBundlethoughtfully.

She was remembering that Lord Mount Vernon was at present on ashootingtripinEastAfrica.

“What’shislastname,Tredwell?”

“Bower,mylady.”

Tredwell paused for aminute or two and then, seeing that Bundle hadfinished,hequietlylefttheroom.Bundleremainedlostinthought.

Johnhadopenedthedoortoheronherarrivalthatday,andshehadtakenparticular notice of him without seeming to do so. Apparently he was theperfectservant,well-trained,withanexpressionlessface.Hehad,perhaps,amore soldierly bearing thanmost footmen and therewas something a littleoddabouttheshapeofthebackofhishead.

Butthesedetails,asBundlerealized,werehardlyrelevanttothesituation.Shesatfrowningdownattheblottingpaperinfrontofher.ShehadapencilinherhandandwasidlytracingthenameBoweroverandoveragain.

Suddenly an idea struck her and she stopped dead, staring at theword.ThenshesummonedTredwelloncemore.

“Tredwell,howisthenameBowerspelt?”

“B-A-U-E-R,mylady.”

“That’snotanEnglishname.”

“IbelieveheisofSwissextraction,mylady.”

“Oh!That’sall,Tredwell,thankyou.”

Swissextraction?No.German!Thatmartialcarriage,thatflatbacktothehead.AndhehadcometoChimneysafortnightbeforeGerryWade’sdeath.

Bundlerosetoherfeet.Shehaddoneallshecouldhere.Nowtogetonwiththings!Shewentinsearchofherfather.

“I’moffagain,”shesaid.“I’vegottogoandseeAuntMarcia.”

“Got to seeMarcia?” Lord Caterham’s voice was full of astonishment.“Poorchild,howdidyougetletinforthat?”

“Justforonce,”saidBundle,“Ihappentobegoingofmyownfreewill.”

Lord Caterham looked at her in amazement. That anyone could have agenuine desire to face his redoubtable sister-in-law was quiteincomprehensibletohim.Marcia,MarchionessofCaterham,thewidowofhislatebrotherHenry,wasaveryprominentpersonality.LordCaterhamadmittedthat she had made Henry an admirable wife and that but for her in allprobability he would never have held the office of Secretary of State forForeignAffairs.Ontheotherhand,hehadalwayslookeduponHenry’searlydeathasamercifulrelease.

ItseemedtohimthatBundlewasfoolishlyputtingherheadintothelion’smouth.

“Oh!Isay,”hesaid.“Youknow,Ishouldn’tdothat.Youdon’tknowwhatitmayleadto.”

“I knowwhat I hope it’s going to lead to,” saidBundle. “I’m all right,Father,don’tyouworryaboutme.”

LordCaterhamsighedandsettledhimselfmorecomfortablyinhischair.He went back to his perusal of theField. But in a minute or two Bundlesuddenlyputherheadinagain.

“Sorry,”shesaid.“Butthere’soneotherthingIwantedtoaskyou.WhatisSirOswaldCoote?”

“Itoldyou—asteamroller.”

“I don’t mean your personal impression of him. How did he make hismoney—trouserbuttonsorbrassbedsorwhat?”

“Oh,Isee.He’ssteel.Steelandiron.He’sgotthebiggeststeelworks,orwhatever you call it, in England. He doesn’t, of course, run the showpersonallynow.It’sacompanyorcompanies.Hegotmeinasadirectorofsomething or other. Very good business for me—nothing to do except godownto thecityonceor twiceayear tooneof thosehotelplaces—CannonStreetorLiverpoolStreet—andsitaroundatablewheretheyhaveverynicenewblottingpaper.ThenCooteorsomecleverJohnnymakesaspeechsimplybristlingwithfigures,butfortunatelyyouneedn’t listento it—andIcantellyou,youoftengetajollygoodlunchoutofit.”

Uninterested in Lord Caterham’s lunches, Bundle had departed againbefore he had finished speaking. On theway back to London, she tried topiecetogetherthingstohersatisfaction.

Asfarasshecouldsee,steelandinfantwelfaredidnotgotogether.Oneofthetwo,then,wasjustpadding—presumablythelatter.Mrs.MacattaandtheHungariancountesscouldbe ruledoutofcourt.Theywerecamouflage.No,thepivotofthewholethingseemedtobetheunattractiveHerrEberhard.HedidnotseemtobethetypeofmanwhomGeorgeLomaxwouldnormallyinvite. Bill had said vaguely that he invented. Then there was the AirMinister, and Sir Oswald Coote, who was steel. Somehow that seemed to

hangtogether.

Since it was useless speculating further, Bundle abandoned the attemptandconcentratedonherforthcominginterviewwithLadyCaterham.

The lady lived ina largegloomyhouse inoneofLondon’shigher-classsquares.Insideitsmeltofsealingwax,birdseedandslightlydecayedflowers.Lady Caterham was a large woman—large in every way. Her proportionswere majestic, rather than ample. She had a large beaked nose, woregoldrimmedpince-nezandherupperlipborejust thefaintestsuspicionofamoustache.

Shewas somewhat surprised to see her niece, but accordedher a frigidcheek,whichBundledulykissed.

“Thisisquiteanunexpectedpleasure,Eileen,”sheobservedcoldly.

“We’veonlyjustgotback,AuntMarcia.”

“Iknow.Howisyourfather?Muchasusual?”

Her tone conveyed disparagement. She had a poor opinion of AlastairEdwardBrent,ninthMarquisofCaterham.Shewouldhavecalledhim,hadsheknowntheterm,a“poorfish.”

“Fatherisverywell.He’sdownatChimneys.”

“Indeed.Youknow,Eileen,IneverapprovedofthelettingofChimneys.The place is in many ways a historical monument. It should not becheapened.”

“ItmusthavebeenwonderfulinUncleHenry’sdays,”saidBundlewithaslightsigh.

“Henryrealizedhisresponsibilities,”saidHenry’swidow.

“Thinkofthepeoplewhostayedthere,”wentonBundleecstatically.“AlltheprincipalstatesmenofEurope.”

LadyCaterhamsighed.

“I can truly say that history has beenmade theremore than once,” sheobserved.“Ifonlyyourfather—”

Sheshookherheadsadly.

“Politics bore father,” said Bundle, “and yet they are about the most

fascinating study there is, I should say. Especially if one knew about themfromtheinside.”

Shemadethisextravagantlyuntruthfulstatementofherfeelingswithoutevenablush.Herauntlookedatherwithsomesurprise.

“Iampleasedtohearyousayso,”shesaid.“Ialwaysimagined,Eileen,thatyoucaredfornothingbutthismodernpursuitofpleasure.”

“Iusedto,”saidBundle.

“Itistruethatyouarestillveryyoung,”saidLadyCaterhamthoughtfully.“Butwithyouradvantages,andifyouweretomarrysuitably,youmightbeoneoftheleadingpoliticalhostessesoftheday.”

Bundlefeltslightlyalarmed.Foramomentshefearedthatherauntmightproduceasuitablehusbandstraightaway.

“ButIfeelsuchafool,”saidBundle.“Imean,Iknowsolittle.”

“Thatcaneasilyberemedied,”saidLadyCaterhambriskly.“IhaveanyamountofliteratureIcanlendyou.”

“Thank you, Aunt Marcia,” said Bundle, and proceeded hastily to hersecondlineofattack.

“IwonderedifyouknewMrs.Macatta,AuntMarcia?”

“Certainly Iknowher.Amostestimablewomanwithabrilliantbrain. Imay say that as a general rule I do not hold with women standing forParliament.Theycanmaketheirinfluencefeltinamorewomanlyfashion.”Shepaused,doubtless torecall thewomanlywayinwhichshehadforcedareluctant husband into thepolitical arena and themarvellous successwhichhadcrownedhisandherefforts.“Butstill,timeschange.AndtheworkMrs.Macattaisdoingisoftrulynationalimportance,andoftheutmostvaluetoallwomen.Itis,IthinkImaysay,truewomanlywork.YoumustcertainlymeetMrs.Macatta.”

Bundlegavearatherdismalsigh.

“She’s going to be at a house party at George Lomax’s next week. Heasked father,who, of course,won’t go, but henever thoughtof askingme.ThinksI’mtoomuchofanidiot,Isuppose.”

It occurred to Lady Caterham that her niece was really wonderfully

improved.Hadshe,perhaps,hadanunfortunate loveaffair?Anunfortunatelove affair, in Lady Caterham’s opinion, was so often highly beneficial toyounggirls.Itmadethemtakelifeseriously.

“I don’t supposeGeorgeLomax realizes for amoment that youhave—shallwesay,grownup?Eileendear”shesaid,“Imusthaveafewwordswithhim.”

“Hedoesn’tlikeme,”saidBundle.“Iknowhewon’taskme.”

“Nonsense,” said Lady Caterham. “I shall make a point of it. I knewGeorge Lomax when he was so high.” She indicated a quite impossibleheight.“Hewillbeonlytoopleasedtodomeafavour.Andhewillbesuretoseeforhimselfthatitisvitallyimportantthatthepresent-dayyounggirlsofour own class should take an intelligent interest in the welfare of theircountry.”

Bundlenearlysaid:“Hear,hear,”butcheckedherself.

“Iwillfindyousomeliteraturenow,”saidLadyCaterham,rising.

Shecalledinapiercingvoice:“MissConnor.”

A very neat secretarywith a frightened expression came running. LadyCaterhamgavehervariousdirections.PresentlyBundlewasdrivingbacktoBrookStreetwithanarmfulofthedriest-lookingliteratureimaginable.

HernextproceedingwastoringupJimmyThesiger.Hisfirstwordswerefulloftriumph.

“I’vemanagedit,”hesaid.“HadalotoftroublewithBill,though.He’dgotitintohisthickheadthatIshouldbealambamongwolves.ButImadehimseesenseatlast.I’vegotalotofthingummybobsnowandI’mstudyingthem.Youknow,bluebooksandwhitepapers.Deadlydull—butonemustdothethingproperly.HaveyoueverheardoftheSantaFéboundarydispute?”

“Never,”saidBundle.

“Well, I’m taking special painswith that. Itwent on for years andwasvery complicated. I’m making it my subject. Nowadays one has tospecialize.”

“I’vegotalotofthesamesortofthings,”saidBundle.“AuntMarciagavethemtome.”

“Auntwho?”

“AuntMarica—Father’s sister-in-law. She’s very political. In fact, she’sgoingtogetmeinvitedtoGeorge’sparty.”

“No?Oh,Isay,thatwillbesplendid.”TherewasapauseandthenJimmysaid:

“Isay,Idon’tthinkwe’dbettertellLorainethat—eh?”

“Perhapsnot.”

“Yousee,shemayn’tlikebeingoutofit.Andshereallymustbekeptoutofit.”

“Yes.”

“Imeanyoucan’tletagirllikethatrunintodanger!”

Bundle reflected that Mr. Thesiger was slightly deficient in tact. Theprospect of her running into danger did not seem to give him any qualmswhatever.

“Haveyougoneaway?”askedJimmy.

“No,Iwasonlythinking.”

“Isee.Isay,areyougoingtotheinquesttomorrow?”

“Yes,areyou?”

“Yes.Bytheway,it’sintheeveningpapers.Buttuckedawayinacorner.Funny—Ishouldhavethoughtthey’dhavemaderatherasplashaboutit.”

“Yes—soshouldI.”

“Well,”saidJimmy,“Imustbegettingonwithmytask. I’ve justgot towhereBoliviasentusaNote.”

“IsupposeImustgetonwithmylittlelot,”saidBundle.“Areyougoingtoswotatitalltheevening?”

“Ithinkso.Areyou?”

“Oh,probably.Goodnight.”

Theywerebothliarsofthemostunblushingorder.JimmyThesigerknewperfectlywellthathewastakingLoraineWadeouttodinner.

As for Bundle, no sooner had she rung off than she attired herself invariousnondescriptgarmentsbelonging,asamatteroffact,tohermaid.AndhavingdonnedthemshesalliedoutonfootdeliberatingwhetherbusortubewouldbethebestroutebywhichtoreachtheSevenDialsClub.

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Thirteen

THESEVENDIALSCLUB

Bundle reached 14Hunstanton Street about six p.m.At that hour, as sherightly judged, the SevenDialsClubwas a dead spot. Bundle’s aimwas asimple one. She intended to get hold of the ex-footman Alfred. She wasconvincedthatonceshehadgotholdofhimtherestwouldbeeasy.Bundlehadasimpleautocraticmethodofdealingwithretainers.Itseldomfailed,andshesawnoreasonwhyitshouldfailnow.

The only thing of which she was not certain was how many peopleinhabitedtheclubpremises.Naturallyshewishedtodiscloseherpresencetoasfewpeopleaspossible.

Whilst shewashesitating as to thebest lineof attack, theproblemwassolved for her in a singularly easy fashion.The door ofNo14opened andAlfredhimselfcameout.

“Goodafternoon,Alfred,”saidBundlepleasantly.

Alfredjumped.

“Oh!goodafternoon,your ladyship. I—Ididn’t recognizeyour ladyshipjustforamoment.”

Paying a tribute in her own mind to her maid’s clothing, Bundleproceededtobusiness.

“Iwantafewwordswithyou,Alfred.Whereshallwego?”

“Well—really, my lady—I don’t know—it’s not what you might call anicepartroundhere—Idon’tknow,I’msure—”

Bundlecuthimshort.

“Who’sintheclub?”

“Nooneatpresent,mylady.”

“Thenwe’llgointhere.”

Alfred produced a key and opened the door. Bundle passed in. Alfred,troubledandsheepish,followedher.BundlesatdownandlookedstraightattheuncomfortableAlfred.

“I supposeyouknow,” she said crisply, “thatwhatyou’redoinghere isdeadagainstthelaw?”

Alfredshifteduncomfortablyfromonefoottotheother.

“It’s true as we’ve been raided twice,” he admitted. “But nothingcompromising was found, owing to the neatness of Mr. Mosgorovsky’sarrangements.”

“I’mnot talkingof the gamblingonly,” saidBundle.There’smore thanthat—probably a great deal more than you know. I’m going to ask you adirect question,Alfred, and I should like the truth, please.HowmuchwereyoupaidforleavingChimneys?”

Alfred looked twiceround thecorniceas thoughseekingfor inspiration,swallowedthreeorfourtimes,andthentooktheinevitablecourseofaweakwillopposedtoastrongone.

“Itwasthisway,yourladyship.Mr.Mosgorovsky,hecomewithapartytovisitChimneysononeoftheshowdays.Mr.Tredwell,hewasindisposedlike—an ingrowing toenailasamatterof fact—so it fell tome toshow thepartiesover.AttheendofthetourMr.Mosgorovsky,hestaysbehindtherest,andaftergivingmesomethinghandsome,hefallsintoconversation.”

“Yes,”saidBundleencouragingly.

“And the long and the short of it was,” said Alfred, with a suddenacceleration of his narrative, “that he offers me a hundred pound down toleavethatinstantandtolookafterthishereclub.Hewantedsomeoneaswasusedtothebestfamilies—togivetheplaceatone,asheputit.And,well,itseemedflyinginthefaceofprovidencetorefuse—letalonethatthewagesIgetherearejustthreetimeswhattheywereassecondfootman.”

“Ahundredpounds,”saidBundle.“That’saverylargesum,Alfred.DidtheysayanythingaboutwhowastofillyourplaceatChimneys?”

“I demurred a bit, my lady, about leaving at once. As I pointed out, itwasn’tusualandmightcauseinconvenience.ButMr.Mosgorovskyheknewofayoungchap—beeningoodserviceandreadytocomeanyminute.SoI

mentioned his name to Mr. Tredwell and everything was settled pleasant-like.”

Bundle nodded. Her own suspicions had been correct and the modusoperandiwasmuchasshehadthoughtittobe.Sheessayedafurtherinquiry.

“WhoisMr.Mosgorovsky?”

“Gentleman as runs this club. Russian gentleman. A very clevergentlemantoo.”

Bundle abandoned the getting of information for the moment andproceededtoothermatters.

“Ahundredpoundsisaverylargesumofmoney,Alfred.”

“LargerthanIeverhandled,mylady,”saidAlfredwithsimplecandour.

“Didyoueversuspectthattherewassomethingwrong?”

“Wrong,mylady?”

“Yes. I’m not talking about the gambling. I mean something far moreserious.Youdon’twanttobesenttopenalservitude,doyou,Alfred?”

“Oh,Lord!mylady,youdon’tmeanit?”

“I was at Scotland Yard the day before yesterday,” said Bundleimpressively. “I heard some very curious things. I want you to help me,Alfred,andifyoudo,well—if thingsgowrong,I’llput inagoodwordforyou.”

“AnythingIcando,Ishallbeonlytoopleased,mylady.ImeanIwouldanyway.”

“Well,first,”saidBundle,“Iwanttogoalloverthisplace—fromtoptobottom.”

AccompaniedbyamystifiedandscaredAlfred,shemadeaverythoroughtourofinspection.Nothingstruckhereyetillshecametothegamingroom.There she noticed an inconspicuous door in the corner, and the door waslocked.

Alfredexplainedreadily.

“That’susedasagetaway,yourladyship.There’saroomandadoorontoastaircasewhatcomesoutinthenextstreet.That’sthewaythegentrygoes

whenthere’saraid.”

“Butdon’tthepoliceknowaboutit?”

“It’sacunningdoor,yousee,mylady.Lookslikeacupboard,that’sall.”

Bundlefeltarisingexcitement.

“Imustgetinthere,”shesaid.

Alfredshookhishead.

“Youcan’t,mylady;Mr.Mosgorovsky,hehasthekey.”

“Well,”saidBundle,“thereareotherkeys.”

Sheperceivedthatthelockwasaperfectlyordinaryonewhichprobablycouldbeeasilyunlockedbythekeyofoneoftheotherdoors.Alfred,rathertroubled,was sent to collect likely specimens.The fourth thatBundle triedfitted.Sheturnedit,openedthedoorandpassedthrough.

Shefoundherselfinasmall,dingyapartment.Alongtableoccupiedthecentreoftheroomwithchairsrangedroundit.Therewasnootherfurnitureintheroom.Twobuilt-incupboardsstoodoneithersideofthefireplace.Alfredindicatedtheneareronewithanod.

“That’sit,”heexplained.

Bundle tried the cupboarddoor, but itwas locked, and she sawat oncethatthislockwasaverydifferentaffair.Itwasofthepatentkindthatwouldonlyyieldtoitsownkey.

“ ’Ighly ingenious, it is,” explained Alfred. “It looks all right whenopened.Shelves, youknow,with a few ledgers and that on ’em.Nobody’deversuspect,butyoutouchtherightspotandthewholethingsswingsopen.”

Bundlehad turned roundandwas surveying the room thoughtfully.Thefirst thing she noticed was that the door by which they had entered wascarefullyfittedroundwithbaize.Itmustbecompletelysoundproof.Thenhereyeswandered to thechairs.Thereweresevenof them, threeeachsideandonerathermoreimposingindesignattheheadofthetable.

Bundle’seyesbrightened.Shehadfoundwhatshewaslookingfor.This,shefeltsure,wasthemeetingplaceofthesecretorganization.Theplacewasalmost perfectly planned. It looked so innocent—you could reach it just by

stepping through from the gaming room, or you could arrive there by thesecret entrance—andany secrecy, anyprecautionswere easily explainedbythegaminggoingoninthenextroom.

Idly,asthesethoughtspassedthroughhermind,shedrewafingeracrossthemarbleofthemantelpiece.Alfredsawandmisinterpretedtheaction.

“Youwon’tfindnodirt,nottospeakof,”hesaid.“Mr.Mosgorovsky,heorderedtheplacetobesweptoutthismorning,andIdiditwhilehewaited.”

“Oh!”saidBundle,thinkingveryhard.“Thismorning,eh?”

“Hastobedonesometimes,”saidAlfred.“Thoughtheroom’sneverwhatyoumightcallused.”

Nextminutehereceivedashock.

“Alfred,”saidBundle,“you’vegottofindmeaplaceinthisroomwhereIcanhide.”

Alfredlookedatherindismay.

“Butit’simpossible,mylady.You’llgetmeintotroubleandI’lllosemyjob.”

“You’ll lose it anyway when you go to prison,” said Bundle unkindly.“Butasamatteroffact,youneedn’tworry,nobodywillknowanythingaboutit.”

“Andthereain’tnoplace,”wailedAlfred.“Lookroundforyourself,yourladyship,ifyoudon’tbelieveme.”

Bundlewas forced to admit that therewas something in this argument.Butshehadthetruespiritofoneundertakingadventures.

“Nonsense,”shesaidwithdetermination.“Therehasgottobeaplace.”

“Butthereain’tone,”wailedAlfred.

Neverhadaroomshownitselfmoreunpropitiousforconcealment.Dingyblinds were drawn down over the dirty window panes, and there were nocurtains.Thewindow sill outside,whichBundle examined,was about fourinches wide! Inside the room there were the table, the chairs and thecupboards.

The second cupboard had a key in the lock. Bundle went across and

pulleditopen.Insidewereshelvescoveredwithanoddassortmentofglassesandcrockery.

“Surplus stuff as we don’t use,” explained Alfred. “You can see foryourself,mylady,there’snoplacehereasacatcouldhide.”

ButBundlewasexaminingtheshelves.

“Flimsy work,” she said. “Now then, Alfred, have you got a cupboarddownstairswhereyoucouldshoveallthisglass?Youhave?Good.Thengetatrayandstarttocarryitdownatonce.Hurry—there’snotimetolose.”

“Youcan’t,mylady.Andit’sgettinglate,too.Thecookswillbehereanyminutenow.”

“Mr.Mosgo—whatnotdoesn’tcometilllater,Isuppose?”

“He’sneverheremuchbeforemidnight.Butoh,mylady—”

“Don’ttalksomuch,Alfred,”saidBundle.“Getthattray.Ifyoustayherearguing,youwillgetintotrouble.”

Doingwhatisfamiliarlyknownas“wringinghishands,”Alfreddeparted.Presentlyhereturnedwithatray,andhavingbynowrealizedthathisprotestswereuseless,heworkedwithanervousenergyquitesurprising.

AsBundlehad seen, the shelveswere easilydetachable.She took themdown,rangedthemuprightagainstthewall,andthensteppedin.

“H’m,”sheremarked.“Prettynarrow.It’sgoingtobeatightfit.Shutthedooronmecarefully,Alfred—that’sright.Yes,itcanbedone.NowIwantagimlet.”

“Agimlet,mylady?”

“That’swhatIsaid.”

“Idon’tknow—”

“Nonsense,youmusthaveagimlet—perhapsyou’vegotanaugeraswell.If you haven’t gotwhat Iwant, you’ll have to go out and buy it, so you’dbettertryhardtofindtherightthing.”

Alfreddepartedandreturnedpresentlywithquiteacreditableassortmentoftools.Bundleseizedwhatshewantedandproceededswiftlyandefficientlytoboreasmallholeatthelevelofherrighteye.Shedidthisfromtheoutside

sothatitshouldbelessnoticeable,andshedarednotmakeittoolargelestitshouldattractattention.

“There,that’lldo,”sheremarkedatlast.

“Oh,but,mylady,mylady—”

“Yes?”

“Butthey’llfindyou—iftheyshouldopenthedoor.”

“Theywon’topenthedoor,”saidBundle.“Becauseyouaregoingtolockitandtakethekeyaway.”

“AndifbychanceMr.Mosgorovskyshouldaskforthekey?”

“Tell him it’s lost,” said Bundle briskly. “But nobody’s going toworryaboutthiscupboard—it’sonlyheretoattractattentionfromtheotheroneandmakeitapair.Goon,Alfred,someonemightcomeatanytime.Lockmeinandtakethekeyandcomeandletmeoutwheneveryone’sgone.”

“You’llbetakenbad,mylady.You’llfaint—”

“Ineverfaint,”saidBundle.“Butyoumightaswellgetmeacocktail.Ishallcertainlyneedit.Thenlockthedooroftheroomagain—don’tforget—andtakethedoorkeysbacktotheirproperdoors.AndAlfred—don’tbetoomuchofarabbit.Remember,ifanythinggoeswrong,I’llseeyouthrough.”

“Andthat’sthat,”saidBundletoherself,whenhavingservedthecocktail,Alfredhadfinallydeparted.

ShewasnotnervouslestAlfred’snerveshouldfailandheshouldgiveheraway.Sheknewthathissenseofself-preservationwasfartoostrongforthat.His trainingalonehelpedhimtoconcealprivateemotionsbeneaththemaskofawell-trainedservant.

OnlyonethingworriedBundle.Theinterpretationshehadchosentoputuponthecleaningoftheroomthatmorningmightbeallwrong.Andifso—Bundle sighed in the narrow confines of the cupboard. The prospect ofspendinglonghoursinitfornothingwasnotattractive.

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Fourteen

THEMEETINGOFTHESEVENDIALS

It would be as well to pass over the sufferings of the next four hours asquicklyaspossible.Bundle foundherpositionextremelycramped.Shehadjudgedthatthemeeting,ifmeetingtherewastobe,wouldtakeplaceatatimewhentheclubwasinfullswing—somewhereprobablybetweenthehoursofmidnightandtwoa.m.

Shewas justdeciding that itmustbeat leastsixo’clock in themorningwhen awelcome sound come to her ears, the sound of the unlocking of adoor.

Inanotherminutetheelectriclightwasswitchedon.Thehumofvoices,whichhadcometoherforaminuteortwo,ratherlikethefar-offroarofseawaves,ceasedassuddenlyasithadbegun,andBundleheardthesoundofabolt being shot. Clearly someone had come in from the gaming room nextdoor,andshepaidtributetothethoroughnesswithwhichthecommunicatingdoorhadbeenrenderedsoundproof.

In another minute the intruder came into her line of vision—a line ofvisionthatwasnecessarilysomewhatincompletebutwhichyetanswereditspurpose. A tall man, broad-shouldered and powerful looking, with a longblack beard, Bundle remembered having seen him sitting at one of thebaccarattablesontheprecedingnight.

This,then,wasAlfred’smysteriousRussiangentleman,theproprietorofthe club, the sinister Mr. Mosgorovsky. Bundle’s heart beat faster withexcitement.Solittledidsheresembleherfatherthatatthisminuteshefairlygloriedintheextremediscomfortofherposition.

TheRussian remained for someminutes standing by the table, strokinghis beard. Then he drew awatch from his pocket and glanced at the time.Noddinghisheadasthoughsatisfied,heagainthrusthishandintohispocketand, pulling out something thatBundle could not see, hemoved out of the

lineofvision.

Whenhereappearedshecouldhardlyhelpgivingagaspofsurprise.

His face was now covered by a mask—but hardly a mask in theconventional sense. It was not shaped to the face. It was a mere piece ofmaterialhanginginfrontofthefeatureslikeacurtaininwhichtwoslitswerepiercedfortheeyes.Inshapeitwasroundandonitwastherepresentationofaclockface,withthehandspointingtosixo’clock.

“TheSevenDials!”saidBundletoherself.

Andatthatminutetherecameanewsound—sevenmuffledtaps.

MosgorovskystrodeacrosstowhereBundleknewwastheothercupboarddoor. She heard a sharp click, and then the sound of greetings in a foreigntongue.

Presentlyshehadaviewofthenewcomers.

Theyalsoworeclockmasks,butintheircasethehandswereinadifferentposition—four o’clock and five o’clock respectively. Both men were ineveningdress—butwithadifference.Onewasanelegant,slenderyoungmanwearingeveningclothesofexquisitecut.ThegracewithwhichhemovedwasforeignratherthanEnglish.Theothermancouldbebetterdescribedaswiryand lean.His clothes fitted him sufficientlywell, but nomore, andBundleguessedathisnationalityevenbeforesheheardhisvoice.

“Ireckonwe’rethefirsttoarriveatthislittlemeeting.”

A fullpleasantvoicewitha slightAmericandrawl, andan inflectionofIrishbehindit.

Theelegantyoungmansaidingood,butslightlystiltedEnglish:

“Ihadmuchdifficultyingettingawaytonight.Thesethingsdonotalwaysarrangethemselvesfortunately.Iamnot,likeNo4here,myownmaster.”

Bundletriedtoguessathisnationality.Untilhespoke,shehadthoughthemightbeFrench,buttheaccentwasnotaFrenchone.Hemightpossibly,shethought,beanAustrian,oraHungarian,orevenaRussian.

TheAmericanmoved to theother sideof the table, andBundleheardachairbeingpulledout.

“One o’clock’s being a great success,” he said. “I congratulate you ontakingtherisk.”

Fiveo’clockshruggedhisshoulders.

“Unlessonetakesrisks—”Heleftthesentenceunfinished.

Again seven taps soundedandMosgorovskymovedacross to the secretdoor.

She failed tocatchanythingdefinite for somemoments since thewholecompany were out of sight, but presently she heard the bearded Russian’svoiceupraised.

“Shallwebeginproceedings?”

Hehimselfcameroundthetableandtooktheseatnexttothearmchairatthe top.Sitting thus,hewasdirectly facingBundle’s cupboard.Theelegantfiveo’clocktooktheplacenext tohim.Thethirdchair thatsidewasoutofBundle’s sight,but theAmerican,No4,moved intoher lineofvision foramomentortwobeforehesatdown.

Onthenearsideofthetablealso,onlytwochairswerevisible,andasshewatchedahandturnedthesecond—reallythemiddlechair—down.Andthenwithaswiftmovement,oneofthenewcomersbrushedpastthecupboardandtookthechairoppositeMosgorovsky.Whoeversattherehad,ofcourse,theirback directly turned to Bundle—and it was at that back that Bundle wasstaring with a good deal of interest, for it was the back of a singularlybeautifulwomanverymuchdécolleté.

Itwasshewhospokefirst.Hervoicewasmusical,foreign—withadeepseductivenoteinit.Shewasglancingtowardstheemptychairattheheadofthetable.

“SowearenottoseeNo7tonight?”shesaid.“Tellme,myfriends,shallweeverseehim?”

“That’s darned good,” said the American. “Darned good! As for seveno’clock—I’mbeginningtobelievethereisnosuchperson.”

“I should not advise you to think that, my friend,” said the Russianpleasantly.

Therewasasilence—ratheranuncomfortablesilence,Bundlefelt.

Shewasstillstaringasthoughfascinatedatthebeautifulbackinfrontofher. There was a tiny black mole just below the right shoulder blade thatenhancedthewhitenessoftheskin.Bundlefeltthatatlasttheterm“beautifuladventuress,”sooftenread,hadarealmeaningforher.Shewasquitecertainthat thiswomanhadabeautiful face—adarkSlavonic facewithpassionateeyes.

Shewas recalled from her imagining by the voice of theRussian,whoseemedtoactasmasterofceremonies.

“Shallwegetonwithourbusiness?Firsttoourabsentcomrade!No2!”

Hemadeacuriousgesturewithhishand towards the turneddownchairnext to thewoman,whicheveryonepresent imitated, turning to thechairastheydidso.

“IwishNo2werewithustonight,”hecontinued.“Therearemanythingstobedone.Unsuspecteddifficultieshavearisen.”

“Haveyouhadhisreport?”ItwastheAmericanwhospoke.

“As yet—I have nothing from him.” There was a pause. “I cannotunderstandit.”

“Youthinkitmayhave—goneastray?”

“Thatis—apossibility.”

“Inotherwords,”saidfiveo’clocksoftly,“thereis—danger.”

Hespoketheworddelicately—andyetwithrelish.

TheRussiannoddedemphatically.

“Yes—there’s danger. Toomuch is getting known about us—about thisplace.Iknowofseveralpeoplewhosuspect.”Headdedcoldly:“Theymustbesilenced.”

Bundle felt a little cold shiver pass down her spine. If she were to befound,would she be silenced? Shewas recalled suddenly to attention by aword.

“SonothinghascometolightaboutChimneys?”

Mosgorovskyshookhishead.

“Nothing.”

SuddenlyNo5leantforward.

“IagreewithAnna;whereisourpresident—No7?Hewhocalledusintobeing.Whydoweneverseehim?”

“No7,”saidtheRussian,“hashisownwaysofworking.”

“Soyoualwayssay.”

“Iwill saynomore,” saidMosgorovsky. “Ipity theman—orwoman—whocomesupagainsthim.”

Therewasanawkwardsilence.

“Wemust get onwith our business,” saidMosgorovsky quietly. “No 3,youhavetheplansofWyvernAbbey?”

Bundlestrainedherears.SofarshehadneithercaughtaglimpseofNo3,nor had she heard his voice. She heard it now and recognized it asunmistakable. Low, pleasant, indistinct—the voice of a well-bredEnglishman.

“I’vegotthemhere,sir.”

Some papers were shoved across the table. Everyone bent forward.PresentlyMosgorovskyraisedhisheadagain.

“Andthelistofguests?”

“Here.”

TheRussianreadthem.

“SirStanleyDigby.Mr.TerenceO’Rourke.SirOswaldandLadyCoote.Mr.Bateman.CountessAnnaRadzky.Mrs.Macatta.Mr.JamesThesiger—”Hepausedandthenaskedsharply:

“WhoisMr.JamesThesiger?”

TheAmericanlaughed.

“I guess you needn’t worry any about him. The usual complete youngass.”

TheRussiancontinuedreading.

“HerrEberhardandMr.Eversleigh.Thatcompletesthelist.”

“Doesit?”saidBundlesilently.“Whataboutthatsweetgirl,LadyEileen

Brent?”

“Yes, there seemsnothing toworryabout there,” saidMosgorovsky.Helookedacrossthetable.“Isupposethere’snodoubtwhateveraboutthevalueofEberhard’sinvention?”

Threeo’clockmadealaconicBritishreply.

“Nonewhatever.”

“Commercially it should be worth millions,” said the Russian. “Andinternationally—well,oneknowsonlytoowellthegreedofnations.”

Bundlehadanideathatbehindhismaskhewassmilingunpleasantly.

“Yes,”hewenton.“Agoldmine.”

“Wellworthafewlives,”saidNo5,cynically,andlaughed.

“Butyouknowwhatinventorsare,”saidtheAmerican.“Sometimesthesedarnedthingswon’twork.”

“A man like Sir Oswald Coote will have made no mistake,” saidMosgorovsky.

“Speaking as an aviator myself,” said No 5, “the thing is perfectlyfeasible.Ithasbeendiscussedforyears—butitneededthegeniusofEberhardtobringittofruition.”

“Well,” saidMosgorovsky, “I don’t think we need discuss matters anyfurther.Youhaveallseentheplans.Idonotthinkouroriginalschemecanbebettered.By theway, Ihear somethingabouta letterofGeraldWade’s thathasbeenfound—aletterthatmentionsthisorganization.Whofoundit?”

“LordCaterham’sdaughter—LadyEileenBrent.”

“Bauershouldhavebeenontothat,”saidMosgorovsky.“Itwascarelessofhim.Whowastheletterwrittento?”

“Hissister,Ibelieve,”saidNo3.

“Unfortunate,”saidMosgorovsky.“But itcannotbehelped.The inquestonRonaldDevereuxistomorrow.Isupposethathasbeenarrangedfor?”

“Reports as to local lads having been practising with rifles have beenspreadeverywhere,”saidtheAmerican.

“Thatshouldbeallrightthen.Ithinkthereisnothingfurthertobesaid.Ithinkwemustallcongratulateourdearoneo’clockandwishherluckinthepartshehastoplay.”

“Hurrah!”criedNo5.“ToAnna!”

AllhandsflewoutinthesamegesturewhichBundlehadnoticedbefore.

“ToAnna!”

Oneo’clockacknowledgedthesalutationwithatypicallyforeigngesture.Then she rose to her feet and the others followed suit. For the first time,BundlecaughtaglimpseofNo3ashecametoputAnna’scloakroundher—atall,heavilybuiltman.

Thenthepartyfiledoutthroughthesecretdoor.Mosgorovskysecureditafterthem.HewaitedafewmomentsandthenBundleheardhimunbolttheotherdoorandpassthroughafterextinguishingtheelectriclight.

Itwasnotuntil twohours later thatawhiteandanxiousAlfredcametoreleaseBundle.Shealmostfellintohisarmsandhehadtoholdherup.

“Nothing,”saidBundle.“Juststiff,that’sall.Here,letmesitdown.”

“Oh,Gord,mylady,it’sbeenawful.”

“Nonsense,”saidBundle.“Itallwentoffsplendidly.Don’tget thewindupnowit’sallover.Itmighthavegonewrong,butthankgoodnessitdidn’t.”

“Thank goodness, as you say, my lady. I’ve been in a twitter all theevening.They’reafunnycrowd,youknow.”

“A damned funny crowd,” saidBundle, vigorouslymassaging her armsand legs. “As amatter of fact, they’re the sort of crowd I always imagineduntil tonight only existed in books. In this life, Alfred, one never stopslearning.”

OceanofPDF.com

Fifteen

THEINQUEST

Bundle reachedhomeabout sixa.m.Shewasupanddressedbyhalfpastnine,andrangupJimmyThesigeronthetelephone.

The promptitude of his reply somewhat surprised her, till he explainedthathewasgoingdowntoattendtheinquest.

“SoamI,”saidBundle.“AndI’vegotalottotellyou.”

“Well, supposeyou letmedriveyoudownandwecan talkon theway.Howaboutthat?”

“All right. But allow a bit extra because you’ll have to take me toChimneys.TheChiefConstable’spickingmeupthere.”

“Why?”

“Becausehe’sakindman,”saidBundle.

“SoamI,”saidJimmy.“Verykind.”

“Oh! you—you’re an ass,” saidBundle. “I heard somebody say so lastnight.”

“Who?”

“Tobestrictlyaccurate—aRussianJew.No,itwasn’t.Itwas—”

Butanindignantprotestdrownedherwords.

“Imaybeanass,”saidJimmy.“IdaresayIam—butIwon’thaveRussianJewssayingso.Whatwereyoudoinglastnight,Bundle?”

“That’swhat I’m going to talk about,” said Bundle. “Good-bye for themoment.”

SherangoffinatantalizingmannerwhichleftJimmypleasantlypuzzled.HehadthehighestrespectforBundle’scapabilities,thoughtherewasnottheslightesttraceofsentimentinhisfeelingtowardsher.

“She’sbeenuptosomething,”heopined,ashetookalasthastydrinkofcoffee.“Dependuponit,she’sbeenuptosomething.”

Twentyminuteslater,hislittletwo-seaterdrewupbeforetheBrookStreethouse and Bundle, who had been waiting, came tripping down the steps.Jimmywasnotordinarilyanobservantyoungman,buthenoticedthattherewereblackringsroundBundle’seyesandthatshehadalltheappearanceofhavinghadalatenightthenightbefore.

“Now then,” he said, as the car began to nose her way through thesuburbs,“whatdarkdeedshaveyoubeenupto?”

“I’lltellyou,”saidBundle.“Butdon’tinterruptuntilI’vefinished.”

It was a somewhat long story, and Jimmy had all he could do to keepsufficient attention on the car to prevent an accident. When Bundle hadfinishedhesighed—thenlookedathersearchingly.

“Bundle?”

“Yes?”

“Lookhere,you’renotpullingmyleg?”

“Whatdoyoumean?”

“I’msorry,”apologizedJimmy,“butitseemstomeasthoughI’dhearditallbefore—inadream,youknow.”

“Iknow,”saidBundlesympathetically.

“It’s impossible,” said Jimmy, following out his own train of thought.“Thebeautifulforeignadventuress,theinternationalgang,themysteriousNo7,whoseidentitynobodyknows—I’vereaditallahundredtimesinbooks.”

“Ofcourseyouhave.SohaveI.Butit’snoreasonwhyitshouldn’treallyhappen.”

“Isupposenot,”admittedJimmy.

“Afterall—Isupposefictionisfoundedonthetruth.Imeanunlessthingsdidhappen,peoplecouldn’tthinkofthem.”

“Thereissomethinginwhatyousay,”agreedJimmy.“ButallthesameIcan’thelppinchingmyselftoseeifI’mawake.”

“That’showIfelt.”

Jimmygaveadeepsigh.

“Well, Isupposeweareawake.Letmesee,aRussian,anAmerican,anEnglishman—a possibleAustrian orHungarian—and the ladywhomay beanynationality—forchoiceRussianorPolish—that’sapretty representativegathering.”

“AndaGerman,”saidBundle.“You’veforgottentheGerman.”

“Oh!”saidJimmyslowly.“Youthink—?”

“TheabsentNo2.No2isBauer—ourfootman.Thatseemstomequiteclear fromwhat theysaidaboutexpectinga reportwhichhadn’tcome in—thoughwhattherecanbetoreportaboutChimneys,Ican’tthink.”

“It must be something to do with Gerry Wade’s death,” said Jimmy.“There’s something there we haven’t fathomed yet. You say they actuallymentionedBauerbyname?”

Bundlenodded.

“Theyblamedhimfornothavingfoundthatletter.”

“Well,Idon’tseewhatyoucouldhaveclearerthanthat.There’snogoingagainstit.You’llhavetoforgivemyfirstincredulity,Bundle—butyouknow,itwasratheratallstory.YousaytheyknewaboutmygoingdowntoWyvernAbbeynextweek?”

“Yes,that’swhentheAmerican—itwashim,nottheRussian—saidtheyneedn’tworry—youwereonlytheusualkindofass.”

“Ah!”saidJimmy.Hepressedhisfootdownontheacceleratorviciouslyandthecarshotforward.“I’mverygladyoutoldmethat.Itgivesmewhatyoumightcallapersonalinterestinthecase.”

Hewassilentforaminuteortwoandthenhesaid:

“DidyousaythatGermaninventor’snamewasEberhard?”

“Yes.Why?”

“Wait aminute.Something’s comingback tome.Eberhard,Eberhard—yes,I’msurethatwasthename.”

“Tellme.”

“EberhardwasaJohnnywho’dgotsomepatentprocessheappliedtosell.

Ican’tputthethingproperlybecauseIhaven’tgotthescientificknowledge—but I know the result was that it became so toughened that a wire was asstrongasasteelbarhadpreviouslybeen.Eberhardhadtodowithaeroplanesandhisideawasthattheweightwouldbesoenormouslyreducedthatflyingwould be practically revolutionized—the cost of it, I mean. I believe heoffered his invention to theGermanGovernment, and they turned it down,pointedoutsomeundeniableflawinit—buttheydiditrathernastily.Hesetto work and circumvented the difficulty, whatever it was, but he’d beenoffended by their attitude and swore they shouldn’t have his ewe lamb. Ialways thought the whole thing was probably bunkum, but now—it looksdifferently.”

“That’s it,” said Bundle eagerly. “You must be right, Jimmy. EberhardmusthaveofferedhisinventiontoourGovernment.They’vebeentaking,oraregoingtotake,SirOswaldCoote’sexpertopiniononit.There’sgoingtobeanunofficialconferenceat theAbbey.SirOswald,George, theAirMinisterandEberhard.Eberhardwill have theplansor theprocess orwhatever youcallit—”

“Formula,”suggestedJimmy.“Ithink‘formula’isagoodwordmyself.”

“He’llhavetheformulawithhim,andtheSevenDialsareouttostealtheformula.IremembertheRussiansayingitwasworthmillions.”

“Isupposeitwouldbe,”saidJimmy.

“Andwellworthafewlives—that’swhattheothermansaid.”

“Well,itseemstohavebeen,”saidJimmy,hisfacecloudingover.“Lookatthisdamnedinquesttoday.Bundle,areyousureRonnysaidnothingelse?”

“No,”saidBundle.“Justthat.SevenDials.TellJimmyThesiger.That’sallhecouldgetout,poorlad.”

“Iwishweknewwhatheknew,”saidJimmy.“Butwe’vefoundoutonething. I take it that the footman, Bauer, must almost certainly have beenresponsibleforGerry’sdeath.Youknow,Bundle—”

“Yes?”

“Well, I’mabitworried sometimes.Who’sgoing tobe thenextone! Itreallyisn’tthesortofbusinessforagirltobemixedupin.”

Bundle smiled in spite of herself. It occurred to her that it had taken

JimmyalongtimetoputherinthesamecategoryasLoraineWade.

“It’sfarmorelikelytobeyouthanme,”sheremarkedcheerfully.

“Hear,hear,”saidJimmy.“Butwhatabouta fewcasualtieson theotherside for a change? I’m feeling rather bloodthirsty this morning. Tell me,Bundle,wouldyourecognizeanyofthesepeopleifyousawthem?”

Bundlehesitated.

“IthinkIshouldrecognizeNo5,”shesaidatlast.“He’sgotaqueerwayofspeaking—akindofvenomous,lispingway—thatIthinkI’dknowagain.”

“WhatabouttheEnglishman?”

Bundleshookherhead.

“I saw him least—only a glimpse—and he’s got a very ordinary voice.Exceptthathe’sabigman,there’snothingmuchtogoby.”

“There’s the woman, of course,” continued Jimmy. “She ought to beeasier.Butthen,you’renotlikelytorunacrossher.She’sprobablyputtinginthedirtywork,being takenout todinnerbyamorousCabinetMinistersandgettingStatesecretsoutof themwhenthey’vehadacouple.At least, that’showit’sdoneinbooks.Asamatteroffact,theonlyCabinetMinisterIknowdrinkshotwaterwithadashoflemoninit.”

“TakeGeorgeLomax,for instance,canyouimaginehimbeingamorouswithbeautifulforeignwomen?”saidBundlewithalaugh.

Jimmyagreedwithhercriticism.

“Andnowaboutthemanofmystery—No7,”wentonJimmy.“You’venoideawhohecouldbe?”

“Nonewhatever.”

“Again—by book standards, that is—he ought to be someone we allknow.WhataboutGeorgeLomaxhimself?”

Bundlereluctantlyshookherhead.

“In a book itwould be perfect,” she agreed. “But knowingCodders—”Andshegaveherselfuptosuddenuncontrollablemirth.“Codders,thegreatcriminalorganizer,”shegasped.“Wouldn’titbemarvellous?”

Jimmyagreedthatitwould.Theirdiscussionhadtakensometimeandhis

driving had slowed down involuntarily once or twice. They arrived atChimneys, to find Colonel Melrose already there waiting. Jimmy wasintroducedtohimandtheyallthreeproceededtotheinquesttogether.

As Colonel Melrose had predicted, the whole affair was very simple.Bundlegaveherevidence.Thedoctorgavehis.Evidencewasgivenofriflepractice in the neighbourhood. A verdict of death by misadventure wasbroughtin.

After the proceedings were over, ColonelMelrose volunteered to driveBundlebacktoChimneys,andJimmyThesigerreturnedtoLondon.

For all his lighthearted manner, Bundle’s story had impressed himprofoundly.Hesethislipscloselytogether.

“Ronny, old boy,” he murmured, “I’m going to be up against it. Andyou’renotheretojoininthegame.”

Anotherthoughtflashedintohismind.Loraine!Wassheindanger?

Afteraminuteortwo’shesitation,hewentovertothetelephoneandrangherup.

“It’sme—Jimmy.I thoughtyou’d like toknowtheresultof the inquest.Deathbymisadventure.”

“Oh,but—”

“Yes, but I think there’s something behind that. The coroner had had ahint.Someone’satworktohushitup.Isay,Loraine—”

“Yes?”

“Lookhere.There’s—there’ssomefunnybusinessgoingabout.You’llbeverycareful,won’tyou?Formysake.”

Heheardthequicknoteofalarmthatsprangintohervoice.

“Jimmy—butthenit’sdangerous—foryou.”

Helaughed.

“Oh,that’sallright.I’mthecatthathadninelives.Bye-bye,oldthing.”

He rang off and remained a minute or two lost in thought. Then hesummonedStevens.

“Doyouthinkyoucouldgooutandbuymeapistol,Stevens?”

“Apistol,sir?”

Truetohistraining,Stevensbetrayednohintofsurprise.

“Whatkindofapistolwouldyouberequiring?”

“Thekindwhereyouputyourfingeronthetriggerandthethinggoesonshootinguntilyoutakeitoffagain.”

“Anautomatic,sir.”

“That’s it,” said Jimmy. “An automatic. And I should like it to be abluenosed one—if you and the shopman know what that is. In Americanstories,theheroalwaystakeshisbluenosedautomaticfromhishippocket.”

Stevenspermittedhimselfafaint,discreetsmile.

“MostAmericangentlementhatIhaveknown,sir,carrysomethingverydifferentintheirhippockets,”heobserved.

JimmyThesigerlaughed.

OceanofPDF.com

Sixteen

THEHOUSEPARTYATTHEABBEY

Bundle drove over to Wyvern Abbey just in time for tea on Fridayafternoon. George Lomax came forward to welcome her with considerableempressement.

“MydearEileen,”hesaid,“Ican’ttellyouhowpleasedIamtoseeyouhere.YoumustforgivemynothavinginvitedyouwhenIaskedyourfather,buttotellthetruthIneverdreamedthatapartyofthiskindwouldappealtoyou. I was both—er—surprised and—er—delighted when Lady Caterhamtoldmeofyour—er—interestin—er—politics.”

“Iwantedtocomesomuch,”saidBundleinasimple,ingenuousmanner.

“Mrs.Macattawillnotarrivetillthelatertrain,”explainedGeorge.“ShewasspeakingatameetinginManchesterlastnight.DoyouknowThesiger?Quiteayoungfellow,butaremarkablegraspofforeignpolitics.Onewouldhardlysuspectitfromhisappearance.”

“IknowMr.Thesiger,”saidBundle,andsheshookhandssolemnlywithJimmy,whosheobservedhadpartedhishairinthemiddleintheendeavourtoaddearnestnesstohisexpression.

“Lookhere,” said Jimmy in a lowhurriedvoice, asGeorge temporarilywithdrew.“Youmustn’tbeangry,butI’vetoldBillaboutourlittlestunt.”

“Bill?”saidBundle,annoyed.

“Well, afterall,” said Jimmy,“Bill isoneof the lads,youknow.RonnywasapalofhisandsowasGerry.”

“Oh!Iknow,”saidBundle.

“Butyouthinkit’sapity?Sorry.”

“Bill’s all right, of course. It isn’t that,” said Bundle. “But he’s—well,Bill’sabornblunderer.”

“Notmentallyveryagile?”suggestedJimmy.“Butyouforgetonething—Bill’sgotaveryheftyfist.AndI’veanideathataheftyfistisgoingtocomeinhandy.”

“Well,perhapsyou’reright.Howdidhetakeit?”“Well,heclutchedhishead a good bit, but—I mean the facts took some driving home. But byrepeating the thingpatiently inwordsofonesyllable Iat lastgot it intohisthickhead.And,naturally,he’swithustothedeath,asyoumightsay.”

Georgereappearedsuddenly.

“I must make some introductions, Eileen. This is Sir Stanley Digby—LadyEileenBrent.Mr.O’Rourke.”TheAirMinisterwasalittleroundmanwith a cheerful smile.Mr.O’Rourke, a tall youngmanwith laughing blueeyesandatypicalIrishface,greetedBundlewithenthusiasm.

“And I thinking it was going to be a dull political party entirely,” hemurmuredinanadroitwhisper.

“Hush,”saidBundle.“I’mpolitical—verypolitical.”

“SirOswaldandLadyCooteyouknow,”continuedGeorge.

“We’veneveractuallymet,”saidBundle,smiling.

Shewasmentallyapplaudingherfather’sdescriptivepowers.

SirOswaldtookherhandinanirongripandshewincedslightly.

LadyCoote, after a somewhatmournful greeting, had turned to JimmyThesiger,andappeared toberegisteringsomethingcloselyakin topleasure.Despitehisreprehensiblehabitofbeinglateforbreakfast,LadyCootehadafondnessforthisamiable,pink-facedyoungman.Hisairofirrepressiblegoodnaturefascinatedher.Shehadamotherlywishtocurehimofhisbadhabitsand form him into one of the world’s workers. Whether, once formed, hewouldbeasattractivewasaquestionshehadneveraskedherself.Shebegannowtotellhimofaverypainfulmotoraccidentwhichhadhappenedtooneofherfriends.

“Mr.Bateman,”saidGeorgebriefly,asonewhowouldpassontobetterthings.

Aserious,palefacedyoungmanbowed.

“And now,” continued George, “I must introduce you to Countess

Radzky.”

CountessRadzkyhadbeen conversingwithMr.Bateman.Leaningveryfarbackonasofa,withherlegscrossedinadaringmanner,shewassmokingacigaretteinanincrediblylongturquoise-studdedholder.

Bundle thought shewas one of themost beautifulwomen she had everseen.Hereyeswerevery largeandblue,herhairwascoalblack,shehadamatteskin,theslightlyflattenednoseoftheSlav,andasinuous,slenderbody.Her lips were reddened to a degree with which Bundle was sure WyvernAbbeywastotallyunacquainted.

Shesaideagerly:“ThisisMrs.Macatta—yes?”

On George’s replying in the negative and introducing Bundle, thecountessgaveheracarelessnod,andatonceresumedherconversationwiththeseriousMr.Bateman.

BundleheardJimmy’svoiceinherear:

“Pongo is absolutely fascinated by the lovely Slav,” he said. “Pathetic,isn’tit?Comeandhavesometea.”

TheydriftedoncemoreintotheneighbourhoodofSirOswaldCoote.

“That’safineplaceofyours,Chimneys,”remarkedthegreatman.

“I’mgladyoulikedit,”saidBundlemeekly.

“Wantsnewplumbing,”saidSirOswald.“Bringituptodate,youknow.”

Heruminatedforaminuteortwo.

“I’m taking the Duke of Alton’s place. Three years. Just while I’mlookingroundforaplaceofmyown.Yourfathercouldn’tsell ifhewantedto,Isuppose?”

Bundlefeltherbreathtakenaway.ShehadanightmarevisionofEnglandwithinnumerableCootesininnumerablecounterpartsofChimneys—all,beitunderstood,withanentirelynewsystemofplumbinginstalled.

Shefeltasuddenviolentresentmentwhich,shetoldherself,wasabsurd.After all, contrasting Lord Caterhamwith Sir Oswald Coote, there was nodoubtastowhowouldgotothewall.SirOswaldhadoneofthosepowerfulpersonalitieswhichmakeall thosewithwhom theycome in contact appear

faded.Hewas, as Lord Caterham had said, a human steamroller. And yet,undoubtedly, inmanyways, SirOswaldwas a stupidman.Apart from hisspecial line of knowledge and his terrific driving force, he was probablyintensely ignorant. A hundred delicate appreciations of life which LordCaterhamcouldanddidenjoywereasealedbooktoSirOswald.

WhilstindulginginthesereflectionsBundlecontinuedtochatpleasantly.Herr Eberhard, she heard, had arrived, butwas lying downwith a nervousheadache.ThiswastoldherbyMr.O’Rourke,whomanagedtofindaplacebyhersideandkeepit.

Altogether,Bundlewent up to dress in a pleasantmood of expectation,withaslightnervousdreadhoveringinthebackgroundwhenevershethoughtoftheimminentarrivalofMrs.Macatta.BundlefeltthatdalliancewithMrs.Macattawasgoingtoprovenoprimrosepath.

Herfirstshockwaswhenshecamedown,demurelyattiredinablacklacefrock, and passed along the hall.A footmanwas standing there—at least amandressedasafootman.Butthatsquare,burlyfigurelentitselfbadlytothedeception.Bundlestoppedandstared.

“SuperintendentBattle,”shebreathed.

“That’sright,LadyEileen.”

“Oh!”saidBundleuncertainly.“Areyouhereto—to—?”

“Keepaneyeonthings.”

“Isee.”

“Thatwarningletter,youknow,”saidtheSuperintendent,“fairlyput thewindupMr.Lomax.NothingwoulddoforhimbutthatIshouldcomedownmyself.”

“Butdon’tyouthink—”beganBundle,andstopped.ShehardlylikedtosuggesttotheSuperintendentthathisdisguisewasnotaparticularlyefficientone. He seemed to have “police officer” written all over him, and Bundlecouldhardlyimaginethemostunsuspectingcriminalfailingtobeputonhisguard.

“You think,” said the Superintendent stolidly, “that I might berecognized?”

Hegavethefinalwordadistinctcapitalletter.

“Ididthinkso—yes—”admittedBundle.

SomethingthatmightconceivablyhavebeenintendedforasmilecrossedthewoodennessofSuperintendentBattle’sfeatures.

“Putthemontheirguard,eh?Well,LadyEileen,whynot?”

“Whynot?”echoedBundle—ratherstupidly,shefelt.

SuperintendentBattlewasnoddinghisheadslowly.

“Wedon’twantanyunpleasantness,dowe?”hesaid.“Don’twanttobetooclever—justshowanylight-fingeredgentrythatmaybeabout—well,justshowthemthatthere’ssomebodyonthespot,sotospeak.”

Bundle gazed at him in some admiration. She could imagine that thesudden appearance of so renowned a personage as Superintendent Battlemighthaveadepressingeffectonanyschemeandthehatchersofit.

“It’s a great mistake to be too clever,” Superintendent Battle wasrepeating.“Thegreatthingisnottohaveanyunpleasantnessthisweekend.”

Bundle passed on, wondering how many of her fellow guests hadrecognized orwould recognize the ScotlandYard detective. In the drawingroomGeorgewasstandingwithapuckeredbrowandanorangeenvelopeinhishand.

“Mostvexatious,”hesaid.“AtelegramfromMrs.Macattatosayshewillbeunabletobewithus.Herchildrenaresufferingfrommumps.”

Bundle’sheartgaveathrobofrelief.

“I especially feel this on your account, Eileen,” said George kindly. “Iknow how anxious you were to meet her. The Countess too will be sadlydisappointed.”

“Oh,nevermind,”saidBundle.“Ishouldhateitifshe’dcomeandgivenmemumps.”

“Averydistressing complaint,” agreedGeorge. “But I donot think thatinfection could be carried that way. Indeed, I am sure that Mrs. Macattawouldhaverunnoriskofthatkind.Sheisamosthighlyprincipledwoman,withaveryrealsenseofherresponsibilitiestothecommunity.Inthesedays

ofnationalstress,wemustalltakeintoaccount—”

Onthebrinkofembarkingonaspeech,Georgepulledhimselfupshort.

“Butitmustbeforanothertime,”hesaid.“Fortunatelythereisnohurryinyourcase.ButtheCountess,alas,isonlyavisitortoourshores.”

“She’saHungarian, isn’t she?”saidBundle,whowascuriousabout theCountess.

“Yes. You have heard, no doubt, of the Young Hungarian party. TheCountessisaleaderofthatparty.Awomanofgreatwealth,leftawidowatanearly age, she has devoted hermoney and her talents to the public service.She has especially devoted herself to the problem of infant mortality—aterrible one under present conditions in Hungary. I—Ah! here is HerrEberhard.”

The German inventor was younger than Bundle had imagined him. Hewas probably notmore than thirty-three or four. Hewas boorish and ill atease.Andyethispersonalitywasnotanunpleasingone.Hisblueeyesweremoreshythanfurtive,andhismoreunpleasantmannerisms,suchastheonethatBill haddescribedofgnawinghis fingernails, arose, she thought,morefrom nervousness than from any other cause. He was thin and weedy inappearanceandlookedanaemicanddelicate.

He conversed rather awkwardlywithBundle in stiltedEnglish and theybothwelcomed the interruption of the joyousMr.O’Rourke. PresentlyBillbustled in—there is no other word for it: in the same such way does afavoured Newfoundland make his entrance—and at once came over toBundle.Hewaslookingperplexedandharassed.

“Hullo, Bundle. Heard you’d got here. Been kept with my nose to thegrindstonealltheblessedafternoonorI’dhaveseenyoubefore.”

“CaresofStateheavytonight?”suggestedO’Rourkesympathetically.

Billgroaned.

“Idon’tknowwhatyour fellow’s like,”hecomplained.“Looksagood-natured,tubbylittlechap.ButCoddersisabsolutelyimpossible.Drive,drive,drive,frommorningtonight.Everythingyoudoiswrong,andeverythingyouhaven’tdoneyououghttohavedone.”

“Quitelikeaquotationfromtheprayerbook,”remarkedJimmy,whohad

juststrolledup.

Billglancedathimreproachfully.

“Nobodyknows,”hesaidpathetically,“whatIhavetoputupwith.”

“EntertainingtheCountess,eh?”suggestedJimmy.“PoorBill, thatmusthavebeenasadstraintoawomanhaterlikeyourself.”

“What’sthis?”askedBundle.

“Aftertea,”saidJimmywithagrin,“theCountessaskedBilltoshowherroundtheinterestingoldplace.”

“Well,Icouldn’trefuse,couldI?”saidBill,hiscountenanceassumingabrick-redtint.

Bundlefelt faintlyuneasy.Sheknew,only toowell, thesusceptibilityofMr.WilliamEversleigh to female charms. In thehandof awoman like theCountess, Bill would be aswax. Shewondered oncemorewhether JimmyThesigerhadbeenwisetotakeBillintotheirconfidence.

“The Countess,” said Bill, “is a very charming woman. And no endintelligent. You should have seen her going round the house. All sorts ofquestionssheasked.”

“Whatkindofquestions?”askedBundlesuddenly.

Billwasvague.

“Oh!Idon’tknow.Aboutthehistoryofit.Andoldfurniture.And—oh!allsortsofthings.”

At thatmoment theCountess swept into the room.She seemed a shadebreathless.Shewaslookingmagnificentinaclose-fittingblackvelvetgown.BundlenoticedhowBillgravitatedatoncetoherimmediateneighbourhood.Theseriousspectacledyoungmanjoinedhim.

“BillandPongohavebothgotitbadly,”observedJimmyThesigerwithalaugh.

Bundlewasbynomeanssosurethatitwasalaughingmatter.

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Seventeen

AFTERDINNER

Georgewasnotabelieverinmoderninnovations.TheAbbeywasinnocentof anything soup to date as central heating.Consequently,when the ladiesentered the drawing room after dinner, the temperature of the room waswoefully inadequate to the needs of modern evening clothes. The fire thatburntinthewell-furnishedsteelgratebecameasamagnet.Thethreewomenhuddledroundit.

“Brrrrrrrrrr!”saidtheCountess,afine,exoticforeignsound.

“Thedaysaredrawingin,”saidLadyCoote,anddrewafloweredatrocityofascarfcloseraboutherampleshoulders.

“Why on earth doesn’t George have the house properly heated?” saidBundle.

“YouEnglish,youneverheatyourhouses,”saidtheCountess.

Shetookoutherlongcigaretteholderandbegantosmoke.

“That grate is old-fashioned,” said Lady Coote. “The heat goes up thechimneyinsteadofintotheroom.”

“Oh!”saidtheCountess.

Therewasapause.TheCountesswassoplainlyboredbyhercompanythatconversationbecamedifficult.

“It’sfunny,”saidLadyCoote,breakingthesilence,“thatMrs.Macatta’schildrenshouldhavemumps.Atleast,Idon’tmeanexactlyfunny—”

“What,”saidtheCountess,“aremumps?”

Bundle and Lady Coote started simultaneously to explain. Finally,betweenthem,theymanagedit.

“IsupposeHungarianchildrenhaveit?”askedLadyCoote.

“Eh?”saidtheCountess.

“Hungarianchildren.Theysufferfromit?”

“Idonotknow,”saidtheCountess.“HowshouldI?”

LadyCootelookedatherinsomesurprise.

“ButIunderstoodthatyouworked—”

“Oh, that!” The Countess uncrossed her legs, took her cigarette holderfromhermouthandbegantotalkrapidly.

“I will tell you some horrors,” she said. “Horrors that I have seen.Incredible!Youwouldnotbelieve!”

Andshewasasgoodasherword.Shetalkedfluentlyandwithagraphicpowerofdescription.Incrediblescenesofstarvationandmiserywerepaintedbyherforthebenefitofheraudience.ShespokeofBudaPesthshortlyafterthewarand traced itsvicissitudes to thepresentday.Shewasdramatic,butshewasalso,toBundle’smind,alittlelikeagramophonerecord.Youturnedheron,andthereyouwere.Presently,justassuddenly,shewouldstop.

LadyCootewasthrilledtothemarrow—thatmuchwasclear.Shesatwithhermouthslightlyopenandherlarge,sad,darkeyesfixedontheCountess.Occasionally,sheinterpolatedacommentofherown.

“Oneofmycousinshadthreechildrenburnedtodeath.Awful,wasn’tit?”

The Countess paid no attention. She went on and on. And she finallystoppedassuddenlyasshehadbegun.

“There!” she said. “I have told you. We have money—but noorganization.Itisorganizationweneed.”

LadyCootesighed.

“I’ve heard my husband say that nothing can be done without regularmethods.Heattributeshisownsuccessentirelytothat.Hedeclareshewouldneverhavegotonwithoutthem.”

Shesighedagain.AsuddenfleetingvisionpassedbeforehereyesofaSirOswaldwhohadnotgotonintheworld.ASirOswaldwhoretained, inallessentials,theattributesofthatcheeryyoungmaninthebicycleshop.Justforaseconditoccurredtoherhowmuchpleasanterlifemighthavebeenforher

ifSirOswaldhadnothadregularmethods.

ByaquiteunderstandableassociationofideassheturnedtoBundle.

“Tell me, Lady Eileen,” she said; “do you like that head gardener ofyours?”

“MacDonald? Well—” Bundle hesitated. “One couldn’t exactly likeMacDonald,”sheexplainedapologetically.“Buthe’safirst-classgardener.”

“Oh!Iknowheis,”saidLadyCoote.

“He’sallrightifhe’skeptinhisplace,”saidBundle.

“Isupposeso,”saidLadyCoote.

She looked enviously at Bundle,who appeared to approach the task ofkeepingMacDonaldinhisplacesolightheartedly.

“I’djustadoreahigh-tonedgarden,”saidtheCountessdreamily.

Bundlestared,butat thatmomentadiversionoccurred.JimmyThesigerenteredtheroomandspokedirectlytoherinastrange,hurriedvoice.

“I say,will you come and see those etchings now?They’rewaiting foryou.”

Bundlelefttheroomhurriedly,Jimmyclosebehindher.

“Whatetchings?”sheasked,asthedrawingroomdoorclosedbehindher.

“Noetchings,”saidJimmy.“I’dgottosaysomethingtogetholdofyou.Comeon,Billiswaitingforusinthelibrary.There’snobodythere.”

Billwasstridingupanddownthelibrary,clearlyinaveryperturbedstateofmind.

“Lookhere,”heburstout,“Idon’tlikethis.”

“Don’tlikewhat?”

“Youbeingmixedupinthis.Tentoonethere’sgoingtobearoughhouseandthen—”

HelookedatherwithakindofpatheticdismaythatgaveBundleawarmandcomfortablefeeling.

“Sheoughttobekeptoutofit,oughtn’tshe,Jimmy?”

Heappealedtotheother.

“I’vetoldherso,”saidJimmy.

“Dashitall,Bundle,Imean—someonemightgethurt.”

BundleturnedroundtoJimmy.

“Howmuchhaveyoutoldhim?”

“Oh!everything.”

“Ihaven’tgotthehangofitallyet,”confessedBill.“YouinthatplaceinSevenDialsandallthat.”Helookedatherunhappily.“Isay,Bundle,Iwishyouwouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’twhat?”

“Getmixedupinthesesortofthings.”

“Whynot?”saidBundle.“They’reexciting.”

“Oh,yes—exciting.Buttheymaybedamnablydangerous.LookatpooroldRonny.”

“Yes,” said Bundle. “If it hadn’t been for your friend Ronny, I don’tsupposeIshouldeverhavegotwhatyoucall‘mixedup’inthisthing.ButIam.Andit’snoearthlyuseyourbleatingaboutit.”

“Iknowyou’rethemostfrightfulsport,Bundle,but—”

“Cutoutthecompliments.Let’smakeplans.”

Toherrelief,Billreactedfavourablytothesuggestion.

“You’re right about the formula,” he said. “Eberhard’s got some sort offormulawithhim,orratherSirOswaldhas.Thestuffhasbeentestedoutathis works—very secretly and all that. Eberhard has been down there withhim. They’re all in the study now—what you might call coming down tobrasstacks.”

“HowlongisSirStanleyDigbystaying?”askedJimmy.

“Goingbacktotowntomorrow.”

“H’m,” said Jimmy. “Then one thing’s quite clear. If, as I suppose, SirStanleywillbetakingtheformulawithhim,anyfunnybusinessthere’sgoingtobewillbetonight.”

“Isupposeitwill.”

“Notadoubtofit.Thatnarrowsthethingdownverycomfortably.Butthebrightladswillhavetobetheirverybrightest.Wemustcomedowntodetails.Firstofall,wherewillthesacredformulabetonight?WillEberhardhaveit,orSirOswaldCoote?”

“Neither. I understand it’s to be handed over to the Air Minister thisevening,forhimtotaketotowntomorrow.InthatcaseO’Rourkewillhaveit.Sureto.”

“Well,there’sonlyonethingforit.Ifwebelievesomeone’sgoingtohaveashotatpinchingthatpaper,we’vegottokeepwatchtonight,Bill,myboy.”

Bundleopenedhermouthas thoughtoprotest,butshut itagainwithoutspeaking.

“By the way,” continued Jimmy, “did I recognize the commissionairefromHarrodsinthehallthisevening,orwasitouroldfriendLestradefromScotlandYard?”

“Scintillating,Watson,”saidBill.

“Isuppose,”saidJimmy,“thatweareratherbuttinginonhispreserves.”

“Can’tbehelped,”saidBill.“Notifwemeantoseethisthingthrough.”

“Thenit’sagreed,”saidJimmy.“Wedividethenightintotwowatches?”

AgainBundleopenedhermouth,andagainshutitwithoutspeaking.

“Rightyouare,”agreedBill.“Who’lltakefirstduty?”

“Shallwespinforit?”

“Mightaswell.”

“Allright.Heregoes.HeadsyoufirstandIsecond.Tails,viceversa.”

Billnodded.Thecoinspunintheair.Jimmybenttolookatit.

“Tails,”hesaid.

“Damn,”saidBill.“Yougetfirsthalfandprobablyanyfunthat’sgoing.”

“Oh,youneverknow,”saidJimmy.“Criminalsareveryuncertain.WhattimeshallIwakeyou?Three?”

“That’saboutfair,Ithink.”

Andnow,atlast,Bundlespoke:

“Whataboutme?”sheasked.

“Nothingdoing.Yougotobedandsleep.”

“Oh!”saidBundle.“That’snotveryexciting.”

“You never know,” said Jimmy kindly. “Youmay bemurdered in yoursleepwhileBillandIescapescot-free.”

“Well, there’salways thatpossibility.Doyouknow, Jimmy, Idon’thalflikethelookofthatcountess.Isuspecther.”

“Nonsense,”criedBillyhotly.“She’sabsolutelyabovesuspicion.”

“Howdoyouknow?”retortedBundle.

“Because I do. Why, one of the fellows at the Hungarian Embassyvouchedforher.”

“Oh!”saidBundle,momentarilytakenabackbyhisfervour.

“You girls are all the same,” grumbledBill. “Just because she’s a jollygood-lookingwoman—”

Bundlewas only toowell-acquaintedwith this unfairmasculine line ofargument.

“Well, don’t you go and pour confidences into her shell-pink ear,” sheremarked. “I’mgoing tobed. Iwasbored stiffwith thatdrawing roomandI’mnotgoingback.”

Shelefttheroom.BilllookedatJimmy.

“GoodoldBundle,”hesaid.“Iwasafraidwemighthavetroublewithher.Youknowhowkeensheistobeineverything.Ithinkthewayshetookitwasjustwonderful.”

“SodidI,”saidJimmy.“Itstaggeredme.”

“She’s got some sense, Bundle has. She knows when a thing’s plumbimpossible.Isay,oughtn’twetohavesomelethalweapons?Chapsusuallydowhenthey’regoingonthissortofstunt.”

“Ihaveabluenosedautomatic,”saidJimmywithgentlepride.“Itweighsseveralpoundsand looksmostdangerous. I’ll lend it toyouwhen the time

comes.”

Billlookedathimwithrespectandenvy.

“Whatmadeyouthinkofgettingthat?”hesaid.

“Idon’tknow,”saidJimmycarelessly.“Itjustcametome.”

“Ihopewe shan’tgoand shoot thewrongperson,” saidBillwith someanxiety.

“Thatwouldbeunfortunate,”saidMr.Thesigergravely.

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Eighteen

JIMMY’SADVENTURES

Ourchroniclemustheresplitintothreeseparateanddistinctportions.Thenightwastoproveaneventfuloneandeachofthethreepersonsinvolvedsawitfromhisorherownindividualangle.

We will begin with that pleasant and engaging youth, Mr. JimmyThesiger,atamomentwhenhehasatlastexchangedfinalgoodnightswithhisfellowconspirator,BillEversleigh.

“Don’tforget,”saidBill,“threea.m.Ifyou’restillalive,thatis,”headdedkindly.

“I may be an ass,” said Jimmy, with rancorous remembrance of theremarkBundlehadrepeatedtohim,“butI’mnotnearlysomuchofanassasIlook.”

“That’s what you said about Gerry Wade,” said Bill slowly. “Do youremember?Andthatverynighthe—”

“Shutup,youdamnedfool,”saidJimmy.“Haven’tyougotanytact?”

“Of course I’ve got tact,” said Bill. “I’m a budding diplomatist. Alldiplomatistshavetact.”

“Ah!”saidJimmy.“Youmustbestillinwhattheycallthelarvalstage.”

“Ican’tgetoverBundle,”saidBill,revertingabruptlytoaformertopic.“Ishouldcertainlyhavesaidthatshe’dbe—well,difficult.Bundle’simproved.She’simprovedverymuch.”

“That’s what your Chief was saying,” said Jimmy. “He said he wasagreeablysurprised.”

“I thought Bundle was laying it on a bit thickmyself,” said Bill. “ButCodders is such an ass he’d swallow anything.Well, night-night. I expectyou’llhaveabitofajobwakingmewhenthetimescomes—butsticktoit.”

“Itwon’tbemuchgoodifyou’vetakenaleafoutofGerryWade’sbook,”saidJimmymaliciously.

Billlookedathimreproachfully.

“Whatthehelldoyouwanttogoandmakeachapuncomfortablefor?”hedemanded.

“I’monlygettingmyownback,”saidJimmy.“Toddlealong.”

ButBill lingered.Hestooduncomfortably, firstononefootand thenontheother.

“Lookhere,”hesaid.

“Yes?”

“WhatImeantosayis—well,Imeanyou’llbeallrightandallthat,won’tyou?It’sallverywellraggingbutwhenIthinkofpoorGerry—andthenpooroldRonny—”

Jimmy gazed at him in exasperation. Bill was one of those whoundoubtedlymeantwell,but theresultofhiseffortswouldnotbedescribedasheartening.

“Isee,”heremarked,“thatIshallhavetoshowyouLeopold.”

Heslippedhishandintothepocketofthedark-bluesuitintowhichhehadjustchangedandheldoutsomethingforBill’sinspection.

“Areal,genuine,bluenosedautomatic,”hesaidwithmodestpride.

“No.Isay,”saidBill,“isitreally?”

Hewasundoubtedlyimpressed.

“Stevens,myman,gothimforme.Warrantedcleanandmethodicalinhishabits.YoupressthebuttonandLeopolddoestherest.”

“Oh!”saidBill.“Isay,Jimmy?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful, won’t you? I mean, don’t go loosing that thing off atanybody.PrettyawkwardifyoushotoldDigbywalkinginhissleep.”

“That’sall right,”saidJimmy.“Naturally, Iwant togetvalueoutofoldLeopoldnowI’veboughthim,butI’llcurbmybloodthirstyinstinctsasfaras

possible.”

“Well,night-night,”saidBillforthefourteenthtime,andthistimereallydiddepart.

Jimmywasleftalonetotakeuphisvigil.

SirStanleyDigbyoccupiedaroomattheextremityofthewestwing.Abathroomadjoineditononeside,andontheotheracommunicatingdoorledintoasmallerroom,whichwastenantedbyMr.TerenceO’Rourke.Thedoorsof these three roomsgaveon to a short corridor.Thewatcherhada simpletask.Achairplacedinconspicuouslyintheshadowofanoakpressjustwherethecorridorranintothemaingalleryformedaperfectvantageground.Therewasnootherwayintothewestwing,andanyonegoingtoorfromitcouldnotfailtobeseen.Oneelectriclightwasstillon.

Jimmy ensconced himself comfortably, crossed his legs and waited.Leopoldlayinreadinessacrosshisknee.

Heglancedathiswatch.Itwastwentyminutestoone—justanhoursincethehouseholdhadretiredtorest.Notasoundbrokethestillness,exceptforthefar-offtickingofaclocksomewhere.

Somehowor other, Jimmydidnotmuch care for that sound. It recalledthings.GeraldWade—andthoseseventickingclocksonthemantelpiece...Whosehandhadplacedthemthere,andwhy?Heshivered.

It was a creepy business, this waiting. He didn’t wonder that thingshappenedatspiritualisticséances.Sittinginthegloom,onegotallworkedup—ready to start at the least sound. And unpleasant thoughts came in on afellow.

RonnyDevereux!RonnyDevereux andGerryWade!Both young, bothfullof lifeandenergy;ordinary, jolly,healthyyoungmen.Andnow,wherewerethey?Dankearth...wormsgettingthem...Ugh!whycouldn’theputthesehorriblethoughtsoutofhismind?

He looked again at his watch. Twentyminutes past one only. How thetimecrawled.

Extraordinarygirl,Bundle!FancyhavingthenerveanddaringactuallytogetintothemidstofthatSevenDialsplace.Whyhadn’thehadthenerveandinitiativetothinkofthat?Hesupposedbecausethethingwassofantastic.

No7.WhothehellcouldNo7be?Washe,perhaps,inthehouseatthisminute?Disguisedasaservant.Hecouldn’t,surely,beoneoftheguests.No,thatwas impossible.But then, thewhole thingwas impossible. Ifhehadn’tbelievedBundle tobeessentially truthful—well,hewouldhave thoughtshehadinventedthewholething.

Heyawned.Queer,tofeelsleepy,andyetatthesametimestrungup.Helookedagainathiswatch.Tenminutestotwo.Timewasgettingon.

Andthen,suddenly,heheldhisbreathandleanedforward,listening.Hehadheardsomething.

Theminuteswentpast. . .Thereitwasagain.Thecreakofaboard. . .But it came from downstairs somewhere. There it was again! A slight,ominouscreak.Somebodywasmovingstealthilyaboutthehouse.

Jimmysprangnoiselesslytohisfeet.Hecreptsilentlytotheheadofthestaircase.Everythingseemedperfectlyquiet.Yethewasquitecertainhehadreallyheardthatstealthysound.Itwasnotimagination.

Veryquietlyandcautiouslyhecreptdownthestaircase,Leopoldclaspedtightlyinhisrighthand.Notasoundinthebighall.Ifhehadbeencorrectinassumingthatthemuffledsoundcamefromdirectlybeneathhim,thenitmusthavecomefromthelibrary.

Jimmystoletothedoorofit, listened,butheardnothing;then,suddenlyflingingopenthedoor,heswitchedonthelights.

Nothing!Thebigroomwasfloodedwithlight.Butitwasempty.

Jimmyfrowned.

“Icouldhavesworn—”hemurmuredtohimself.

Thelibrarywasalargeroomwiththreewindowswhichopenedontotheterrace.Jimmystrodeacrosstheroom.Themiddlewindowwasunlatched.

Heopeneditandsteppedoutontotheterrace,lookingfromendtoendofit.Nothing!

“Looksallright,”hemurmuredtohimself.“Andyet—”

Heremainedforaminutelostinthought.Thenhesteppedbackintothelibrary.Crossingtothedoor,helockeditandputthekeyinhispocket.Thenheswitchedoffthelight.Hestoodforaminutelistening,thencrossedsoftly

totheopenwindowandstoodthere,Leopoldreadyinhishand.

Wasthere,orwastherenot,asoftpatteroffeetalongtheterrace?No—hisimagination.HegraspedLeopoldtightlyandstoodlistening....

Inthedistanceastableclockchimedtwo.

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Nineteen

BUNDLE’SADVENTURES

BundleBrentwasaresourcefulgirl—shewasalsoagirlofimagination.Shehad foreseen that Bill, if not Jimmy, would make objections to herparticipationinthepossibledangersofthenight.ItwasnotBundle’sideatowaste time in argument. She had laid her own plans and made her ownarrangements.Aglancefromherbedroomwindowshortlybeforedinnerhadbeen highly satisfactory. She had known that the grey walls of the Abbeywere plentifully adorned with ivy, but the ivy outside her window wasparticularly solid looking and would present no difficulties to one of herathleticpropensities.

Shehadno fault to findwithBill’s and Jimmy’sarrangements as far asthey went. But in her opinion they did not go far enough. She offered nocriticism,because she intended to see to that sideof thingsherself.Briefly,whileJimmyandBillweredevoting themselves to the insideof theAbbey,Bundleintendedtodevoteherattentionstotheoutside.

Herownmeekacquiescenceinthetamerôleassignedtohergaveheraninfinity of pleasure, though shewondered scornfully how either of the twomencouldbesoeasilydeceived.Bill,ofcourse,hadneverbeenfamousforscintillating brain power.On the other hand, he knew, or should know, hisBundle. And she considered that Jimmy Thesiger, though only slightlyacquainted with her, ought to have known better than to imagine that shecouldbesoeasilyandsummarilydisposedof.

Once in theprivacyofherown room,Bundle set rapidly towork.Firstshe discarded her evening dress and the negligible trifle which she worebeneath it,andstartedagain, so tospeak, fromthe foundations.Bundlehadnot brought hermaidwith her, and she had packed herself. Otherwise, thepuzzled Frenchwoman might have wondered why her lady took a pair ofridingbreechesandnofurtherequineequipment.

Arrayed in riding breeches, rubber-soled shoes, and a dark-coloured

pullover,Bundlewas ready for the fray.Sheglanced at the time.Asyet, itwasonlyhalfpast twelve.Tooearlyby far.Whateverwasgoing tohappenwouldnothappenforsometimeyet.Theoccupantsofthehousemustallbegiventimetogetofftosleep.HalfpastonewasthetimefixedbyBundleforthestartofoperations.

Sheswitchedoffherlightandsatdownbythewindowtowait.Punctuallyattheappointedmoment,sherose,pushedupthesashandswungherlegoverthe sill.Thenightwasa fineone, coldand still.Therewas starlightbutnomoon.

Shefoundthedescentveryeasy.BundleandhertwosistershadrunwildintheparkatChimneysassmallchildren,andtheycouldallclimblikecats.Bundlearrivedonaflowerbed,ratherbreathless,butquiteunscathed.

Shepausedaminutetotakestockofherplans.Sheknewthattheroomsoccupied by theAirMinister and his secretarywere in thewestwing; thatwastheoppositesideofthehousefromwhereBundlewasnowstanding.Aterraceranalongthesouthandwestsideofthehouse,endingabruptlyagainstawalledfruitgarden.

Bundlesteppedoutofherflowerbedandturnedthecornerofthehousetowhere the terrace began on the south side. She crept very quietly along it,keeping close to the shadow of the house. But, as she reached the secondcorner,shegotashock,foramanwasstandingthere,withtheclearintentionofbarringherway.

Thenextinstantshehadrecognizedhim.

“SuperintendentBattle!Youdidgivemeafright!”

“That’swhatI’mherefor,”saidtheSuperintendentpleasantly.

Bundle looked at him. It struck her now, as so often before, howremarkablylittlecamouflagetherewasabouthim.Hewaslargeandsolidandnoticeable. He was, somehow, very English. But of one thing Bundle wasquitesure.SuperintendentBattlewasnofool.

“Whatareyoureallydoinghere?”sheasked,stillinawhisper.

“Justseeing,”saidBattle,“thatnobody’saboutwhoshouldn’tbe.”

“Oh!”saidBundle,rathertakenaback.

“You,forinstance,LadyEileen.Idon’tsupposeyouusuallytakeawalkatthistimeofnight.”

“Doyoumean,”saidBundleslowly,“thatyouwantmetogoback?”

SuperintendentBattlenoddedapprovingly.

“You’reveryquick,LadyEileen.That’sjustwhatIdomean.Didyou—er—comeoutofadoor,orthewindow?”

“Thewindow.It’seasyasanythingclimbingdownthisivy.”

SupertintendentBattlelookedupatitthoughtfully.

“Yes,”hesaid.“Ishouldsayitwouldbe.”

“Andyouwantmetogoback?”saidBundle.“I’mrathersickaboutthat.Iwantedtogoroundontothewestterrace.”

“Perhapsyouwon’tbetheonlyonewho’llwanttodothat,”saidBattle.

“Nobodycouldmissseeingyou,”saidBundleratherspitefully.

TheSuperintendentseemedratherpleasedthanotherwise.

“Ihopetheywon’t,”hesaid.“Nounpleasantness.That’smymotto.Andif you’ll excuseme, LadyEileen, I think it’s time youwere going back tobed.”

The firmness of his tone admitted no parley.Rather crestfallen, Bundleretracedhersteps.Shewashalfwayuptheivywhenasuddenideaoccurredtoher,andshenearlyrelaxedhergripandfell.

SupposingSuperintendentBattlesuspectedher.

Therehadbeensomething—yes, surely therehadbeensomething inhismanner that vaguely suggested the idea. She couldn’t help laughing as shecrawled over the sill into her bedroom. Fancy the solid Superintendentsuspectingher!

ThoughshehadsofarobeyedBattle’sordersastoreturningtoherroom,Bundlehadnointentionofgoingtobedandsleeping.NordidshethinkthatBattle had really intended her to do so. He was not a man to expectimpossibilities.AndtoremainquiescentwhensomethingdaringandexcitingmightbegoingonwasasheerimpossibilitytoBundle.

Sheglancedatherwatch. Itwas tenminutes to two.Afteramomentor

twoofirresolution,shecautiouslyopenedherdoor.Notasound.Everythingwasstillandpeaceful.Shestolecautiouslyalongthepassage.

Once shehalted, thinking sheheard aboard creak somewhere, but thenconvincedthatshewasmistaken,shewentonagain.Shewasnowinthemaincorridor, making her way to the west wing. She reached the angle ofintersectionandpeeredcautiouslyround—thenshestaredinblanksurprise.

Thewatcher’spostwasempty.JimmyThesigerwasnotthere.

Bundle stared in complete amazement. What had happened? Why hadJimmylefthispost?Whatdiditmean?

Atthatmomentsheheardaclockstriketwo.

Shewasstillstandingthere,debatingwhattodonext,whensuddenlyherheartgavealeapandthenseemedtostandstill.ThedoorhandleofTerenceO’Rourke’sroomwasslowlyturning.

Bundlewatched,fascinated.Butthedoordidnotopen.Insteadtheknobturnedslowlytoitsoriginalposition.Whatdiditmean?

SuddenlyBundlecametoaresolution.Jimmy,forsomeunknownreason,haddesertedhispost.ShemustgetholdofBill.

Quickly and noiselessly, Bundle fled along theway she had come. SheburstunceremoniouslyintoBill’sroom.

“Bill,wakeup!Oh,dowakeup!”

Itwasanurgentwhispershesentforth,buttherecamenoresponsetoit.

“Bill,”breathedBundle.

Impatientlysheswitchedonthelights,andthenstooddumbfounded.

Theroomwasempty,andthebedhadnotevenbeensleptin.

WherethenwasBill?

Suddenly she caught her breath. This was not Bill’s room. The daintynegligéethrownoverachair,thefeminineknickknacksonthedressingtable,theblackvelveteveningdressthrowncarelesslyoverachair—Ofcourse,inherhasteshehadmistakenthedoors.ThiswastheCountessRadzky’sroom.

Butwhere,ohwhere,wasthecountess?

And just as Bundlewas asking herself this question, the silence of thenightwassuddenlybroken,andinnouncertainmanner.

Theclamourcamefrombelow.InaninstantBundlehadspedoutof theCountess’s room and downstairs. The sounds came from the library—aviolentcrashingofchairsbeingoverturned.

Bundle rattled vainly at the library door. It was locked. But she couldclearlyhearthestrugglethatwasgoingonwithin—thepantingandscuffling,curses inmany tones, the occasional crash as some light piece of furniturecameintothelineofbattle.

And then, sinister anddistinct,breaking thepeaceof thenight forgoodandall,twoshotsinrapidsuccession.

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Twenty

LORAINE’SADVENTURES

LoraineWade sat up in bed and switched on the light. Itwas exactly tenminutestoone.Shehadgonetobedearly—athalfpastnine.Shepossessedtheusefulartofbeingabletowakeherselfupattherequiredtime,soshehadbeenabletoenjoysomehoursofrefreshingsleep.

Twodogssleptintheroomwithher,andoneofthesenowraisedhisheadandlookedatherinquiringly.

“Quiet, Lurcher,” said Loraine, and the big animal put his head downagainobediently,watchingherfrombetweenhisshaggyeyelashes.

ItistruethatBundlehadoncedoubtedthemeeknessofLoraineWade,butthat briefmoment of suspicion had passed.Loraine had seemed so entirelyreasonable,sowillingtobekeptoutofeverything.

Andyet,ifyoustudiedthegirl’sface,yousawthattherewasstrengthofpurposeinthesmall,resolutejawandthelipsthatclosedtogethersofirmly.

Loraineroseanddressedherselfinatweedcoatandskirt.Intoonepocketofthecoatshedroppedanelectrictorch.Thensheopenedthedrawerofherdressing table and took out a small ivory-handled pistol—almost a toy inappearance. She had bought it the day before atHarrods and shewas verypleasedwithit.

She gave a final glance round the room to see if she had forgottenanything,andatthatmomentthebigdogroseandcameovertoher,lookingupatherwithpleadingeyesandwaggingitstail.

“No,Lurcher.Can’tgo.Missuscan’ttakeyou.Gottostayhereandbeagoodboy.”

She dropped a kiss on the dog’s head, made him lie down on his rugagain,andthenslippednoiselesslyoutof theroom,closingthedoorbehindher.

Sheletherselfoutofthehousebyasidedoorandmadeherwayroundtothe garage, where her little two-seater car was in readiness. There was agentleslope,andsheletthecarrunsilentlydownit,notstartingtheenginetillshewassomewayfromthehouse.Thensheglancedatthewatchonherarmandpressedherfootdownontheaccelerator.

She left thecarataspotshehadpreviouslymarkeddown.Therewasagapthereinthefencingthatshecouldeasilygetthrough.Afewminuteslater,slightlymuddy,LorainestoodinsidethegroundsofWyvernAbbey.

Asnoiselesslyaspossible,shemadeherwaytowardsthevenerableivy-colouredbuilding.Inthedistanceastableclockchimedtwo.

Loraine’sheartbeatfasterasshedrewnear to the terrace.Therewasnoone about—no sign of life anywhere. Everything seemed peaceful andundisturbed.Shereachedtheterraceandstoodthere,lookingabouther.

Suddenly, without the least warning, something from above fell with aflopalmostather feet.Lorainestooped topick itup. Itwasabrownpaperpacket,looselywrapped.Holdingit,Lorainelookedup.

Therewasanopenwindowjustaboveherhead,andevenasshelookedalegswungoveritandamanbegantoclimbdowntheivy.

Lorainewaitednomore.Shetooktoherheelsandran,stillclaspingthebrownpaperpacket.

Behindher, thenoise of a struggle suddenlybrokeout.Ahoarsevoice:“Lemmego”;anotherthatsheknewwell:“NotifIknowit—ah,youwould,wouldyou?”

Still Loraine ran—blindly, as though panic-stricken—right round thecorneroftheterrace—andslapintothearmsofalarge,solidlybuiltman.

“There,there,”saidSuperintendentBattlekindly.

Lorainewasstrugglingtospeak.

“Oh,quick!—oh,quick!They’rekillingeachother.Oh,dobequick!”

Therewasasharpcrackofarevolvershot—andthenanother.

Superintendent Battle started to run. Loraine followed. Back round thecorneroftheterraceandalongtothelibrarywindow.Thewindowwasopen.

Battle stooped and switched on an electric torch. Loraine was closebehindhim,peeringoverhisshoulder.Shegavealittlesobbinggasp.

OnthethresholdofthewindowlayJimmyThesigerinwhatlookedlikeapoolofblood.Hisrightarmlaydanglinginacuriousposition.

Lorainegaveasharpcry.

“He’sdead,”shewailed.“Oh,Jimmy—Jimmy—he’sdead!”

“Now, now,” said SuperintendentBattle soothingly. “Don’t you take onso.The young gentleman isn’t dead, I’ll be bound. See if you can find thelightsandturnthemon.”

Loraineobeyed.Shestumbledacross the room, found theswitchby thedoorandpressed itdown.Theroomwasfloodedwith light.SuperintendentBattleutteredasighofrelief.

“It’sallright—he’sonlyshotintherightarm.He’sfaintedthroughlossofblood.Comeandgivemeahandwithhim.”

There was a pounding on the library door. Voices were heard, asking,expostulating,demanding.

Lorainelookeddoubtfullyatit.

“ShallI—?”

“Nohurry,”saidBattle.“We’lllettheminpresently.Youcomeandgivemeahand.”

Lorainecameobediently.TheSuperintendenthadproducedalarge,cleanpocket handkerchief and was neatly bandaging the wounded man’s arm.Lorainehelpedhim.

“He’llbeallright,”saidtheSuperintendent.“Don’tyouworry.Asmanylivesascats,theseyoungfellows.Itwasn’tthelossofbloodknockedhimouteither.Hemusthavecaughthisheadacrackonthefloorashefell.”

Outside,theknockingonthedoorhadbecometremendous.ThevoiceofGeorgeLomax,furiouslyupraised,cameloudanddistinct:

“Whoisinthere?Openthedooratonce.”

SuperintendentBattlesighed.

“Isupposeweshallhaveto,”hesaid.“Apity.”

Hiseyesdartedround,takinginthescene.AnautomaticlaybyJimmy’sside.TheSuperintendentpickeditupgingerly,holdingitverydelicately,andexaminedit.Hegruntedandlaiditonthetable.Thenhesteppedacrossandunlockedthedoor.

Severalpeoplefellintotheroom.Nearlyeverybodysaidsomethingatthesameminute.GeorgeLomax,splutteringwithobduratewordswhichrefusedtocomewithsufficientfluency,exclaimed:

“The—the—the meaning of this? Ah! It’s you, Superintendent; what’shappened?Isay—whathas—happened?”

BillEversleighsaid;“MyGod!OldJimmy!”andstaredatthelimpfigureontheground.

LadyCoote,cladinaresplendentpurpledressinggown,criedout:“Thepoor boy!” and swept past SuperintendentBattle to bend over the prostrateJimmyinamotherlyfashion.

Bundlesaid:“Loraine!”

HerrEberhardsaid:“GottimHimmel!”andotherwordsofthatnature.

SirStanleyDigbysaid:“MyGod,what’sallthis?”

A housemaid said: “Look at the blood,” and screamedwith pleasurableexcitement.

Afootmansaid:“Lor!”

The butler said,with a good dealmore bravery in hismanner than hadbeennoticeableafewminutesearlier:“Nowthen,thiswon’tdo!”andwavedawayunderservants.

The efficientMr. Rupert Bateman said toGeorge: “Shall we get rid ofsomeofthesepeople,sir?”

Thentheyalltookfreshbreath.

“Incredible!”saidGeorgeLomax.“Battle,whathashappened?”

Battlegavehimalook,andGeorge’sdiscreethabitsassumedtheirusualway.

“Now then,” he said, moving to the door, “everyone go back to bed,please.There’sbeena—er—”

“Alittleaccident,”saidSuperintendentBattleeasily.

“A—er—anaccident.Ishallbemuchobligedifeveryonewillgobacktobed.”

Everyonewasclearlyreluctanttodoso.

“LadyCoote—please—”

“Thepoorboy,”saidLadyCooteinamotherlyfashion.

She rose fromakneelingpositionwithgreat reluctance.Andas shedidso,Jimmystirredandsatup.

“Hallo!”hesaidthickly.“What’sthematter?”

Helookedroundhimvacantlyforaminuteor twoandthenintelligencereturnedtohiseye.

“Haveyougothim?hedemandedeagerly.

“Gotwho?”

“Theman.Climbeddown the ivy. Iwasby thewindow there.Grabbedhimandwehadnoendofaset-to—”

“One of those nasty, murderous cat burglars,” said Lady Coote. “Poorboy.”

Jimmywaslookingroundhim.

“I say—I’m afraidwe—er—havemade rather amess of things. Fellowwasasstrongasanoxandwewentfairlywaltzinground.”

Theconditionof theroomwasclearproofof thisstatement.Everythinglight and breakablewithin a range of twelve feet that could be brokenhadbeenbroken.

“Andwhathappenedthen?”

ButJimmywaslookingroundforsomething.

“Where’sLeopold?Theprideofthebluenosedautomatics?”

Battleindicatedthepistolonthetable.

“Isthisyours,Mr.Thesiger?”

“That’sright.That’slittleLeopold.Howmanyshotshavebeenfired?”

“Oneshot.”

Jimmylookedchagrined.

“I’mdisappointed inLeopold,” hemurmured. “I can’t have pressed thebuttonproperly,orhe’dhavegoneonshooting.”

“Whoshotfirst?”

“Idid,I’mafraid,”saidJimmy.“Yousee,themantwistedhimselfoutofmygraspsuddenly.IsawhimmakingforthewindowandIclosedmyfingerdownonLeopoldandlethimhaveit.Heturnedinthewindowandfiredatmeand—well,IsupposeafterthatItookthecount.”

Herubbedhisheadratherruefully.

ButSirStanleyDigbywassuddenlyalert.

“Climbing down the ivy, you said? My God, Lomax, you don’t thinkthey’vegotawaywithit?”

Herushedfromtheroom.Forsomecuriousreasonnobodyspokeduringhis absence. In a fewminutesSirStanley returned.His round, chubby facewaswhiteasdeath.

“My God, Battle,” he said, “they’ve got it. O’Rourke’s fast asleep—drugged,Ithink.Ican’twakehim.Andthepapershavevanished.”

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Twenty-one

THERECOVERYOFTHEFORMULA

“DerliebeGott!”saidHerrEberhardinawhisper.

Hisfacehadgonechalkywhite.

GeorgeturnedafaceofdignifiedreproachonBattle.

“Isthistrue,Battle?Ileftallarrangementsinyourhands.”

The rock-like quality of the Superintendent showed out well. Not amuscleofhisfacemoved.

“Thebestofusaredefeatedsometimes,sir,”hesaidquietly.

“Thenyoumean—youreallymean—thatthedocumentisgone?”

Buttoeveryone’ssurpriseSuperintendentBattleshookhishead.

“No,no,Mr.Lomax, it’snotsobadasyouthink.Everything’sall right.Butyoucan’tlaythecreditforitatmydoor.You’vegottothankthisyounglady.”

HeindicatedLoraine,whostaredathiminsurprise.Battlesteppedacrosstoherandgently took thebrownpaperparcelwhichshewasstillclutchingmechanically.

“Ithink,Mr.Lomax,”hesaid,“thatyouwillfindwhatyouwanthere.”

SirStanleyDigby,quickerinactionthanGeorge,snatchedatthepackageand tore it open, investigating its contents eagerly.A sigh of relief escapedhimandhemoppedhisbrow.HerrEberhardfelluponthechildofhisbrainandclaspedittohisheart,whilstatorrentofGermanburstfromhim.

SirStanleyturnedtoLoraine,shakingherwarmlybythehand.

“My dear young lady,” he said, “we are infinitely obliged to you, I amsure.”

“Yes,indeed,”saidGeorge.“ThoughI—er—”

He paused in some perplexity, staring at a young ladywhowas a totalstranger to him. Loraine looked appealingly at Jimmy, who came to therescue.

“We—thisisMissWade.”saidJimmy.“GeraldWade’ssister.”

“Indeed,”saidGeorge,shakingherwarmlyby thehand.“MydearMissWade, Imust expressmy deep gratitude to you forwhat you have done. ImustconfessthatIdonotquitesee—”

Hepauseddelicatelyandfourofthepersonspresentfeltthatexplanationsweregoingtobefraughtwithmuchdifficulty.SuperintendentBattlecametotherescue.

“Perhapswe’dbetternotgointothatjustnow,sir,”hesuggestedtactfully.

TheefficientMr.Batemancreatedafurtherdiversion.

“Wouldn’t itbewiseforsomeone tosee toO’Rourke?Don’tyou think,sir,thatadoctorhadbetterbesentfor?”

“Of course,” said George. “Of course. Most remiss of us not to havethought of it before.” He looked towards Bill. “Get Dr. Cartwright on thetelephone.Askhimtocome.Justhint,ifyoucan,that—er—discretionshouldbeobserved.”

Billwentoffonhiserrand.

“I will come up with you, Digby,” said George. “Something, possibly,could be done—measures should, perhaps, be taken—whilst awaiting thearrivalofthedoctor.”

HelookedratherhelplesslyatRupertBateman.Efficiencyalwaysmakesitselffelt.ItwasPongowhowasreallyinchargeofthesituation.

“ShallIcomeupwithyou,sir?”

George accepted the offer with relief. Here, he felt, was someone onwhom he could lean. He experienced that sense of complete trust in Mr.Bateman’sefficiencywhichcametoallthosewhoencounteredthatexcellentyoungman.

Thethreemenlefttheroomtogether.LadyCoote,murmuringindeeprichtones:“Thepooryoungfellow.PerhapsIcoulddosomething—”hurriedafterthem.

“That’s a very motherly woman,” observed the Superintendentthoughtfully.“Averymotherlywoman.Iwonder—”

Threepairsofeyeslookedathiminquiringly.

“Iwaswondering,”saidSuperintendentBattleslowly,“whereSirOswaldCootemaybe.”

“Oh!”gaspedLoraine.“Doyouthinkhe’sbeenmurdered?”

Battleshookhisheadatherreproachfully.

“Noneedforanythingsomelodramatic,”hesaid.“No—Iratherthink—”

He paused, his head on one side, listening—one large hand raised toenjoinsilence.

Inanotherminutetheyallheardwhathissharperearshadbeenthefirsttonotice.Footstepscomingalongtheterraceoutside.Theyrangoutclearlywithnokindofsubterfugeaboutthem.Inanotherminutethewindowwasblockedbyabulkyfigurewhichstoodthereregardingthemandwhoconveyed,inanoddway,asenseofdominatingthesituation.

SirOswald, for itwas he, looked slowly from one face to another.Hiskeen eyes took in the details of the situation. Jimmy, with his roughlybandagedarm;Bundle,inhersomewhatanomalousattire;Loraine,aperfectstranger to him. His eyes came last to Superintendent Battle. He spokesharplyandcrisply.

“What’sbeenhappeninghere,officer?”

“Attemptedrobbery,sir.”

“Attempted—eh?”

“Thanks to this young lady,MissWade, the thieves failed to get awaywithit.”

“Ah!” he said again, his scrutiny ended. “And now, officer,what aboutthis?”

HeheldoutasmallMauserpistolwhichhecarrieddelicatelybythebutt.

“Wheredidyoufindthat,SirOswald?”

“Onthelawnoutside.Ipresumeitmusthavebeenthrowndownbyoneofthe thieves as he took to his heels. I’ve held it carefully, as I thought you

mightwishtoexamineitforfingerprints.”

“Youthinkofeverything,SirOswald,”saidBattle.

Hetookthepistolfromtheother,handlingitwithequalcare,andlaiditdownonthetablebesideJimmy’sColt.

“Andnow,ifyouplease,”saidSirOswald,“Ishouldliketohearexactlywhatoccurred.”

SuperintendentBattlegaveabrief résuméof theeventsof thenight.SirOswaldfrownedthoughtfully.

“I understand,” he said sharply. “After wounding and disabling Mr.Thesiger, theman took tohisheelsand ran, throwingaway thepistolashedidso.WhatIcannotunderstandiswhynoonepursuedhim.”

“It wasn’t till we heard Mr. Thesiger’s story that we knew there wasanyonetopursue,”remarkedSuperintendentBattledryly.

“Youdidn’t—er—catchsightofhimmakingoffasyouturnedthecorneroftheterrace?”

“No, Imissedhimby just about forty seconds, I should say.There’snomoon and he’d be invisible as soon as he’d left the terrace.Hemust haveleaptforitassoonashe’dfiredtheshot.”

“H’m,” said Sir Oswald. “I still think that a search should have beenorganized.Someoneelseshouldhavebeenposted—”

“There are three of my men in the grounds,” said the Superintendentquietly.

“Oh!”SirOswaldseemedrathertakenaback.

“They were told to hold and detain anyone attempting to leave thegrounds.”

“Andyet—theyhaven’tdoneso?”

“Andyettheyhaven’tdoneso,”agreedBattlegravely.

SirOswaldlookedathimasthoughsomethinginthewordspuzzledhim.Hesaidsharply:

“Areyoutellingmeallthatyouknow,SuperintendentBattle?”

“All that I know—yes, Sir Oswald. What I think is a different matter.Maybe I think some rather curious things—but until thinking’s got yousomewhereit’snousetalkingaboutit.”

“Andyet,”saidSirOswaldslowly,“Ishouldliketoknowwhatyouthink,SuperintendentBattle.”

“Forone thing,sir, I think there’sa lot toomuch ivyabout thisplace—excuseme,sir,you’vegotabitonyourcoat—yes,agreatdealtoomuchivy.Itcomplicatesthings.”

Sir Oswald stared at him, but any reply he might have contemplatedmakingwasarrestedbytheentranceofRupertBateman.

“Oh, there you are, Sir Oswald. I’m so glad. Lady Coote has justdiscoveredthatyouweremissing—andshehasbeeninsistinguponitthatyouhadbeenmurderedby the thieves. I really, think,SirOswald, that youhadbettercometoheratonce.Sheisterriblyupset.”

“Mariaisanincrediblyfoolishwoman,”saidSirOswald.“WhyshouldIbemurdered?I’llcomewithyou,Bateman.”

Helefttheroomwithhissecretary.

“That’s a very efficient young man,” said Battle, looking after them.“What’shisname—Bateman?”

Jimmynodded.

“Bateman—Rupert,” he said. “Commonly known as Pongo. I was atschoolwithhim.”

“Wereyou?Now,that’sinteresting,Mr.Thesiger.Whatwasyouropinionofhiminthosedays?”

“Oh,hewasalwaysthesamesortofass.”

“Ishouldn’thavethought,”saidBattlemildly,“thathewasanass.”

“Oh,youknowwhatImean.Ofcoursehewasn’treallyanass.Tonsofbrains and always swotting at things. But deadly serious. No sense ofhumour.”

“Ah!”saidSuperintendentBattle.“That’sapity.Gentlemenwhohavenosense of humour get to taking themselves too seriously—and that leads to

mischief.”

“I can’t imagine Pongo getting intomischief,” said Jimmy. “He’s doneextremelywellforhimselfsofar—dughimself inwitholdCooteandlookslikebeingapermanencyinthejob.”

“SuperintendentBattle,”saidBundle.

“Yes,LadyEileen?”

“Don’tyouthinkitveryoddthatSirOswalddidn’tsaywhathewasdoingwanderingaboutinthegardeninthemiddleofthenight?”

“Ah!” saidBattle. “SirOswald’s a greatman—and a greatman alwaysknowsbetterthantoexplainunlessanexplanationisdemanded.Torushintoexplanations and excuses is always a sign ofweakness. SirOswald knowsthataswellasIdo.He’snotgoingtocomeinexplainingandapologizing—not he. He just stalks in and haulsme over the coals. He’s a bigman, SirOswald.”

Such a warm admiration sounded in the Superintendent’s tones thatBundlepursuedthesubjectnofurther.

“And now,” said Superintendent Battle, looking round with a slighttwinkleinhiseye,“nowthatwe’retogetherandfriendlylike—Ishould liketohearjusthowMissWadehappenedtoarriveonthescenesopat.”

“Sheoughttobeashamedofherself,”saidJimmy.“Hood-winkingusallasshedid.”

“WhyshouldIbekeptoutofitall?”criedLorainepassionately.“Inevermeant to be—no, not the very first day in your rooms when you bothexplainedhow thebest thing forme todowas to stayquietly at homeandkeepoutofdanger.Ididn’tsayanything,butImadeupmymindthen.”

“Ihalfexpectedit,”saidBundle.“Youweresosurprisinglymeekaboutit.Imighthaveknownyouwereuptosomething.”

“Ithoughtyouwereremarkablysensible,”saidJimmyThesiger.

“Youwould,Jimmydear,”saidLoraine.“Itwaseasyenoughtodeceiveyou.”

“Thankyoufor thesekindwords,”saidJimmy.“Goon,anddon’tmindme.”

“When you rang up and said there might be danger, I was moredetermined than ever,” went on Loraine. “I went to Harrods and bought apistol.Hereitis.”

Sheproduced thedaintyweaponandSuperintendentBattle took it fromherandexaminedit.

“Quiteadeadlylittletoy,MissWade,”hesaid.“Haveyouhadmuch—er—practicewithit?”

“Noneatall,”saidLoraine.“ButIthoughtifItookitwithme—well,thatitwouldgivemeacomfortingfeeling.”

“Quiteso,”saidBattlegravely.

“Myideawastocomeoverhereandseewhatwasgoingon.Ileftmycarintheroadandclimbedthroughthehedgeandcameuptotheterrace.Iwasjustlookingaboutmewhen—plop—somethingfellrightatmyfeet.Ipickeditupandthenlookedtoseewhereitcouldhavecomefrom.AndthenIsawthemanclimbingdowntheivyandIran.”

“Just so,” said Battle. “Now,MissWade, can you describe the man atall?”

Thegirlshookherhead.

“Itwastoodarktoseemuch.Ithinkhewasabigman—butthat’saboutall.”

“Andnowyou,Mr.Thesiger.”Battleturnedtohim.“Youstruggledwiththeman—canyoutellmeanythingabouthim?”

“Hewas a pretty hefty individual—that’s all I can say. He gave a fewhoarsewhispers—that’swhen Ihadhimby the throat.Hesaid ‘Lemmego,guvnor,’somethinglikethat.”

“Anuneducatedman,then?”

“Yes,Isupposehewas.Hespokelikeone.”

“I still don’t quite understand about the packet,” said Loraine. “Whyshould he throw it down as he did? Was it because it hampered himclimbing?”

“No,” saidBattle. “I’vegot an entirelydifferent theory about that.That

packet,MissWade,wasdeliberatelythrowndowntoyou—orsoIbelieve.”

“Tome?”

“Shallwesay—tothepersonthethiefthoughtyouwere.”

“Thisisgettingveryinvolved,”saidJimmy.

“Mr.Thesiger,whenyoucameintothisroom,didyouswitchonthelightatall?”

“Yes.”

“Andtherewasnooneintheroom?”

“Nooneatall.”

“But previously you thought you heard someone moving about downhere?”

“Yes.”

“Andthen,aftertryingthewindow,youswitchedoffthelightagainandlockedthedoor?”

Jimmynodded.

SuperintendentBattlelookedslowlyaroundhim.HisglancewasarrestedbyabigscreenofSpanishleatherwhichstoodnearoneofthebookcases.

Brusquelyhestrodeacrosstheroomandlookedbehindit.

He uttered a sharp ejaculation, which brought the three young peoplequicklytohisside.

Huddledonthefoor,inadeadfaint,laytheCountessRadzky.

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Twenty-two

THECOUNTESSRADZKY’SSTORY

The Countess’s return to consciousness was very different from that ofJimmyThesiger.Itwasmoreprolongedandinfinitelymoreartistic.

ArtisticwasBundle’sword.Shehadbeenzealousinherministrations—largely consisting of the application of cold water—and the Countess hadinstantly responded, passing awhite, bewildered hand across her brow andmurmuringfaintly.

ItwasatthispointthatBill,atlastrelievedfromhisdutieswithtelephoneanddoctors,hadcomebustlingintotheroomandhadinstantlyproceededtomake(inBundle’sopinion)amostregrettableidiotofhimself.

Hehadhungover theCountesswith a concerned and anxious face andhadaddressedaseriesofsingularlyidioticremarkstoher:

“Isay,Countess.It’sallright.It’sreallyallright.Don’ttrytotalk.It’sbadforyou.Justliestill.You’llbeallrightinaminute.It’llallcomebacktoyou.Don’tsayanythingtillyou’requiteallright.Takeyourtime.Justliestillandcloseyoureyes.You’llremembereverythinginaminute.Haveanothersipofwater.Havesomebrandy.That’sthestuff.Don’tyouthink,Bundle,thatsomebrandy...?”

“ForGod’ssake,Bill,leaveheralone,”saidBundlecrossly.“She’llbeallright.”

AndwithanexperthandsheflippedagooddealofcoldwaterontotheexquisitemakeupoftheCountess’sface.

The Countess flinched and sat up. She looked considerably more wideawake.

“Ah!”shemurmured.“Iamhere.Yes,Iamhere.”

“Takeyoutime,”saidBill.“Don’ttalktillyoufeelquiteallrightagain.”

TheCountessdrewthefoldsofaverytransparentnegligéecloseraroundher.

“Itiscomingbacktome,”shemurmured.“Yes,itiscomingback.”

Shelookedatthelittlecrowdgroupedaroundher.Perhapssomethinginthe attentive faces struck her as unsympathetic. In any case she smileddeliberately up at the one face which clearly displayed a very oppositeemotion.

“Ah,mybigEnglishman,”shesaidverysoftly,“donotdistressyourself.Alliswellwithme.”

“Oh!Isay,butareyousure?”demandedBillanxiously.

“Quite sure.”She smiledathim reassuringly. “WeHungarians,wehavenervesofsteel.”

A look of intense relief passed over Bill’s face. A fatuous look settleddownthereinstead—alookwhichmadeBundleearnestlylongtokickhim.

“Havesomewater,”shesaidcoldly.

The Countess refused water. Jimmy, kindlier to beauty in distress,suggested a cocktail. The Countess reacted favourably to this suggestion.When she had swallowed it, she looked round oncemore, this timewith aliveliereye.

“Tellme,whathashappened?”shedemandedbriskly.

“Wewerehopingyoumightbeable to tellus that,”saidSuperintendentBattle.

TheCountesslookedathimsharply.Sheseemedtobecomeawareofthebig,quietmanforthefirsttime.

“Iwent to your room,” saidBundle. “The bed hadn’t been slept in andyouweren’tthere.”

She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess. The latter closed hereyesandnoddedherheadslowly.

“Yes, yes, I remember it all now.Oh, it was horrible!” She shuddered.“Doyouwantmetotellyou?”

SuperintendentBattlesaid,“Ifyouplease”at thesamemomentthatBill

said,“Notifyoudon’tfeeluptoit.”

TheCountesslookedfromonetotheother,butthequiet,masterfuleyeofSuperintendentBattlewonthegame.

“Icouldnotsleep,”begantheCountess.“Thehouse—itoppressedme.Iwasall,asyousay,onwires,thecatonthehotbricks.IknewthatinthestateIwas in itwasuseless to thinkofgoing tobed. Iwalkedaboutmyroom.Iread.Butthebooksplacedtheredidnotinterestmegreatly.IthoughtIwouldcomedownandfindsomethingmoreabsorbing.”

“Verynatural,”saidBill.

“Veryoftendone,Ibelieve,”saidBattle.

“Soassoonastheideaoccurredtome,I leftmyroomandcamedown.Thehousewasverystill—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Superintendent, “but can you give me anideaofthetimewhenthisoccurred?”

“Ineverknowthe time,”said theCountesssuperbly,andsweptonwithherstory.

“Thehousewasveryquiet.Onecouldevenhear the littlemouserun, iftherehadbeenone.Icomedownthestairs—veryquietly—”

“Veryquietly?”

“Naturally I do not want to disturb the household,” said the Countessreproachfully.“Icomeinhere.IgointothiscornerandIsearchtheshelvesforasuitablebook.”

“Havingofcourseswitchedonthelight?”

“No,Ididnotswitchonthelight.Ihad,yousee,mylittleelectrictorchwithme.Withthat,Iscannedtheshelves.”

“Ah!”saidtheSuperintendent.

“Suddenly,” continued the Countess dramatically, “I hear something. Astealthy sound. A muffled footstep. I switch out my torch and listen. Thefootstepsdrawnearer—stealthy,horriblefootsteps.Ishrinkbehindthescreen.Inanotherminutethedooropensandthelightisswitchedon.Theman—theburglarisintheroom.”

“Yes,butIsay—”beganMr.Thesiger.

A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that Superintendent Battlewasgivinghimahint,Jimmyshutup.

“Inearlydiedoffear,”continuedtheCountess.“Itriednottobreathe.Themanwaitedforaminute,listening.Then,stillwiththathorrible,stealthytread—”

AgainJimmyopenedhismouthinprotest,andagainshutit.

“—he crossed to the window and peered out. He remained there for aminute or two, then he recrossed the room and turned out the lights again,lockingthedoor.Iamterrified.Heisintheroom,movingstealthilyaboutinthedark.Ah,itishorrible.Supposeheshouldcomeuponmeinthedark!Inanotherminute I hear him again by thewindow. Then silence. I hope thatperhapshemayhavegoneout thatway.As theminutespassand Ihearnofurthersound,Iamalmostsurethathehasdoneso.IndeedIamintheveryact of switching on my torch and investigating when—prestissimo!—it allbegins.”

“Yes?”

“Ah!Butitwasterrible—never—nevershallIforgetit!Twomentryingtomurder eachother.Oh, itwashorrible!They reeledabout the room,andfurniture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I heard a womanscream—but that was not in the room. It was outside somewhere. Thecriminal had a hoarse voice.He croaked rather than spoke.He kept saying‘Lemmego—lemmego.’Theothermanwasagentleman.HehadaculturedEnglishvoice.”

Jimmylookedgratified.

“Heswore—mostly,”continuedtheCountess.

“Clearlyagentleman,”saidSuperintendentBattle.

“Andthen,”continuedtheCountess,“aflashandashot.Thebullethitthebookcasebesideme.I—IsupposeImusthavefainted.”

ShelookedupatBill.Hetookherhandandpattedit.

“Youpoordear,”hesaid.“Howrottenforyou.”

“Sillyidiot,”thoughtBundle.

Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noiseless feet over to thebookcasealittletotherightofthescreen.Hebentdown,searching.Presentlyhestoopedandpickedsomethingup.

“It wasn’t a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It’s the shell of the cartridge.Wherewereyoustandingwhenyoufired,Mr.Thesiger.”

Jimmytookupapositionbythewindow.

“AsnearlyasIcansee,abouthere.”

SuperintendentBattleplacedhimselfinthesamespot.

“That’sright,”heagreed.“Theemptyshellwouldthrowrightrear.It’sa.455.Idon’twondertheCountessthoughtitwasabulletinthedark.Ithitthebookcase about a foot fromher. The bullet itself grazed thewindow frameand we’ll find it outside tomorrow—unless your assailant happens to becarryingitaboutinhim.”

Jimmyshookhisheadregretfully.

“Leopold,Ifear,didnotcoverhimselfwithglory,”heremarkedsadly.

TheCountesswaslookingathimwithmostflatteringattention.

“Yourarm!”sheexclaimed.“Itisalltiedup!Wasityouthen—?”

Jimmymadeheramockbow.

“I’m so glad I’ve got a cultured, English voice,” he said. “And I canassureyouthatIwouldn’thavedreamedofusingthelanguageIdidifIhadhadanysuspicionthataladywaspresent.”

“I did not understand all of it,” the Countess hastened to explain.“AlthoughIhadanEnglishgovernesswhenIwasyoung—”

“It isn’t the sort of thing she’d be likely to teach you,” agreed Jimmy.“Kept you busy with your uncle’s pen, and the umbrella of the gardener’sniece.Iknowthesortofstuff.”

“Butwhat has happened?” asked theCountess. “That iswhat Iwant toknow.Idemandtoknowwhathashappened.”

Therewasamoment’ssilencewhilsteverybodylookedatSuperintendentBattle.

“It’sverysimple,”saidBattlemildly.“Attemptedrobbery.Somepolitical

papersstolenfromSirStanleyDigby.Thethievesnearlygotawaywiththem,butthankstothisyounglady”—heindicatedLoraine—“theydidn’t.”

TheCountessflashedaglanceatthegirl—ratheranoddglance.

“Indeed,”shesaidcoldly.

“A very fortunate coincidence that she happened to be there,” saidSuperintendentBattle,smiling.

TheCountessgavealittlesighandhalfclosedhereyesagain.

“Itisabsurd,butIstillfeelextremelyfaint,”shemurmured.

“Ofcourseyoudo,”criedBill.“Letmehelpyouuptoyourroom.Bundlewillcomewithyou.”

“ItisverykindofLadyEileen,”saidtheCountess,“butIshouldprefertobe alone. I am really quite all right. Perhaps you will just helpme up thestairs.”

Sherosetoherfeet,acceptedBill’sarmand,leaningheavilyonit,wentout of the room. Bundle followed as far as the hall, but, the Countessreiterating her assurance—with some tartness—that shewas quite all right,shedidnotaccompanythemupstairs.

But as she stood watching the Countess’s graceful form, supported byBill,slowlymountingthestairway,shestiffenedsuddenlytoacuteattention.TheCountess’snegligée,aspreviouslymentioned,wasthin—amereveiloforange chiffon. Through it Bundle saw distinctly below the right shoulderbladeasmallblackmole.

Withagasp,Bundle swung impetuously round towhereSuperintendentBattlewas justemergingfromthe library.JimmyandLorainehadprecededhim.

“There,”saidBattle.“I’vefastened thewindowand therewillbeamanondutyoutside.AndI’lllockthedoorandtakethekey.Inthemorningwe’lldowhattheFrenchcallreconstructthecrime—Yes,LadyEileen,whatisit?”

“SuperintendentBattle,Imustspeakwithyou,—atonce.”

“Why,certainly,I—”

GeorgeLomaxsuddenlyappeared,Dr.Cartwrightbyhisside.

“Ah,thereyouare,Battle.You’llberelievedtohearthatthere’snothingseriouslywrongwithO’Rourke.”

“Inever thought therewouldbemuchwrongwithMr.O’Rourke,” saidBattle.

“He’s had a strong hypodermic administered to him,” said the doctor.“He’llwakeperfectlyallrightinthemorning,perhapsabitofahead,perhapsnot.Nowthen,youngman,let’slookatthisbulletwoundofyours.”

“Comeon,nurse,”saidJimmytoLoraine.“Comeandhold thebasinormyhand.Witnessastrongman’sagony.Youknowthestunt.”

Jimmy, Loraine and the doctor went off together. Bundle continued tothrow agonized glances in the direction of Superintendent Battle, who hadbeenbuttonholedbyGeorge.

The Superintendent waited patiently till a pause occurred in George’sloquacity.Hethenswiftlytookadvantageofit.

“Iwonder, sir, if ImighthaveawordprivatelywithSirStanley? In thelittlestudyattheendthere.”

“Certainly,”saidGeorge.“Certainly.I’llgoandfetchhimatonce.”

Hehurriedoffupstairsagain.BattledrewBundleswiftlyintothedrawingroomandshutthedoor.

“Now,LadyEileen,whatisit?”

“I’lltellyouasquicklyasIcan—butit’sratherlongandcomplicated.”

As concisely as she could,Bundle relatedher introduction to theSevenDials Club and her subsequent adventures there. When she had finished,Superintendent Battle drew a long breath. For once, his facial woodennesswaslaidaside.

“Remarkable,”hesaid.“Remarkable.Iwouldn’thavebelieveditpossible—evenforyou,LadyEileen.Ioughttohaveknownbetter.”

“Butyoudidgivemeahint,SuperintendentBattle.You toldme toaskBillEversleigh.”

“It’sdangeroustogivepeoplelikeyouahint,LadyEileen.Ineverdreamtofyourgoingtothelengthsyouhave.”

“Well, it’s all right, SuperintendentBattle.Mydeath doesn’t lie at yourdoor.”

“Notyet,itdoesn’t,”saidBattlegrimly.

Hestoodasthoughinthought,turningthingsoverinhismind.“WhatMr.Thesigerwas about, lettingyou run into danger like that, I can’t think,” hesaidpresently.

“Hedidn’tknowtillafterwards,”saidBundle.“I’mnotacompletemug,SuperintendentBattle.And,anyway,he’sgothishandsfulllookingafterMissWade.”

“Isthatso?”saidtheSuperintendent.“Ah!”

Hetwinkledalittle.

“IshallhavetodetailMr.Eversleightolookafteryou,LadyEileen.”

“Bill!” said Bundle contemptuously. “But, Superintendent Battle, youhaven’t heard the end ofmy story. Thewoman I saw there—Anna—No1.Yes,No1istheCountessRadzky.”

Andrapidlyshewentontodescribeherrecognitionofthemole.

TohersurprisetheSuperintendenthemmedandhawed.

“Amoleisn’tmuchtogoupon,LadyEileen.Twowomenmighthaveanidenticalmoleveryeasily.YoumustrememberthattheCountessRadzkyisaverywell-knownfigureinHungary.”

“Then this isn’t the realCountessRadzky. I tellyouI’msure this is thesamewomanIsawthere.Andlookathertonight—thewaywefoundher.Idon’tbelievesheeverfaintedatall.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t say that, Lady Eileen. That empty shell striking thebookcasebesidehermighthavefrightenedanywomanhalfoutofherwits.”

“Butwhatwasshedoingthereanyway?Onedoesn’tcomedowntolookforabookwithanelectrictorch.”

Battle scratched his cheek.He seemed unwilling to speak.He began topaceupanddowntheroom,asthoughmakinguphismind.Atlastheturnedtothegirl.

“Seehere,LadyEileen,I’mgoingtotrustyou.TheCountess’sconductis

suspicious.Iknowthataswellasyoudo.It’sverysuspicious—butwe’vegottogocarefully.Theremustn’tbeanyunpleasantnesswiththeEmbassies.Onehasgottobesure.”

“Isee.Ifyouweresure...”

“There’ssomethingelse.During thewar,LadyEileen, therewasagreatoutcryaboutGermanspiesbeingleftatlarge.Busybodieswroteletterstothepapersabout it.Wepaidnoattention.Hardwordsdidn’thurtus.Thesmallfrywereleftalone.Why?Becausethroughthem,soonerorlater,wegotthebigfellow—themanatthetop.”

“Youmean?”

“Don’tbotheraboutwhatImean,LadyEileen.Butrememberthis.IknowallabouttheCountess.AndIwantherletalone.”

“And now,” added Superintendent Battle ruefully, “I’ve got to think ofsomethingtosaytoSirStanleyDigby!”

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Twenty-three

SUPERINTENDENTBATTLEINCHARGE

Itwasteno’clockonthefollowingmorning.Thesunpouredinthroughthewindowsof thelibrary,whereSuperintendentBattlehadbeenatworksincesix.Onasummonsfromhim,GeorgeLomax,SirOswaldCooteandJimmyThesigerhadjustjoinedhim,havingrepairedthefatiguesofthenightwithasubstantialbreakfast. Jimmy’sarmwas inasling,buthebore little traceofthenight’saffray.

TheSuperintendent eyed all threeof thembenevolently, somewhatwiththe air of akindly curator explaining amuseum to little boys.On the tablebeside him were various objects, neatly labelled. Amongst them JimmyrecognizedLeopold.

“Ah, Superintendent,” saidGeorge, “I have been anxious to know howyouhaveprogressed.Haveyoucaughttheman?”

“He’lltakealotofcatching,hewill,”saidtheSuperintendent.

Hisfailureinthatrespectdidnotappeartoranklewithhim.

GeorgeLomaxdidnot lookparticularlywell-pleased.Hedetested levityofanykind.

“I’vegoteverythingtapedoutprettyclearly,”wentonthedetective.

Hetookuptwoobjectsfromthetable.

“Here we’ve got the two bullets. The largest is a .455, fired fromMr.Thesiger’sColtautomatic.GrazedthewindowsashandIfounditembeddedin the trunkof that cedar tree.This little fellowwas fired from theMauser.25. After passing through Mr. Thesiger’s arm, it embedded itself in thisarmchairhere.Asforthepistolitself—”

“Well?”saidSirOswaldeagerly.“Anyfingerprints?”

Battleshookhishead.

“Themanwhohandleditworegloves,”hesaidslowly.

“Apity,”saidSirOswald.

“A man who knew his business would wear gloves. Am I right inthinking,SirOswald,thatyoufoundthispistoljustabouttwentyyardsfromthebottomofthestepsleadinguptotheterrace?”

SirOswaldsteppedtothewindow.

“Yes,almostexactly,Ishouldsay.”

“Idon’twanttofindfault,butitwouldhavebeenwiseronyourpart,sir,toleaveitexactlyasyoufoundit.”

“Iamsorry,”saidSirOswaldstiffly.

“Oh, it doesn’tmatter. I’ve been able to reconstruct things. Therewereyour footprints, you see, leading up from the bottom of the garden, and aplacewhereyouhadobviouslystoppedandstoopeddown,andakindofdentinthegrasswhichwashighlysuggestive.Bytheway,whatwasyourtheoryofthepistolbeingthere?”

“Ipresumedthatithadbeendroppedbythemaninhisflight.”

Battleshookhishead.

“Not dropped. Sir Oswald. There are two points against that. To beginwith, thereareonlyonesetof footprintscrossing the lawn just there—yourown.”

“Isee,”saidSirOswaldthoughtfully.

“Canyoubesureofthat,Battle?”putinGeorge.

“Quitesure,sir.There isoneothersetof trackscrossing the lawn,MissWade’s,buttheyareagooddealfurthertotheleft.”

Hepaused, and thenwenton: “And there’s thedent in theground.Thepistolmusthavestruckthegroundwithsomeforce.Itallpointstoitshavingbeenthrown.”

“Well,whynot?”saidSirOswald.“Saythemanfleddownthepathtotheleft.He’dleavenofootprintsonthepathandhe’dhurlthepistolawayfromhimintothemiddleofthelawn,eh,Lomax?”

Georgeagreedbyanodofthehead.

“It’struethathe’dleavenofootprintsonthepath,”saidBattle,“butfromtheshapeofthedentandthewaytheturfwascut,Idon’tthinkthepistolwasthrownfromthatdirection.Ithinkitwasthrownfromtheterracehere.”

“Verylikely,”saidSirOswald.“Doesitmatter,Superintendent?”

“Ah,yes,Battle,”brokeinGeorge.“Isit—er—strictlyrelevant?”

“Perhapsnot,Mr.Lomax.Butwelike toget things justso,youknow.Iwondernowifoneofyougentlemenwouldtakethispistolandthrowit.Willyou,SirOswald?That’sverykind.Standjustthereinthewindow.Nowflingitintothemiddleofthelawn.”

Sir Oswald complied, sending the pistol flying through the air with apowerful sweep of his arm. Jimmy Thesiger drew near with breathlessinterest.TheSuperintendentlumberedoffafteritlikeawell-trainedretriever.Hereappearedwithabeamingface.

“That’sit,sir.Justthesamekindofmark.Although,bytheway,yousentit a good ten yards farther. But then, you’re a very powerfully built man,aren’tyou,SirOswald?Excuseme,IthoughtIheardsomeoneatthedoor.”

TheSuperintendent’searsmusthavebeenverymuchsharperthananyoneelse’s.Nobodyelsehadheardasound,butBattlewasprovedright,forLadyCootestoodoutside,amedicineglassinherhand.

“Yourmedicine,Oswald,”shesaid,advancingintotheroom.“Youforgotitafterbreakfast.”

“I’mverybusy,Maria,”saidSirOswald.“Idon’twantmymedicine.”

“You would never take it if it wasn’t for me,” said his wife serenely,advancinguponhim.“You’rejustlikeanaughtylittleboy.Drinkitupnow.”

Andmeekly,obediently,thegreatsteelmagnatedrankitup!

LadyCootesmiledsadlyandsweetlyateveryone.

“AmIinterruptingyou?Areyouverybusy?Oh,lookatthoserevolvers.Nasty,noisy,murdering things.To think,Oswald, thatyoumighthavebeenshotbytheburglarlastnight.”

“You must have been alarmed when you found he was missing, LadyCoote,”saidBattle.

“I didn’t think of it at first,” confessed Lady Coote. “This poor boyhere”—she indicated Jimmy—“being shot—and everything so dreadful, butsoexciting.Itwasn’ttillMr.BatemanaskedmewhereSirOswaldwasthatIrememberedhe’dgoneouthalfanhourbeforeforastroll.”

“Sleepless,eh,SirOswald?”askedBattle.

“Iamusuallyanexcellentsleeper,”saidSirOswald.“ButImustconfessthat last night I felt unusually restless. I thought thenight airwoulddomegood.”

“Youcameoutthroughthiswindow,Isuppose?”

Wasithisfancy,ordidSirOswaldhesitateforamomentbeforereplying?

“Yes.”

“Inyourpumpstoo,”saidLadyCoote,“insteadofputtingthickshoeson.Whatwouldyoudowithoutmetolookafteryou?”

Sheshookherheadsadly.

“I think, Maria, if you don’t mind leaving us—we have still a lot todiscuss.”

“Iknow,dear,I’mjustgoing.”

Lady Coote withdrew, carrying the empty medicine glass as though itwereagobletoutofwhichshehadjustadministeredadeathpotion.

“Well, Battle,” said George Lomax, “it all seems clear enough. Yes,perfectlyclear.Themanfiresashot,disablingMr.Thesiger,flingsawaytheweapon,runsalongtheterraceanddownthegravelpath.”

“Whereheoughttohavebeencaughtbymymen,”putinBattle.

“Yourmen,ifImaysayso,Battle,seemtohavebeensingularlyremiss.Theydidn’tseeMissWadecomein.If theycouldmisshercomingin, theycouldeasilymissthethiefgoingout.”

SuperintendentBattle opened hismouth to speak, then seemed to thinkbetterofit.JimmyThesigerlookedathimcuriously.HewouldhavegivenalottoknowjustwhatwasinSuperintendentBattle’smind.

“Must have been a champion runner,” was all the Scotland Yard mancontentedhimselfwithsaying.

“Howdoyoumean,Battle?”

“JustwhatIsay,Mr.Lomax.Iwasroundthecorneroftheterracemyselfnot fifty seconds after the shot was fired. And for a man to run all thatdistance towardsmeandget round thecornerof thepathbefore Iappearedround the sideof thehouse—well, as I say,hemusthavebeenachampionrunner.”

“Iamatalosstounderstandyou,Battle.Youhavesomeideaofyourownwhich I havenot yet—er—grasped.You say themandidnot go across thelawn,andnowyouhint—Whatexactlydoyouhint?Thatthemandidnotgodownthepath?Theninyouropinion—er—wheredidhego?”

Foranswer,SuperintendentBattlejerkedaneloquentthumbupwards.

“Eh?”saidGeorge.

TheSuperintendent jerkedharder thanever.George raisedhisheadandlookedattheceiling.

“Upthere,”saidBattle.“Uptheivyagain.”

“Nonsense,Superintendent.Whatyouaresuggestingisimpossible.”

“Notatallimpossible,sir.He’ddoneitonce.Hecoulddoittwice.”

“Idon’tmeanimpossibleinthatsense.Butifthemanwantedtoescape,he’dneverboltbackintothehouse.”

“Safestplaceforhim,Mr.Lomax.”

“ButMr.O’Rourke’sdoorwasstilllockedontheinsidewhenwecametohim.”

“And how did you get to him? Through Sir Stanley’s room. That’s theway our man went. Lady Eileen tells me she saw the door knob of Mr.O’Rourke’sroommove.Thatwaswhenourfriendwasuptherethefirsttime.I suspect the key was under Mr. O’Rourke’s pillow. But his exit is clearenough the second time—through the communicating door and throughSirStanley’sroom,which,ofcourse,wasempty.Likeeveryoneelse,SirStanleyisrushingdownstairstothelibrary.Ourman’sgotaclearcourse.”

“Andwheredidhegothen?”

SuperintendentBattleshruggedhisburlyshouldersandbecameevasive.

“Plentyofwaysopen.Intoanemptyroomontheothersideofthehouseanddowntheivyagain—outthroughasidedoor—or,justpossibly,ifitwasaninsidejob,he—well,stayedinthehouse.”

Georgelookedathiminshockedsurprise.

“Really, Battle, I should—I should feel it very deeply if one of myservants—er—Ihavethemostperfectrelianceonthem—itwoulddistressmeverymuchtohavetosuspect—”

“Nobody’saskingyoutosuspectanyone,Mr.Lomax.I’mjustputtingallthepossibilitiesbeforeyou.Theservantsmaybeallright—probablyare.”

“Youhavedisturbedme,”saidGeorge.“Youhavedisturbedmegreatly.”

Hiseyesappearedmoreprotuberantthanever.

Todistracthim,Jimmypokeddelicatelyatacuriousblackenedobjectonthetable.

“What’sthis?”heasked.

“That’sexhibitZ,”saidBattle.“Thelastofourlittlelot.Itis,orratherithasbeen,aglove.”

Hepickeditup,thecharredrelic,andmanipulateditwithpride.

“Wheredidyoufindit?”askedSirOswald.

Battlejerkedhisheadoverhisshoulder.

“In thegrate—nearlyburnt, but notquite.Queer looks as though it hadbeenchewedbyadog.”

“ItmightpossiblybeMissWade’s,” suggested Jimmy.“Shehas severaldogs.”

TheSuperintendentshookhishead.

“This isn’t a lady’s glove—no, not even the large kind of loose gloveladieswearnowadays.Putiton,sir,amoment.”

HeadjustedtheblackenedobjectoverJimmy’shand.

“Yousee—it’slargeevenforyou.”

“Doyouattachimportancetothisdiscovery?”inquiredSirOswaldcoldly.

“You never know, Sir Oswald, what’s going to be important or what

isn’t.”

TherewasasharptapatthedoorandBundleentered.

“I’msosorry,”shesaidapologetically.“ButFatherhas justrungup.HesaysImustcomehomebecauseeverybodyisworryinghim.”

Shepaused.

“Yes,mydearEileen?”saidGeorgeencouragingly,perceivingthat therewasmoretocome.

“Iwouldn’t have interrupted you—only that I thought itmight perhapshavesomethingtodowithallthis.Yousee,whathasupsetFatheristhatoneofourfootmenismissing.Hewentoutlastnightandhasn’tcomeback.”

“What is theman’s name?” It was Sir Oswald who took up the cross-examination.

“JohnBauer.”

“AnEnglishman?”

“IbelievehecallshimselfaSwiss—butIthinkhe’saGerman.HespeaksEnglishperfectly,though.”

“Ah!”SirOswalddrewinhisbreathwithalong,satisfiedhiss.“AndhehasbeenatChimneys—howlong?”

“Justunderamonth.”

SirOswaldturnedtotheothertwo.

“Hereisourmissingman.Youknow,Lomax,aswellasIdo,thatseveralforeignGovernmentsareafterthething.Irememberthemannowperfectly—tall,well-drilledfellow.Cameaboutafortnightbeforeweleft.Aclevermove.Anynew servants herewould be closely scrutinized, but atChimneys, fivemilesaway—”Hedidnotfinishthesentence.

“Youthinktheplanwaslaidsolongbeforehand?”

“Whynot?There aremillions in that formula,Lomax.DoubtlessBauerhopedtogetaccesstomyprivatepapersatChimneys,andtolearnsomethingofforthcomingarrangementsfromthem.Itseemslikelythathemayhavehadanaccompliceinthishouse—someonewhoputhimwisetothelieofthelandandwhosawtothedopingofO’Rourke.ButBauerwasthemanMissWade

sawclimbingdowntheivy—thebig,powerfulman.”

HeturnedtoSuperintendentBattle.

“Bauerwas yourman, Superintendent.And, somehow or other, you lethimslipthroughyourfingers.”

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Twenty-four

BUNDLEWONDERS

TherewasnodoubtthatSuperintendentBattlewastakenaback.Hefingeredhischinthoughtfully.

“SirOswaldisright,Battle,”saidGeorge.“Thisistheman.Anyhopeofcatchinghim?”

“There may be, sir. It certainly looks—well, suspicious. Of course themanmayturnupagain—atChimneys,Imean.”

“Doyouthinkitlikely?”

“No, it isn’t,”confessedBattle. “Yes, it certainly looksas thoughBauerwere theman.But Ican’tquiteseehowhegot inandoutof thesegroundsunobserved.”

“Ihavealreadytoldyoumyopinionofthemenyouposted,”saidGeorge.“Hopelessly inefficient—Idon’tmeantoblameyou,Superintendent,but—”Hispausewaseloquent.

“Ah,well,”saidBattlelightly,“myshouldersarebroad.”

Heshookhisheadandsighed.

“Imustgettothetelephoneatonce.Excuseme,gentlemen.I’msorry,Mr.Lomax—IfeelI’veratherbungledthisbusiness,Butit’sbeenpuzzling,morepuzzlingthanyouknow.”

Hestrodehurriedlyfromtheroom.

“Comeintothegarden,”saidBundletoJimmy.“Iwanttotalktoyou.”

Theywent out together through thewindow. Jimmy stared down at thelawn,frowning.

“What’sthematter?”askedBundle.

Jimmyexplainedthecircumstancesofthepistolthrowing.

“I’mwondering,”heended,“whatwasinoldBattle’smindwhenhegotCootetothrowthepistol.Something,I’llswear.Anyhow,itlandedupabouttenyardsfartherthanitshouldhavedone.Youknow,Bundle,Battle’sadeepone.”

“He’sanextraordinaryman,”saidBundle.“Iwant to tellyouabout lastnight.”

She retailed her conversation with the Superintendent. Jimmy listenedattentively.

“SotheCountessisNo1,”hesaidthoughtfully.“Itallhangstogetherverywell. No 2—Bauer—comes over from Chimneys. He climbs up intoO’Rourke’s room, knowing that O’Rourke has had a sleeping draughtadministeredtohim—bytheCountesssomehoworother.Thearrangementisthat he is to throw the papers to theCountess,whowill bewaiting below.Thenshe’llnipbackthroughthelibraryanduptoherroom.IfBauer’scaughtleavingthegrounds,they’llfindnothingonhim.Yes,itwasagoodplan—butitwentwrong.No sooner is theCountess in the library than she hearsmecoming andhas to jumpbehind the screen. Jolly awkward for her, becauseshe can’t warn her accomplice. No 2 pinches the papers, looks out of thewindow,sees,ashethinks,theCountesswaiting,pitchesthepapersdowntoherandproceedstoclimbdowntheivy,wherehefindsanastysurpriseintheshape of me waiting for him. Pretty nervy work for the Countess waitingbehindherscreen.Allthingsconsidered,shetoldaprettygoodstory.Yes,itallhangstogetherverywell.”

“Toowell,”saidBundledecidedly.

“Eh?”saidJimmysurprised.

“What about No 7—No 7, who never appears, but lives in thebackground.TheCountessandBauer?No, it’snot so simpleas that.Bauerwasherelastnight,yes.Buthewasonlyhereincasethingswentwrong—astheyhavedone.Hispart is thepartofscapegoat; todrawallattentionfromNo7—theboss.”

“I say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t been reading toomuchsensationalliterature,haveyou?”

Bundlethrewhimaglanceofdignifiedreproach.

“Well,”saidJimmy,“I’mnotyetliketheRedQueen.Ican’tbelievesiximpossiblethingsbeforebreakfast.”

“It’safterbreakfast,”saidBundle.

“Orevenafterbreakfast.We’vegotaperfectlygoodhypothesiswhichfitsthe facts—andyouwon’t have it at any price, simply because, like the oldriddle,youwanttomakethingsmoredifficult.”

“I’msorry,”saidBundle,“but Iclingpassionately toamysteriousNo7beingamemberofthehouseparty.”

“WhatdoesBillthink?”

“Bill,”saidBundlecoldly,“isimpossible.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him about theCountess?Heoughttobewarned.Heavenknowswhathe’llgoblabbingaboutotherwise.”

“He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle. “He’s—oh, simplyidiotic.Iwishyou’ddriveithometohimaboutthatmole.”

“You forget I wasn’t in the cupboard,” said Jimmy. “And anyway I’drathernotarguewithBillabouthisladyfriend’smole.Butsurelyhecan’tbesuchanassasnottoseethateverythingfitsin?”

“He’s every kind of ass,” said Bundle bitterly. “You made the greatestmistake,Jimmy,inevertellinghimatall.”

“I’msorry,”saidJimmy.“Ididn’tseeitatthetime—butIdonow.Iwasafool,butdashitall,oldBill—”

“Youknowwhatforeignadventuressesare,”saidBundle.“Howtheygetholdofone.”

“Asamatteroffact,Idon’t,”saidJimmy.“Onehasnevertriedtogetholdofme.”Andhesighed.

Foramomentortwotherewassilence.Jimmywasturningthingsoverinhis mind. The more he thought about them the more unsatisfactory theyseemed.

“YousaythatBattlewantstheCountessleftalone,”hesaidatlast.

“Yes.”

“Theideabeingthatthroughherhewillgetatsomeoneelse?”

Bundlenodded.

Jimmyfrowneddeeplyashetriedtoseewherethisled.ClearlyBattlehadsomeverydefiniteideainhismind.

“Sir Stanley Digbywent up to town early thismorning, didn’t he,” hesaid.

“Yes.”

“O’Rourkewithhim?”

“Yes,Ithinkso.”

“Youdon’tthink—no,that’simpossible.”

“What?”

“ThatO’Rourkecanbemixedupinthisinanyway.”

“It’spossible,”saidBundlethoughtfully.“He’sgotwhatonecallsaveryvividpersonality.No,itwouldn’tsurprisemeif—oh,totellthetruth,nothingwouldsurpriseme! In fact, there’sonlyonepersonI’mreallysure isn’tNo7.”

“Who’sthat?”

“SuperintendentBattle.”

“Oh!IthoughtyouweregoingtosayGeorgeLomax.”

“Ssh,herehecomes.”

Georgewas,indeed,bearingdownupontheminanunmistakablemanner.Jimmymadeanexcuseandslippedaway.GeorgesatdownbyBundle.

“MydearEileen,mustyoureallyleaveus?”

“Well,Fatherseemstohavegotthewindupratherbadly.IthinkI’dbettergohomeandholdhishand.”

“This little handwill indeed be comforting,” saidGeorge, taking it andpressingitplayfully.“MydearEileen,IunderstandyourreasonsandIhonouryouforthem.Inthesedaysofchangedandunsettledconditions—”

“He’soff,”thoughtBundledesperately.

“—when family life is at a premium—all the old standards falling!—Itbecomesourclasstosetanexampletoshowthatwe,atleast,areunaffected

bymodernconditions.TheycallustheDieHards—Iamproudoftheterm—IrepeatIamproudoftheterm!Therearethingsthatshoulddiehard—dignity,beauty,modesty, thesanctityof family life, filial respect—whodies if theseshalllive?AsIwassaying,mydearEileen,Ienvyyoutheprivilegesofyouryouth.Youth!Whatawonderfulthing!Whatawonderfulword!Andwedonot appreciate it until we grow to—er—maturer years. I confess, my dearchild,thatIhaveinthepastbeendisappointedbyyourlevity.Iseenowthatitwasbutthecarelessandcharminglevityofachild.Iperceivenowtheseriousandearnestbeautyofyourmind.Youwillallowme,Ihope,tohelpyouwithyourreading?”

“Oh,thankyou,”saidBundlefaintly.

“Andyoumust never be afraidofme again. Iwas shockedwhenLadyCaterhamtoldmethatyoustoodinaweofme.IcanassureyouthatIamaveryhumdrumsortofperson.”

ThespectacleofGeorgebeingmodeststruckBundlespellbound.Georgecontinued:

“Neverbeshywithme,dearchild.Anddonotbeafraidofboringme.Itwillbeagreatdelighttometo—ifImaysayso—formyourbuddingmind.Iwillbeyourpoliticalmentor.Wehaveneverneededyoungwomenoftalentand charm in the Party more than we need them today. You may well bedestinedtofollowinthefootstepsofyouraunt,LadyCaterham.”

ThisawfulprospectknockedBundleoutcompletely.ShecouldonlystarehelplesslyatGeorge.Thisdidnotdiscouragehim—onthecontrary.Hismainobjection to women was that they talked toomuch. It was seldom that hefound what he considered a really good listener. He smiled benignly atBundle.

“Thebutterflyemergingfromthechrysalis.Awonderfulpicture.Ihaveavery interestingworkonpolitical economy. Iwill look it outnow, andyoucantakeittoChimneyswithyou.Whenyouhavefinishedit,Iwilldiscussitwithyou.Donothesitatetowritetomeifanypointpuzzlesyou.IhavemanypublicdutiesbutbyunsparingworkIcanalwaysmaketimefortheaffairsofmyfriends.Iwilllookforthebook.”

Hestrodeaway.Bundlegazedafterhimwithadazedexpression.ShewasrousedbytheunexpectedadventofBill.

“Look here,” said Bill. “What the hell was Codders holding your handfor?”

“Itwasn’tmyhand,”saidBundlewildly.“Itwasmybuddingmind.”

“Don’tbeanass,Bundle.”

“Sorry,Bill,butI’malittleworried.DoyouremembersayingthatJimmyranagraveriskdownhere?”

“Sohedoes,”saidBill.“It’sfrightfullyhardtoescapefromCoddersoncehe’sgotinterestedinyou.Jimmywillbecaughtinthetoilsbeforeheknowswhereheis.”

“It’snotJimmywho’scaught—it’sme,”saidBundlewildly.“IshallhavetomeetendlessMrs.Macattas,andreadpoliticaleconomyanddiscussitwithGeorge,andheavenknowswhereitwillend!”

Billwhistled.

“PooroldBundle.Beenlayingitonabitthick,haven’tyou?”

“Imusthavedone.Bill,Ifeelhorriblyentangled.”

“Never mind,” said Bill consolingly. “George doesn’t really believe inwomenstandingforParliament,soyouwon’thavetostanduponplatformsandtalkalotofjunk,orkissdirtybabiesinBermondsey.Comeandhaveacocktail.It’snearlylunchtime.”

Bundlegotupandwalkedbyhissideobediently.

“AndIdosohatepolitics,”shemurmuredpiteously.

“Ofcourseyoudo.Sodoallsensiblepeople.It’sonlypeoplelikeCoddersandPongowhotakethemseriouslyandrevelinthem.Butallthesame,”saidBill,revertingsuddenlytoaformerpoint,“yououghtn’ttoletCoddersholdyourhand.”

“Whyonearthnot?”saidBundle.“He’sknownmeallmylife.”

“Well,Idon’tlikeit.”

“VirtuousWilliam—Oh,Isay,lookatSuperintendentBattle.”

They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like roomopened out of the little hallway. In itwere kept golf clubs, tennis racquets,bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle was

conductingaminuteexaminationofvariousgolfclubs.HelookedupalittlesheepishlyatBundle’sexclamation.

“Goingtotakeupgolf,SuperintendentBattle?”

“Imightdoworse,LadyEileen.Theysayit’snevertoolatetostart.AndI’vegotonegoodqualitythatwilltellatanygame.”

“What’sthat?”askedBill.

“Idon’tknowwhenI’mbeaten. Ifeverythinggoeswrong, I turn toandstartagain!”

Andwithadeterminedlookonhisface,SuperintendentBattlecameoutandjoinedthem,shuttingthedoorbehindhim.

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Twenty-five

JIMMYLAYSHISPLANS

Jimmy Thesiger was feeling depressed. Avoiding George, whom hesuspected of being ready to tackle himon serious subjects, he stole quietlyaway after lunch. Proficient as hewas in details of the Santa Fé boundarydispute,hehadnowishtostandanexaminationonitthisminute.

Presentlywhathehopedwouldhappencametopass.LoraineWade,alsounaccompanied, strolleddownoneof the shadygardenpaths. In amomentJimmywasbyher side.Theywalked for someminutes in silence and thenJimmysaidtentatively:

“Loraine?”

“Yes?”

“Lookhere,I’mabadchapatputtingthings—butwhataboutit?What’swrongwith getting a special licence and beingmarried and living togetherhappilyeverafterwards?”

Loraine displayed no embarrassment at this surprising proposal. Insteadshethrewbackherheadandlaughedfrankly.

“Don’tlaughatachap,”saidJimmyreproachfully.

“Ican’thelpit.Youweresofunny.”

“Loraine—youarealittledevil.”

“I’mnot.I’mwhat’scalledathoroughlynicegirl.”

“Onlytothosewhodon’tknowyou—whoaretakeninbyyourdelusiveappearanceofmeeknessanddecorum.”

“Ilikeyourlongwords.”

“Alloutofcrosswordpuzzles.”

“Soeducative.”

“Loraine,dear,don’tbeataboutthebush.Willyouorwon’tyou?”

Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic appearance ofdetermination. Her small mouth hardened and her little chin shot outaggressively.

“No,Jimmy.Notwhilethingsareastheyareatpresent—allunfinished.”

“Iknowwehaven’tdonewhatwesetouttodo,”agreedJimmy.“Butallthe same—well, it’s the end of a chapter. The papers are safe at the AirMinistry.Virtuetriumphant.And—forthemoment—nothingdoing.”

“So—let’sgetmarried?”saidLorainewithaslightsmile.

“You’vesaidit.Preciselytheidea.”

ButagainLoraineshookherhead.

“No,Jimmy.Untilthisthing’swoundup—untilwe’resafe—”

“Youthinkwe’reindanger?”

“Don’tyou?”

Jimmy’scherubicpinkfacecloudedover.

“You’reright,”hesaidatlast.“IfthatextraordinaryrigmaroleofBundle’sis true—and I suppose, incredible as it sounds, itmust be true—thenwe’renotsafetillwe’vesettledwithNo7!”

“Andtheothers?”

“No—theothersdon’tcount.It’sNo7withhisownwaysofworkingthatfrightensme.BecauseIdon’tknowwhoheisorwheretolookforhim.”

Loraineshivered.

“I’vebeenfrightened,”shesaidinalowvoice.“EversinceGerry’sdeath....”

“You needn’t be frightened. There’s nothing for you to be frightenedabout.Youleaveeverythingtome.Itellyou,Loraine—I’llgetNo7yet.Oncewegethim—well,Idon’tthinkthere’llbemuchtroublewiththerestofthegang,whoevertheyare.”

“Ifyougethim—andsupposehegetsyou?”

“Impossible,”saidJimmycheerfully.“I’mmuchtooclever.Alwayshave

agoodopinionofyourself—that’smymotto.”

“When I think of the things that might have happened last night—”Loraineshivered.

“Well, they didn’t,” said Jimmy. “We’re both here, safe and sound—thoughImustadmitmyarmisconfoundedlypainful.”

“Poorboy.”

“Oh, one must expect to suffer in a good cause. And what with mywounds and my cheerful conversation, I’ve made a complete conquest ofLadyCoote.”

“Oh!Doyouthinkthatimportant?”

“I’veanideaitmaycomeinuseful.”

“You’vegotsomeplaninyourmind,Jimmy.Whatisit?”

“Theyoungheronevertellshisplans,”saidJimmyfirmly.“Theymatureinthedark.”

“Youareanidiot,Jimmy.”

“I know. I know. That’s what everyone says. But I can assure you,Loraine, there’s a lot of brainwork going on underneath.Nowwhat aboutyourplans?Gotany?”

“BundlehassuggestedthatIshouldgotoChimneyswithherforabit.”

“Excellent,”saidJimmyapprovingly.“Nothingcouldbebetter.I’dlikeaneyekeptonBundleanyway.Youneverknowwhatmadthingshewon’tgetup to next.She’s so frightfully unexpected.And theworst of it is, she’s soastonishingly successful. I tell you, keeping Bundle out of mischief is awhole-timejob.”

“Billoughttolookafterher,”suggestedLoraine.

“Bill’sprettybusyelsewhere.”

“Don’tyoubelieveit,”saidLoraine.

“What? Not the Countess? But the lad’s potty about her.” Lorainecontinuedtoshakeherhead.

“There’s something there I don’t quite understand. But it’s not the

CountesswithBill—it’sBundle.Why, thismorning,Billwas talking tomewhenMr. Lomax came out and sat down byBundle.He took her hand orsomething,andBillwasofflike—likearocket.”

“Whatacurioustastesomepeoplehave,”observedMr.Thesiger.“Fancyanyonewhowastalkingtoyouwantingtodoanythingelse.Butyousurprisemeverymuch,Loraine.IthoughtoursimpleBillwasenmeshedinthetoilsofthebeautifulforeignadventuress.Bundlethinksso,Iknow.”

“Bundlemay,”saidLoraine.“ButItellyou,Jimmy,itisn’tso.”

“Thenwhat’sthebigidea?”

“Don’t you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit of sleuthing on hisown?”

“Bill?Hehasn’tgotthebrains.”

“I’mnotsosure.Whenasimple,muscularpersonlikeBilldoessetouttobesubtle,nooneevergiveshimcreditforit.”

“And in consequence he can put in some good work. Yes, there’ssomething in that. But all the same I’d never have thought it of Bill. He’sdoing theCountess’s littlewoolly lamb toperfection. I thinkyou’rewrong,youknow,Loraine.TheCountessisanextraordinarilybeautifulwoman—notmytypeofcourse,”putinMr.Thesigerhastily—“andoldBillhasalwayshadaheartlikeanhotel.”

Loraineshookherhead,unconvinced.

“Well,”saidJimmy,“haveityourownway.Weseemtohavemoreorlesssettledthings.YougobackwithBundletoChimneys,andforheaven’ssakekeepher frompokingabout in thatSevenDialsplaceagain.Heavenknowswhatwillhappenifshedoes.”

Lorainenodded.

“Andnow,”saidJimmy,“IthinkafewwordswithLadyCootewouldbeadvisable.”

LadyCootewassittingonagardenseatdoingwoolwork.Thesubjectwasadisconsolateandsomewhatmisshapenyoungwomanweepingoveranurn.

LadyCootemaderoomforJimmybyherside,andhepromptly,beingatactfulyoungman,admiredherwork.

“Doyou like it?” saidLadyCoote, pleased. “ItwasbegunbymyAuntSelinatheweekbeforeshedied.Canceroftheliver,poorthing.”

“Howbeastly,”saidJimmy.

“Andhowisthearm?”

“Oh,it’sfeelingquiteallright.Bitofanuisanceandallthat,youknow.”

“You’ll have to be careful,” said LadyCoote in awarning voice. “I’veknown blood poisoning set in—and in that case you might lose your armaltogether.”

“Oh!Isay,Ihopenot.”

“I’monlywarningyou,”saidLadyCoote.

“Where are you hanging out now?” inquiredMr. Thesiger. “Town—orwhere?”

Considering thatheknew theanswer tohisqueryperfectlywell,heputthequestionwithapraiseworthyamountofingenuousness.

LadyCootesighedheavily.

“SirOswaldhastakentheDukeofAlton’splace.Letherbury.Youknowit,perhaps?”

“Oh,rather.Toppingplace,isn’tit?”

“Oh,Idon’tknow,”saidLadyCoote.“It’saverylargeplace,andgloomy,you know. Rows of picture galleries with such forbidding-looking people.What they call OldMasters are very depressing, I think. You should haveseenalittlehousewehadinYorkshire,Mr.Thesiger.WhenSirOswaldwasplainMr.Coote.Suchaniceloungehallandacheerfuldrawingroomwithaningle-nook—awhite striped paperwith a frieze ofwisteria I chose for it, Iremember. Satin stripe, you know, not moiré. Much better taste, I alwaysthink.Thediningroomfacednortheast,sowedidn’tgetmuchsuninit,butwithagoodbrightscarletpaperandasetofthosecomichuntingprints—why,itwasascheerfulasChristmas.”

In the excitement of these reminiscences, Lady Coote dropped severallittleballsofwool,whichJimmydutifullyretrieved.

“Thankyou,mydear,”saidLadyCoote.“Now,whatwasIsaying?Oh—

about houses—yes, I do like a cheerful house. And choosing things for itgivesyouaninterest.”

“I suppose Sir Oswaldwill be buying a place of his own one of thesedays,”suggestedJimmy.“Andthenyoucanhaveitjustasyoulike.”

LadyCooteshookherheadsadly.

“SirOswaldtalksofafirmdoingit—andyouknowwhatthatmeans.”

“Oh!Butthey’dconsultyou!”

“Itwouldbeoneofthosegrandplaces—allfortheantique.They’dlookdownon the things I call comfortable and homey.Not but that SirOswaldwasn’tverycomfortableandsatisfiedinhishomealways,andIdaresayhistastes are just the same underneath. But nothingwill suit him now but thebest!He’sgotonwonderfully,andnaturallyhewantssomethingtoshowforit,butmany’sthetimeIwonderwhereitwillend.”

Jimmylookedsympathetic.

“It’s like a runaway horse,” said Lady Coote. “Got the bit between itsteethandawayitgoes.It’sthesamewithSirOswald.He’sgoton,andhe’sgoton,tillhecan’tstopgettingon.He’soneoftherichestmeninEngland—butdoes thatsatisfyhim?No,hewantsstillmore.Hewants tobe—Idon’tknowwhathewantstobe!Icantellyou,itfrightensmesometimes!”

“LikethePersianJohnny,”saidJimmy,“whowentaboutwailingforfreshworldstoconquer.”

Lady Coote nodded acquiescence without much knowing what Jimmywastalkingabout.

“WhatIwonderis—willhisstomachstandit?”shewentontearfully.“Tohavehimaninvalid—withhisideas—oh,itwon’tbearthinkingof.”

“Helooksveryhearty,”saidJimmyconsolingly.

“He’sgotsomethingonhismind,”saidLadyCoote.“Worriedthat’swhatheis.Iknow.”

“What’sheworriedabout?”

“I don’t know.Perhaps something at theworks. It’s a great comfort forhim having Mr. Bateman. Such an earnest young man—and so

conscientious.”

“Marvellouslyconscientious,”agreedJimmy.

“Oswald thinks a lot of Mr. Bateman’s judgement. He says that Mr.Batemanisalwaysright.”

“That was one of his worst characteristics years ago,” said Jimmyfeelingly.

LadyCootelookedslightlypuzzled.

“Thatwas an awfully jollyweekend I hadwithyou atChimneys,” saidJimmy.“Imeanitwouldhavebeenawfullyjollyifithadn’tbeenforpooroldGerrykickingthebucket.Jollynicegirls.”

“Ifindgirlsveryperplexing,”saidLadyCoote.“Notromantic,youknow.Why, I embroidered some handkerchiefs for SirOswaldwithmy own hairwhenwewereengaged.”

“Didyou?”saidJimmy.“Howmarvellous.ButIsupposegirlshaven’tgotlonghairtodothatnowadays.”

“That’s true,” admitted Lady Coote. “But, oh, it shows in lots of otherways. I remember when I was a girl, one of my—well, my young men—pickedupahandfulofgravel,andagirlwhowaswithmesaidatoncethathewas treasuring it because my feet had trodden on it. Such a pretty idea, Ithought. Though it turned out afterwards that he was taking a course inmineralogy—ordo Imeangeology?—at a technical school.But I liked theidea—and stealing a girl’s handkerchief and treasuring it—all those sort ofthings.”

“Awkward if the girl wanted to blow her nose,” said the practical Mr.Thesiger.

LadyCootelaiddownherwoolworkandlookedsearchinglybutkindlyathim.

“Comenow,” she said. “Isn’t there somenice girl that you fancy?Thatyou’dliketoworkandmakealittlehomefor?”

Jimmyblushedandmumbled.

“IthoughtyougotonverywellwithoneofthosegirlsatChimneysthattime—VeraDaventry.”

“Socks?”

“Theydocallherthat,”admittedLadyCoote.“Ican’tthinkwhy.Itisn’tpretty.”

“Oh,she’satopper,”saidJimmy.“I’dliketomeetheragain.”

“She’scomingdowntostaywithusnextweekend.”

“Isshe?”saidJimmy, trying to infusea largeamountofwistful longingintothetwowords.

“Yes.Would—wouldyouliketocome?”

“Iwould,”saidJimmyheartily.“Thankseversomuch,LadyCoote.”

Andreiteratingferventthanks,helefther.

SirOswaldpresentlyjoinedhiswife.

“Whathasthatyoungjackanapesbeenboringyouabout?”hedemanded.“Ican’tstandthatyoungfellow.”

“He’s a dear boy,” said Lady Coote. “And so brave. Look how he gotwoundedlastnight.”

“Yes,messingaroundwherehe’dnobusinesstobe.”

“Ithinkyou’reveryunfair,Oswald.”

“Neverdoneanhonestday’sworkinhislife.Arealwasterifthereeverwasone.He’dnevergetonifhehadhiswaytomakeintheworld.”

“Youmusthavegotyourfeetdamplastnight,”saidLadyCoote.“Ihopeyouwon’tgetpneumonia.FreddieRichardsdiedofittheotherday.Dearme,Oswald,itmakesmybloodruncoldtothinkofyouwanderingaboutwithadangerousburglar loosein thegrounds.Hemighthaveshotyou.I’veaskedMr.Thesigerdownfornextweekend,bytheway.”

“Nonsense,”saidSirOswald.“Iwon’thavethatyoungmaninmyhouse,doyouhear,Maria?”

“Whynot?”

“That’smybusiness.”

“I’msosorry,dear,”saidLadyCooteplacidly.“I’veaskedhimnow,soitcan’tbehelped.Pickupthatballofpinkwool,willyou,Oswald?”

SirOswaldcomplied,hisfaceblackasthunder.Helookedathiswifeandhesitated.LadyCootewasplacidlythreadingherwoolneedle.

“Iparticularlydon’twantThesigerdownnextweekend,”hesaidat last.“I’ve heard a good deal about him from Bateman. He was at school withhim.”

“WhatdidMr.Batemansay?”

“He’dnogoodtosayofhim.Infact,hewarnedmeveryseriouslyagainsthim.”

“Hedid,didhe?”saidLadyCootethoughtfully.

“And I have the highest respect for Bateman’s judgement. I’ve neverknownhimwrong.”

“Dear me,” said Lady Coote. “What a mess I seem to have made ofthings.Ofcourse,IshouldneverhaveaskedhimifIhadknown.Youshouldhavetoldmeallthisbefore,Oswald.It’stoolatenow.”

Shebegan to roll upherworkvery carefully.SirOswald lookedat her,made as if to speak, then shrugged his shoulders.He followed her into thehouse.LadyCoote,walkingahead,woreaveryfaintsmileonherface.Shewas fond of her husband, but she was also fond—in a quiet, unobtrusive,whollywomanlymanner—ofgettingherownway.

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Twenty-six

MAINLYABOUTGOLF

“Thatfriendofyoursisanicegirl,Bundle,”saidLordCaterham.

LorainehadbeenatChimneysfornearlyaweek,andhadearnedthehighopinion of her host—mainly because of the charming readiness she hadshowntobeinstructedinthescienceofthemashieshot.

Boredbyhiswinterabroad,LordCaterhamhadtakenupgolf.Hewasanexecrable player and in consequence was profoundly enthusiastic over thegame.Hespentmostofhismorningsliftingmashieshotsovervariousshrubsand bushes—or, rather, essaying to loft them, hacking large bits out of thevelvetyturfandgenerallyreducingMacDonaldtodespair.

“Wemustlayoutalittlecourse,”saidLordCaterham,addressingadaisy.“Asportinglittlecourse.Nowthen,justwatchthisone,Bundle.Offtherightknee,slowback,keeptheheadstillandusethewrists.”

The ball, heavily topped, scudded across the lawn and disappeared intotheunfathomeddepthsofagreatbankofrhododendrons.

“Curious,”saidLordCaterham.“WhatdidIdothen,Iwonder?AsIwassaying, Bundle, that friend of yours is a very nice girl. I really think I aminducinghertotakequiteaninterestinthegame.Shehitsomeexcellentshotsthismorning—reallyquiteasgoodasIcoulddomyself.”

Lord Caterham took another careless swing and removed an immensechunkofturf.MacDonald,whowaspassingretrieveditandstampeditfirmlyback. The look he gave Lord Caterhamwould have caused anyone but anardentgolfertosinkthroughtheearth.

“If MacDonald has been guilty of cruelty to Cootes, which I stronglysuspect,”saidBundle,“he’sbeingpunishednow.”

“Whyshouldn’tIdoasI likeinmyowngarden?”demandedherfather.“MacDonaldought tobe interested in thewaymygame iscomingon—the

Scotchareagreatgolfingnation.”

“Youpooroldman,”saidBundle.“You’llneverbeagolfer—butatanyrateitkeepsyououtofmischief.”

“Not at all,” saidLordCaterham. “I did the long sixth in five theotherday.TheprowasverysurprisedwhenItoldhimaboutit.”

“Hewouldbe,”saidBundle.

“TalkingofCootes,SirOswaldplaysafairgame—averyfairgame.Notaprettystyle—toostiff.Butstraightdownthemiddleeverytime.Butcurioushowtheclovenhoofshows—won’tgiveyouasixinchputt!Makesyouputitineverytime.NowIdon’tlikethat.”

“Isupposehe’samanwholikestobesure,”saidBundle.

“It’s contrary to the spirit of the game,” said her father. “And he’s notinterestedinthetheoryofthethingeither.Now,thatsecretarychap,Bateman,is quite different. It’s the theory interests him. Iwas slicing badlywithmyspoon;andhesaiditallcamefromtoomuchrightarm;andheevolvedaveryinterestingtheory.It’sallleftarmingolf—theleftarmisthearmthatcounts.Hesaysheplaystennisleft-handedbutgolfwithordinaryclubsbecausetherehissuperioritywiththeleftarmtells.”

“Anddidheplayverymarvellously?”inquiredBundle.

“No,hedidn’t,”confessedLordCaterham.“But thenhemayhavebeenoffhisgame.IseethetheoryallrightandIthinkthere’salotinit.Ah!Didyouseethatone,Bundle?Rightovertherhododendrons.Aperfectshot.Ah!Ifonecouldbesureofdoingthateverytime—Yes,Tredwell,whatisit?”

TredwelladdressedBundle.

“Mr.Thesigerwouldliketospeaktoyouonthetelephone,mylady.”

Bundlesetoffatfullspeedfor thehouse,yelling“Loraine,Loraine,”asshedidso.Lorainejoinedherjustasshewasliftingthereceiver.

“Hallo,isthatyou,Jimmy?”

“Hallo.Howareyou?”

“Veryfit,butabitbored.”

“How’sLoraine?”

“She’sallright.She’shere.Doyouwanttospeaktoher?”

“Inaminute.I’vegotalottosay.Tobeginwith,I’mgoingdowntotheCootesfortheweekend,”hesaidsignificantly.“Now,lookhere,Bundle,youdon’tknowhowonegetsholdofskeletonkeys,doyou?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. Is it reallynecessary to take skeletonkeys to theCootes?”

“Well,Ihadasortofideathey’dcomeinhandy.Youdon’tknowthesortofshoponegetsthemat?”

“Whatyouwantisakindlyburglarfriendtoshowyoutheropes.”

“I do, Bundle, I do. And unfortunately I haven’t got one. I thoughtperhapsyourbrightbrainmightgrapplesuccessfullywiththeproblem.ButIsupposeIshallhavetofallbackuponStevensasusual.He’llbegettingsomefunny ideas in his head soon about me—first a bluenosed automatic—andnowskeletonkeys.He’llthinkI’vejoinedthecriminalclasses.”

“Jimmy?”saidBundle.

“Yes?”

“Look here—be careful, won’t you? I mean if Sir Oswald finds younosing around with skeleton keys—well, I should think he could be veryunpleasantwhenhelikes.”

“Youngmanofpleasingappearanceinthedock!Allright,I’llbecareful.Pongo’sthefellowI’mreallyfrightenedof.Hesneaksaroundsoonthoseflatfeetofhis.Youneverhearhimcoming.Andhealwaysdidhaveageniusforpokinghisnoseinwherehewasn’twanted.Buttrusttotheboyhero.”

“Well,IwishLoraineandIweregoingtobetheretolookafteryou.”

“Thankyou,nurse.Asamatteroffact,though,Ihaveascheme.”

“Yes?”

“Doyou thinkyouandLorainemighthaveaconvenientcarbreakdownnearLetherburytomorrowmorning?It’snotsoveryfarfromyou,isit?”

“Fortymiles.That’snothing.”

“I thought itwouldn’tbe—toyou!Don’tkillLorainethough.I’mratherfondofLoraine.Allright,then—somewhereroundaboutquartertohalfpast

twelve.”

“Sothattheyinviteustolunch?”

“That’s the idea. I say,Bundle, I ran into that girlSocksyesterday, andwhat do you think—Terence O’Rourke is going to be down there thisweekend!”

“Jimmy,doyouthinkhe—?”

“Well—suspect everyone, you know. That’swhat they say.He’s awildlad,anddaringastheymakethem.Iwouldn’tputitpasthimtorunasecretsociety.HeandtheCountessmightbeinthistogether.HewasoutinHungarylastyear.”

“Buthecouldpinchtheformulaanytime.”

“That’s just what he couldn’t. He’d have to do it under circumstanceswherehecouldn’tbesuspected.But the retreatup the ivyand intohisownbed—well,thatwouldberatherneat.Nowforinstructions.Afterafewpolitenothings to Lady Coote, you and Loraine are to get hold of Pongo andO’Rourkebyhookorbycrookandkeepthemoccupiedtilllunchtime.See?Itoughtn’ttobedifficultforacoupleofbeautifulgirlslikeyou.”

“You’reusingthebestbutter,Isee.”

“Aplainstatementoffact.”

“Well,atanyrate,yourinstructionsaredulynoted.DoyouwanttotalktoLorainenow?”

Bundlepassedoverthereceiverandtactfullylefttheroom.

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Twenty-seven

NOCTURNALADVENTURE

JimmyThesigerarrivedatLetherburyonasunnyautumnafternoonandwasgreeted affectionately by LadyCoote andwith cold dislike by SirOswald.Awareof thekeenmatchmakingeyeofLadyCooteuponhim, Jimmy tookpainstomakehimselfextremelyagreeabletoSocksDaventry.

O’Rourkewasthereinexcellentspirits.Hewasinclinedtobeofficialandsecretive about the mysterious events at the Abbey, about which Sockscatechizedhimfreely,buthisofficialreticencetookanovelform...namelythatofembroideringthetaleofeventsinsuchafantasticmannerthatnobodycouldpossiblyguesswhatthetruthmighthavebeen.

“Fourmaskedmenwith revolvers? Is that really so?” demanded Socksseverely.

“Ah!I’mrememberingnowthattherewastheroundhalf-dozenofthemtoholdmedownandforce thestuffdownmythroat.Sure,andI thought itwaspoison,andIdoneforentirely.”

“Andwhatwasstolen,orwhatdidtheytryandsteal?”

“What else but the crown jewels of Russia that were brought to Mr.LomaxsecretlytodepositintheBankofEngland.”

“Whatabloodyliaryouare,”saidSockswithoutemotion.

“Aliar,I?Andthejewelsbroughtoverbyaeroplanewithmybestfriendas pilot. This is secret history I’m telling you, Socks.Will you ask JimmyThesiger there if you don’t believeme.Not that I’d be putting any trust inwhathe’dsay.”

“Isittrue,”saidSocks,“thatGeorgeLomaxcamedownwithouthisfalseteeth?That’swhatIwanttoknow.”

“Thereweretworevolvers,”saidLadyCoote.“Nastythings.Isawthemmyself.It’sawonderthispoorboywasn’tkilled.”

“Oh,Iwasborntobehanged,”saidJimmy.

“I hear that there was a Russian countess there of subtle beauty,” saidSocks.“AndthatshevampedBill.”

“Someof the thingsshesaidaboutBudaPesthwere toodreadful,” saidLady Coote. “I shall never forget them. Oswald, we must send asubscription.”

SirOswaldgrunted.

“I’llmakeanoteofit,LadyCoote,”saidRupertBateman.

“Thankyou,Mr.Bateman. I feel oneought todo something as a thankoffering. I can’t imaginehowSirOswaldescapedbeing shot—lettingalonedieofpneumonia.”

“Don’tbefoolish,Maria,”saidSirOswald.

“I’vealwayshadahorrorofcatburglars,”saidLadyCoote.

“Think of having the luck to meet one face to face. How thrilling!”murmuredSocks.

“Don’tyoubelieveit,”saidJimmy.“It’sdamnedpainful.”Andhepattedhisrightarmgingerly.

“Howisthepoorarm?”inquiredLadyCoote.

“Oh,prettywellallrightnow.Butit’sbeenthemostconfoundednuisancehavingtodoeverythingwiththelefthand.I’mnogoodwhateverwithit.”

“Everychildshouldbebroughtuptobeambidexterous,”saidSirOswald.

“Oh!”saidSocks,somewhatoutofherdepth.“Isthatlikeseals?”

“Notamphibious,”saidMr.Bateman.“Ambidexterousmeansusingeitherhandequallywell.”

“Oh!”saidSocks,lookingatSirOswaldwithrespect.“Canyou?”

“Certainly;Icanwritewitheitherhand.”

“Butnotwithbothatonce?”

“Thatwouldnotbepractical,”saidSirOswaldshortly.

“No,”saidSocksthoughtfully.“Isupposethatwouldbeabittoosubtle.”

“ItwouldbeagrandthingnowinaGovernmentdepartment,”observedMr.O’Rourke,“ifonecouldkeeptherighthandfromknowingwhatthelefthandwasdoing.”

“Canyouusebothhands?”

“No,indeed.I’mthemostright-handedpersonthateverwas.”

“Butyoudealcardswithyourlefthand,”saidtheobservantBateman.“Inoticedtheothernight.”

“Oh,butthat’sdifferententirely,”saidMr.O’Rourkeeasily.

Agongwithasombrenotepealedoutandeveryonewentupstairstodressfordinner.

AfterdinnerSirOswaldandLadyCoote,Mr.BatemanandMr.O’Rourkeplayed bridge and Jimmy passed a flirtatious eveningwith Socks. The lastwordsJimmyheardasheretreatedupthestaircasethatnightwereSirOswaldsayingtohiswife:

“You’llnevermakeabridgeplayer,Maria.”

Andherreply:

“Iknow,dear.Soyoualwayssay.YouoweMr.O’Rourkeanotherpound,Oswald.That’sright.”

ItwassometwohourslaterthatJimmycreptnoiselessly(orsohehoped)downthestairs.HemadeonebriefvisittothediningroomandthenfoundhiswaytoSirOswald’sstudy.There,afterlisteningintentlyforaminuteortwo,hesettowork.Mostofthedrawersofthedeskwerelocked,butacuriouslyshapedbitofwireinJimmy’shandsoonsawtothat.Onebyonethedrawersyieldedtohismanipulations.

Drawerbydrawerhesortedthroughmethodically,beingcarefultoreplaceeverythinginthesameorder.Onceortwicehestoppedtolisten,fancyingheheardsomedistantsound.Butheremainedundisturbed.

The last drawerwas looked through. Jimmy now knew—or could haveknown had he been paying attention—many interesting details relating tosteel; but he had found nothing of what he wanted—a reference to HerrEberhard’sinventionoranythingthatcouldgivehimacluetotheidentityofthemysteriousNo7.Hehad,perhaps,hardlyhopedthathewould.Itwasan

offchanceandhehadtakenit—buthehadnotexpectedmuchresult—exceptbysheerluck.

Hetestedthedrawerstomakesurethathehadrelockedthemsecurely.HeknewRupertBateman’spowersofminuteobservationandglancedroundtheroomtomakesurethathehadleftnoincriminatingtraceofhispresence.

“That’sthat,”hemutteredtohimselfsoftly.“Nothingthere.Well,perhapsI’llhavebetterlucktomorrowmorning—ifthegirlsonlyplayup.”

Hecameoutofthestudy,closingthedoorbehindhimandlockingit.Foramoment he thought he heard a soundquite near him, but decided he hadbeenmistaken.Hefelthiswaynoiselesslyalong thegreathall. Justenoughlight came from the high-vaulted windows to enable him to pick his waywithoutstumblingintoanything.

Again he heard a soft sound—he heard it quite certainly this time andwithout the possibility ofmaking amistake. Hewas not alone in the hall.Somebody else was there, moving as stealthily as he was. His heart beatsuddenlyveryfast.

Withasuddenspringhejumpedtotheelectricswitchandturnedonthelights. The sudden glaremade him blink—but he saw plainly enough.NotfourfeetawaystoodRupertBateman.

“Mygoodness,Pongo,”criedJimmy,“youdidgivemeastart.Slinkingaboutlikethatinthedark.”

“I heard a noise,” explainedMr. Bateman severely. “I thought burglarshadgotinandIcamedowntosee.”

JimmylookedthoughtfullyatMr.Bateman’srubbersoledfeet.

“You think of everything, Pongo,” he said genially. “Even a lethalweapon.”

Hiseyerestedonthebulgeintheother’spocket.

“It’saswelltobearmed.Oneneverknowswhomonemaymeet.”

“Iamgladyoudidn’tshoot,”saidJimmy.“I’mabit tiredofbeingshotat.”

“Imighteasilyhavedoneso,”saidMr.Bateman.

“Itwouldbedeadagainstthelawifyoudid,”saidJimmy.“You’vegottomakequitesurethebeggar’shousebreaking,youknow,beforeyoupotathim.Youmustn’tjumptoconclusions.Otherwiseyou’dhavetoexplainwhyyoushotaguestonaperfectlyinnocenterrandlikemine.”

“Bythewaywhatdidyoucomedownfor?”

“Iwashungry,”saidJimmy.“Iratherfanciedadrybiscuit.”

“Therearesomebiscuitsinatinbyyourbed,”saidRupertBateman.

He was staring at Jimmy very intently through his horn-rimmedspectacles.

“Ah!That’swherethestaffworkhasgonewrong,oldboy.There’satintherewith“BiscuitsforStarvingVisitors”onit.Butwhenthestarvingvisitoropenedit—nothinginside.SoIjusttoddleddowntothediningroom.”

Andwith a sweet, ingenuous smile, Jimmy produced from his dressinggownpocketahandfulofbiscuits.

Therewasamoment’spause.

“And now I think I’ll toddle back to bed,” said Jimmy. “Night-night,Pongo.”

With an affectation of nonchalance, he mounted the staircase. RupertBatemanfollowedhim.At thedoorwayofhis room,Jimmypausedas if tosaygoodnightoncemore.

“It’sanextraordinarythingaboutthesebiscuits,”saidMr.Bateman.“DoyoumindifIjust—?”

“Certainly,laddie,lookforyourself.”

Mr.Batemanstrodeacrosstheroom,openedthebiscuitboxandstaredatitsemptiness.

“Veryremiss,”hemurmured.“Well,goodnight.”

Hewithdrew.Jimmysatontheedgeofhisbedlisteningforaminute.

“Thatwasanarrowshave,”hemurmuredtohimself.“Suspicioussortofchap,Pongo.Neverseemstosleep.Nastyhabitofhis,prowlingaroundwitharevolver.”

Hegotupandopenedoneofthedrawersofthedressingtable.Beneathan

assortmentoftieslayapileofbiscuits.

“There’s nothing for it,” said Jimmy. “I shall have to eat the damnedthings.Tentoone,Pongowillcomeprowlingroundinthemorning.”

With a sigh, he settled down to ameal of biscuits forwhich he had noinclinationwhatever.

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Twenty-eight

SUSPICIONS

Itwasjustontheappointedhouroftwelveo’clockthatBundleandLoraineenteredtheparkgates,havinglefttheHispanoatanadjacentgarage.

LadyCootegreetedthetwogirlswithsurprise,butdistinctpleasure,andimmediatelypressedthemtostaytolunch.

O’Rourke,whohadbeenreclininginanimmensearmchair,beganatoncetotalkwithgreatanimationtoLoraine,whowaslisteningwithhalfaneartoBundle’s highly technical explanation of themechanical troublewhich hadaffectedtheHispano.

“Andwesaid,”endedBundle,“howmarvellousthatthebruteshouldhavebroken down just here! Last time it happenedwas on a Sunday at a placecalledLittleSpeddlingtonundertheHill.Anditliveduptoitsname,Icantellyou.”

“Thatwouldbeagrandnameonthefilms,”remarkedO’Rourke.

“Birthplaceofthesimplecountrymaiden,”suggestedSocks.

“Iwondernow,”saidLadyCoote,“whereMr.Thesigeris?”

“He’sinthebilliardroom,Ithink,”saidSocks.“I’llfetchhim.”

She went off, but had hardly gone a minute when Rupert Batemanappeareduponthescene,withtheharassedandseriousairusualtohim.

“Yes,LadyCoote?Thesigersaidyouwereaskingforme.Howdoyoudo,LadyEileen—”

He broke off to greet the two girls, and Loraine immediately took thefield.

“Oh,Mr.Bateman!I’vebeenwantingtoseeyou.Wasn’tityouwhowastellingmewhattodoforadogwhenheiscontinuallygettingsorepaws?”

Thesecretaryshookhishead.

“Itmusthavebeensomeoneelse,MissWade.Though,asamatteroffact,Idohappentoknow—”

“Whatawonderfulmanyouare,”interruptedLoraine.“Youknowabouteverything.”

“One should keep abreast of modern knowledge,” said Mr. Batemanseriously.“Nowaboutyourdog’spaws—”

TerenceO’RourkemurmuredsottovocetoBundle:

“ ’Tis a man like that writes all those little paragraphs in the weeklypapers.‘Itisnotgenerallyknownthattokeepabrassfenderuniformlybright,etc;’‘Thedorperbeetleisoneofthemostinterestingcharactersintheinsectworld;’‘ThemarriagecustomsoftheFingaleseIndian;’andsoon.”

“Generalinformation,infact.”

“Andwhatmorehorribletwowordscouldyouhave?”saidMr.O’Rourke,andaddedpiously:“ThanktheheavensaboveI’maneducatedmanandknownothingwhateveruponanysubjectatall.”

“Iseeyou’vegotclockgolfhere,”saidBundletoLadyCoote.

“I’lltakeyouonit,LadyEileen,”saidO’Rourke.

“Let’schallenge those two,”saidBundle.“Loraine,Mr.O’RourkeandIwanttotakeyouandMr.Batemanonatclockgolf.”

“Do play, Mr. Bateman,” said Lady Coote, as the secretary showed amomentaryhesitation.“I’msureSirOswalddoesn’twantyou.”

Thefourwentoutonthelawn.

“Very cleverly managed, what?” whispered Bundle to Loraine.“Congratulationsonourgirlishtact.”

The roundended justbeforeoneo’clock,victorygoing toBatemanandLoraine.

“ButIthinkyou’llagreewithme,partner,”saidMr.O’Rourke,“thatweplayedamoresportinggame.”

HelaggedalittlebehindwithBundle.

“Old Pongo’s a cautious player—and takes no risks.Now,withme it’sneck or nothing. And a fine motto through life, don’t you agree, Lady

Eileen?”

“Hasn’titeverlandedyouintrouble?”askedBundlelaughing.

“Tobesureithas.Millionsoftimes.ButI’mstillgoingstrong.Sure,it’lltakethehangman’snoosetodefeatTerenceO’Rourke.”

JustthenJimmyThesigerstrolledroundthecornerofthehouse.

“Bundle,byallthat’swonderful!”heexclaimed.

“You’vemissedcompetingintheAutumnMeeting,”saidO’Rourke.

“I’dgoneforastroll,”saidJimmy.“Wheredidthesegirlsdropfrom?”

“Wecameonourflatfeet,”saidBundle.“TheHispanoletusdown.”

Andshenarratedthecircumstancesofthebreakdown.

Jimmylistenedwithsympatheticattention.

“Hardluck,”hevouchsafed.“Ifit’sgoingtotakesometime,I’llrunyoubackinmycarafterlunch.”

A gong sounded at thatmoment and they allwent in.Bundle observedJimmycovertly.Shethoughtshehadnoticedanunusualnoteofexultanceinhisvoice.Shehadthefeelingthatthingshadgonewell.

After lunch they took a polite leave of Lady Coote, and Jimmyvolunteered to run themdownto thegarage inhiscar.Assoonas theyhadstartedthesamewordsburstsimultaneouslyfrombothgirls’lips:

“Well?”

Jimmychosetobeprovoking.

“Well?”

“Oh,prettyhearty,thanks.Slightindigestionowingtooverindulgenceindrybiscuits.”

“Butwhathashappened?”

“Itellyou.Devotiontothecausemademeeattoomanydrybiscuits.Butdidourheroflinch?No,hedidnot.”

“Oh,Jimmy,”saidLorainereproachfully,andhesoftened.

“Whatdoyoureallywanttoknow?”

“Oh, everything.Didn’twedo itwell? Imean, thewaywekeptPongoandTerenceO’Rourkeinplay.”

“IcongratulateyouonthehandlingofPongo.O’Rourkewasprobablyasitter—butPongoismadeofotherstuff.There’sonlyonewordforthatlad—it was in the Sunday Newsbag crossword last week. Word of ten lettersmeaningeverywhereatonce.Ubiquitous.ThatdescribedPongodowntotheground.Youcan’tgoanywherewithoutrunningintohim—andtheworstofitisyouneverhearhimcoming.”

“Youthinkhe’sdangerous?”

“Dangerous? Of course he’s not dangerous. Fancy Pongo beingdangerous.He’s an ass. But, as I said just now, he’s an ubiquitous ass.Hedoesn’t even seem to need sleep like ordinary mortals. In fact, to put itbluntly,thefellow’sadamnednuisance.”

And,inasomewhataggrievedmanner,Jimmydescribedtheeventsofthepreviousevening.

Bundlewasnotverysympathetic.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing anyway, mooching aroundhere.”

“No7,”saidJimmycrisply.“That’swhatI’mafter.No7.”

“Andyouthinkyou’llfindhiminthishouse?”

“IthoughtImightfindaclue.”

“Andyoudidn’t?”

“Notlastnight—no.”

“Butthismorning,”saidLoraine,breakinginsuddenly.“Jimmy,youdidfindsomethingthismorning.Icanseeitbyyourface.”

“Well,Idon’tknowifitisanything.Butduringthecourseofmystroll—”

“Whichstrolldidn’ttakeyoufarfromthehouse,Iimagine.”

“Strangelyenough, itdidn’t.Round tripof the interior,wemightcall it.Well,asIsay,Idon’tknowwhetherthere’sanythinginitornot.ButIfoundthis.”

With the celerity of a conjurer he produced a small bottle and tossed it

overtothegirls.Itwashalffullofawhitepowder.

“Whatdoyouthinkitis?”askedBundle.

“Awhitecrystallinepowder, that’swhat it is,”saidJimmy.“And toanyreaderof detective fiction thosewords areboth familiar and suggestive.Ofcourse, if it turns out to be a new kind of patent tooth powder, I shall bechagrinedandannoyed.”

“Wheredidyoufindit?”askedBundlesharply.

“Ah!”saidJimmy,“that’smysecret.”

Andfromthatpointhewouldnotbudgeinspiteofcajoleryandinsult.

“Here we are at the garage,” he said. “Let’s hope the high-mettledHispanohasnotbeensubjectedtoanyindignities.”

Thegentlemanatthegaragepresentedabillforfiveshillingsandmadeafewvagueremarksaboutloosenuts.Bundlepaidhimwithasweetsmile.

“It’s nice to know we all get money for nothing sometimes,” shemurmuredtoJimmy.

The threestood together in the road,silent for themomentas theyeachponderedthesituation.

“Iknow,”saidBundlesuddenly.

“Knowwhat?”

“SomethingImeanttoaskyou—andnearlyforgot.DoyourememberthatgloveSuperintendentBattlefound—thehalf-burntone?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’tyousaythathetrieditonyourhand?”

“Yes—itwasashadebig.Thatfitsinwiththeideaofitsbeingabig,heftymanwhoworeit.”

“That’s not at all what I’m bothering about. Nevermind the size of it.GeorgeandSirOswaldwereboththeretoo,weren’tthey?”

“Yes.”

“Hecouldhavegivenittoeitherofthemtofiton?”

“Yes,ofcourse—”

“Buthedidn’t.Hechoseyou.Jimmy,don’tyouseewhatthatmeans?”

Mr.Thesigerstaredather.

“I’msorry,Bundle.Possiblythejollyoldbrainisn’tfunctioningaswellasusual,butIhaven’tthefaintestideawhatyou’retalkingabout.”

“Don’tyousee,Loraine?”

Lorainelookedathercuriously,butshookherhead.

“Doesitmeananythinginparticular?”

“Ofcourseitdoes.Don’tyousee—Jimmyhadhisrighthandinasling.”

“ByJove,Bundle,”saidJimmyslowly.“ItwasratheroddnowIcometothinkofit;it’sbeingaleft-handglove,Imean.Battleneversaidanything.”

“Hewasn’tgoingtodrawattentiontoit.Bytryingitonyouitmightpasswithout notice being drawn to it, and he talked about the size just to puteverybodyoff.Butsurelyitmustmeanthatthemanwhoshotatyouheldthepistolinhislefthand.”

“Sowe’vegottolookforaleft-handedman,”saidLorainethoughtfully.

“Yes, and I’ll tell you another thing. That was what Battle was doinglookingthroughthegolfclubs.Hewaslookingforaleft-handedman’s.”

“ByJove,”saidJimmysuddenly.

“Whatisit?”

“Well,Idon’tsupposethere’sanythinginit,butit’srathercurious.”

Heretailedtheconversationatteathedaybefore.

“SoSirOswaldCooteisambidexterous?”saidBundle.

“Yes.And I remember now on that night at Chimneys—you know, thenight GerryWade died—I was watching the bridge and thinking idly howawkwardlysomeonewasdealing—andthenrealizingthatitwasbecausetheyweredealingwiththelefthand.Ofcourse,itmusthavebeenSirOswald.”

Theyallthreelookedateachother.Loraineshookherhead.

“Aman like SirOswaldCoote! It’s impossible.What could he have togainbyit?”

“Itseemsabsurd,”saidJimmy.“Andyet—”

“No7hashisownwaysofworking,”quotedBundlesoftly.“SupposingthisisthewaySirOswaldhasreallymadehisfortune?”

“ButwhystageallthatcomedyattheAbbeywhenhe’dhadtheformulaathisownworks?”

“Theremightbewaysofexplainingthat,”saidLoraine.“ThesamelineofargumentyouusedaboutMr.O’Rourke.Suspicionhad tobediverted fromhimandplacedinanotherquarter.”

Bundlenoddedeagerly.

“Itallfitsin.SuspicionistofallonBauerandtheCountess.WhoonearthwouldeverdreamofsuspectingSirOswaldCoote?”

“IwonderifBattledoes,”saidJimmyslowly.

SomechordofmemoryvibratedinBundle’smind.SuperintendentBattlepluckinganivyleafoffthemillionaire’scoat.

HadBattlesuspectedallthetime?

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Twenty-nine

SINGULARBEHAVIOUROFGEORGELOMAX

“Mr.Lomaxishere,mylord.”

LordCaterham startedviolently, for, absorbed in the intricacies ofwhatnottodowiththeleftwrist,hehadnotheardthebutlerapproachoverthesoftturf.HelookedatTredwellmoreinsorrowthaninanger.

“I told you at breakfast,Tredwell, that I should be particularly engagedthismorning.”

“Yes,mylord,but—”

“GoandtellMr.Lomaxthatyouhavemadeamistake,thatIamoutinthevillage,thatIamlaidupwiththegout,or,ifallelsefails,thatIamdead.”

“Mr. Lomax, my lord, has already caught sight of your lordship whendrivingupthedrive.”

LordCaterhamsigheddeeply.

“Hewould.Verywell,Tredwell,Iamcoming.”

Inamannerhighlycharacteristic,LordCaterhamwasalwaysmostgenialwhenhisfeelingswereinrealitythereverse.HegreetedGeorgenowwithaheartinessquiteunparalleled.

“My dear fellow, my dear fellow. Delighted to see you. Absolutelydelighted.Sitdown.Haveadrink.Well,well,thisissplendid!”

Andhaving pushedGeorge into a large armchair, he sat downoppositehimandblinkednervously.

“Iwantedtoseeyouveryparticularly,”saidGeorge.

“Oh!” said Lord Caterham faintly, and his heart sank, whilst his mindracedactivelyoverallthedreadpossibilitiesthatmightliebehindthatsimplephrase.

“Veryparticularly,”saidGeorgewithheavyemphasis.

LordCaterham’sheartsank lower thanever.Hefelt thatsomethingwascomingworsethananythinghehadyetthoughtof.

“Yes?”hesaid,withacourageousattemptatnonchalance.

“IsEileenathome?”

LordCaterhamfeltreprieved,butslightlysurprised.

“Yes,yes,”hesaid.“Bundle’shere.Gotthatfriendofherswithher—thelittleWadegirl.Verynicegirl—verynicegirl.Goingtobequiteagoodgolferoneday.Niceeasyswing—”

He was chatting garrulously on when George interrupted withruthlessness:

“IamgladthatEileenisathome.PerhapsImighthaveaninterviewwithherpresently?”

“Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly.” Lord Caterham still felt verysurprised,butwasstillenjoyingthesensationofreprieve.“Ifitdoesn’tboreyou.”

“Nothingcouldboremeless,”saidGeorge.“I think,Caterham,ifImaysayso,thatyouhardlyappreciatethefactthatEileenisgrownup.Sheisnolonger a child.She is awoman, and, if Imay say so, a very charming andtalented woman. The man who succeeds in winning her love will beextremelylucky.Irepeatit—extremelylucky.”

“Oh,Idaresay,”saidLordCaterham.“Butshe’sveryrestless,youknow.Never content to be in one place for more than two minutes together.However,Idaresayyoungfellowsdon’tmindthatnowadays.”

“You mean that she is not content to stagnate. Eileen has brains,Caterham;sheisambitious.Sheinterestsherselfinthequestionsoftheday,andbringsherfreshandvividyoungintellecttobearuponthem.”

LordCaterhamstaredathim. Itoccurred tohim thatwhatwas sooftenreferred to as “the strain of modern life” had begun to tell upon George.Certainly his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham ludicrouslyunlike.

“Areyousureyouarefeelingquitewell?”heaskedanxiously.

Georgewavedtheinquiryasideimpatiently.

“Perhaps, Caterham, you begin to have some inkling ofmy purpose invisitingyouthismorning.Iamnotamantoundertakefreshresponsibilitieslightly.Ihaveapropersense,Ihope,ofwhatisduetothepositionIhold.Ihave given this matter my deep and earnest consideration. Marriage,especiallyatmyage,isnottobeundertakenwithoutfull—er—consideration.Equality of birth, similarity of tastes, general suitability, and the samereligiouscreed—allthesethingsarenecessaryandtheprosandconshavetobeweighedandconsidered.Ican,Ithink,offermywifeapositioninsocietythatisnottobedespised.Eileenwillgracethatpositionadmirably.Bybirthandbreedingshe is fittedfor it,andherbrainsandheracutepoliticalsensecannotbutfurthermycareertoourmutualadvantage.Iamaware,Caterham,thatthereis—er—somedisparityinyears.ButIcanassureyouthatIfeelfullof vigour—inmy prime. The balance of years should be on the husband’sside.And Eileen has serious tastes—an oldermanwill suit her better thansomeyoungjackanapeswithouteitherexperienceorsavoirfaire.Icanassureyou,mydearCaterham, that Iwill cherishher—er—exquisiteyouth; Iwillcherish it—er—itwill be appreciated.Towatch the exquisite flower of hermindunfolding—whataprivilege!AndtothinkthatIneverrealized—”

He shook his head deprecatingly and Lord Caterham, finding his voicewithdifficulty,saidblankly:

“Do I understand you tomean—ah,my dear fellow, you can’t want tomarryBundle?”

“You are surprised. I suppose to you it seems sudden. I have yourpermission,then,tospeaktoher?”

“Oh,yes,” saidLordCaterham.“If it’spermissionyouwant—ofcourseyoucan.Butyouknow,Lomax,Ireallyshouldn’tifIwereyou.Justgohomeand think it over like a good fellow. Count twenty. All that sort of thing.Alwaysapitytoproposeandmakeafoolofyourself.”

“Idaresayyoumeanyouradvicekindly,Caterham,thoughImustconfessthatyouput itsomewhatstrangely.ButIhavemadeupmymindtoputmyfortunetothetest.ImayseeEileen?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Caterham hastily; “Eileensettlesherownaffairs.Ifshecametometomorrowandsaidshewasgoingto

marry the chauffeur, I shouldn’t make any objections. It’s the only waynowadays.Yourchildrencanmakelifedamnedunpleasantifyoudon’tgivein to them in everyway. I say toBundle, ‘Doasyou like, but don’tworryme,’andreally,onthewhole,sheisamazinglygoodaboutit.”

Georgestoodupintentuponhispurpose.

“WhereshallIfindher?”

“Well,really,Idon’tknow,”saidLordCaterhamvaguely.“Shemightbeanywhere. As I told you just now, she’s never in the same place for twominutestogether.Norepose.”

“AndIsupposeMissWadewillbewithher?Itseemstome,Caterham,thatthebestplanwouldbeforyoutoringthebellandaskyourbutlertofindher,sayingthatIwishtospeaktoherforafewminutes.”

LordCaterhampressedthebellobediently.

“Oh, Tredwell,” he said, when the bell was answered. “Just find herladyship, will you. Tell her Mr. Lomax is anxious to speak to her in thedrawingroom.”

“Yes,mylord.”

Tredwell withdrew. George seized Lord Caterham’s hand and wrung itwarmly,muchtothelatter’sdiscomfort.

“Athousandthanks,”hesaid.“Ihopesoontobringyougoodnews.”

Hehastenedfromtheroom.

“Well,”saidLordCaterham.“Well!”

Andafteralongpause:

“WhathasBundlebeenupto?”

Thedooropenedagain.

“Mr.Eversleigh,mylord.”

AsBillhastenedin,LordCaterhamcaughthishandandspokeearnestly.

“Hullo, Bill. You’re looking for Lomax, I suppose? Look here, if youwant todoagoodturn,hurry to thedrawingroomandtellhimtheCabinethavecalledanimmediatemeeting,orgethimawaysomehow.It’sreallynot

fair to let the poor devil make an ass of himself all for some silly girl’sprank.”

“I’ve not come for Codders,” saidBill. “Didn’t know hewas here. It’sBundleIwanttosee.Issheanywhereabout?”

“You can’t see her,” said Lord Caterham. “Not just now, at any rate.Georgeiswithher.”

“Well—whatdoesitmatter?”

“I think it does rather,” saidLordCaterham. “He’s probably splutteringhorribly at this minute, and we mustn’t do anything to make it worse forhim.”

“Butwhatishesaying?”

“Heaven knows,” said Lord Caterham. “A lot of damned nonsense,anyway.Neversaytoomuch,thatwasalwaysmymotto.Grabthegirl’shandandleteventstaketheircourse.”

Billstaredathim.

“Butlookhere,sir,I’minahurry.ImusttalktoBundle—”

“Well,Idon’tsupposeyou’llhavetowaitlong.ImustconfessI’mrathergladtohaveyouherewithme—IsupposeLomaxwillinsistoncomingbackandtalkingtomewhenit’sallover.”

“Whenwhat’sallover?WhatisLomaxsupposedtobedoing?”

“Hush,”saidLordCaterham.“He’sproposing.”

“Proposing?Proposingwhat?”

“Marriage.ToBundle.Don’t askmewhy. I supposehe’s come towhattheycallthedangerousage.Ican’texplainitanyotherway.”

“ProposingtoBundle?Thedirtyswine.Athisage.”

Bill’sfacegrewcrimson.

“Hesayshe’sintheprimeoflife,”saidLordCaterhamcautiously.

“He?Why,he’sdecrepit—senile!I—”Billpositivelychoked.

“Notatall,”saidLordCaterhamcoldly.“He’sfiveyearsyounger thanIam.”

“Ofallthedamnedcheek!CoddersandBundle!AgirllikeBundle!Yououghtn’ttohaveallowedit.”

“Ineverinterfere,”saidLordCaterham.

“Yououghttohavetoldhimwhatyouthoughtofhim.”

“Unfortunately modern civilization rules that out,” said Lord Caterhamregretfully. “In the Stone Age now—but, dear me, I suppose even then Ishouldn’tbeabletodoit—beingasmallman.”

“Bundle! Bundle! Why, I’ve never dared to ask Bundle to marry mebecause I knew she’d only laugh. And George—a disgusting windbag, anunscrupulous hypocritical old hot air merchant—a foul, poisonous self-advertiser—”

“Goon,”saidLordCaterham.“Iamenjoyingthis.”

“MyGod!”saidBillsimplyandwithfeeling.“Lookhere,Imustbeoff.”

“No,no,don’tgo.I’dmuchratheryoustayed.Besides,youwant toseeBundle.”

“Not now. This has driven everything else out of my head. You don’tknowwhereJimmyThesigerisbyanychance?IbelievehewasstayingwiththeCootes.Ishetherestill?”

“I thinkhewentback to townyesterday.BundleandLorainewereoverthereonSaturday.Ifyou’llonlywait—”

But Bill shook his head energetically and rushed from the room. LordCaterhamtiptoedoutintothehall,seizedahatandmadeahurriedexitbythesidedoor.InthedistanceheobservedBillstreakingdownthedriveinhiscar.

“Thatyoungmanwillhaveanaccident,”hethought.

Bill,however,reachedLondonwithoutanymischance,andproceededtopark his car in St. James’s Square. Then he sought out Jimmy Thesiger’srooms.Jimmywasathome.

“Hullo,Bill. I say,what’s thematter?You don’t look your usual brightlittleself.”

“I’mworried,”saidBill.“Iwasworriedanyway,andthensomethingelseturnedupandgavemeajolt.”

“Oh!”saidJimmy.“Howlucid!What’sitallabout?CanIdoanything?”

Billdidnotreply.HesatstaringatthecarpetandlookingsopuzzledanduncomfortablethatJimmyfelthiscuriosityaroused.

“Hasanythingveryextraordinaryoccurred,William?”heaskedgently.

“Somethingdamnedodd.Ican’tmakeheadortailofit.”

“TheSevenDialsbusiness?”

“Yes—theSevenDialsbusiness.Igotaletterthismorning.”

“Aletter?Whatsortofletter?”

“AletterfromRonnyDevereux’sexecutors.”

“Goodlord!Afterallthistime!”

“Itseemshe left instructions. Ifhewas todiesuddenly,acertainsealedenvelopewastobesenttomeexactlyafortnightafterhisdeath.”

“Andthey’vesentittoyou?”

“Yes.”

“You’veopenedit?”

“Yes.”

“Well—whatdiditsay?”

Bill turned a glance upon him, such a strange and uncertain one thatJimmywasstartled.

“Lookhere,”hesaid.“Pullyourself together,oldman. It seems tohaveknockedthewindoutofyou,whateveritis.Haveadrink.”

Hepouredout a stiffwhisky and soda andbrought it over toBill,whotookitobediently.Hisfacestillborethesamedazedexpression.

“It’swhat’sintheletter,”hesaid.“Isimplycan’tbelieveit,that’sall.”

“Oh,nonsense,”saidJimmy.“Youmustgetintothehabitofbelievingsiximpossible thingsbeforebreakfast. Idoit regularly.Nowthen, let’shearallaboutit.Waitaminute.”

Hewentoutside.

“Stevens!”

“Yes,sir?”

“Justgooutandgetmesomecigarettes,willyou?I’verunout.”

“Verygood,sir.”

Jimmywaitedtillheheardthefrontdoorclose.Thenhecamebackintothesittingroom.Billwasjustintheactofsettingdownhisemptyglass.Helookedbetter,morepurposefulandmoremasterofhimself.

“Now then,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sent Stevens out so that we can’t beoverheard.Areyougoingtotellmeallaboutit?”

“It’ssoincredible.”

“Thenit’ssuretobetrue.Comeon,outwithit.”

Billdrewadeepbreath.

“Iwill.I’lltellyoueverything.”

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Thirty

ANURGENTSUMMONS

Loraine,playingwithasmallanddelectablepuppy,wassomewhatsurprisedwhenBundlerejoinedherafteranabsenceoftwentyminutes,inabreathlessstateandwithanindescribableexpressiononherface.

“Whoof,”saidBundle,sinkingontoagardenseat.“Whoof.”

“What’sthematter?”askedLoraine,lookingathercuriously.

“Georgeisthematter—GeorgeLomax.”

“What’shebeendoing?”

“Proposing to me. It was awful. He spluttered and he stuttered, but hewouldgothroughwithit—hemusthavelearntitoutofabook,Ithink.Therewasnostoppinghim.Oh,howIhatemenwhosplutter!And,unfortunately,Ididn’tknowthereply.”

“Youmusthaveknownwhatyouwantedtodo.”

“NaturallyI’mnotgoingtomarryanapologeticidiotlikeGeorge.WhatImean is, Ididn’tknow thecorrect reply from thebookofetiquette. I couldonlyjustsayflatly:‘No,Iwon’t.’WhatIoughttohavesaidwassomethingaboutbeingverysensibleofthehonourhehaddonemeandsoonandsoon.ButIgotsorattledthatintheendIjumpedoutofthewindowandbolted.”

“Really,Bundle,that’snotlikeyou.”

“Well,Ineverdreamtofsuchathinghappening.George—whoIalwaysthoughthatedme—andhedidtoo.Whatafatalthingitistopretendtotakean interest inaman’spet subject.Youshouldhaveheard thedrivelGeorgetalked about my girlish mind and the pleasure it would be to form it.Mymind! IfGeorgeknewonequarterofwhatwasgoingon inmymind,he’dfaintwithhorror!”

Lorainelaughed.Shecouldn’thelpit.

“Oh, I know it’s my own fault. I let myself in for this. There’s Fatherdodgingroundthatrhododendron.Hallo,Father.”

LordCaterhamapproachedwithahangdogexpression.

“Lomaxgone,eh?”heremarkedwithsomewhatforcedgeniality.

“Anicebusinessyouletmeinfor,”saidBundle.“Georgetoldmehehadyourfullapprovalandsanction.”

“Well,”saidLordCaterham,“whatdidyouexpectmetosay?Asamatteroffact,Ididn’tsaythatatall,oranythinglikeit.”

“Ididn’treallythinkso,”saidBundle.“IassumedthatGeorgehadtalkedyou into a corner and reduced you to such a state that you could only nodyourheadfeebly.”

“That’sverymuchwhathappened.Howdidhetakeit?Badly?”

“Ididn’twaittosee,”saidBundle.“I’mafraidIwasratherabrupt.”

“Ohwell,” saidLordCaterham. “Perhaps thatwas the bestway.ThankgoodnessinthefutureLomaxwon’talwaysberunningoverashehasbeeninthehabitofdoing,worryingmeaboutthings.Everythingisforthebesttheysay.Haveyouseenmyjiggeranywhere?”

“Amashie shot or twowould steadymy nerves, I think,” said Bundle.“I’lltakeyouonforsixpence,Loraine.”

An hour passed very peacefully. The three returned to the house in aharmoniousspirit.Anotelayonthehalltable.

“Mr. Lomax left that for you, my lord,” explained Tredwell. “He wasmuchdisappointedtofindthatyouhadgoneout.”

LordCaterham tore it open.He uttered a pained ejaculation and turneduponhisdaughter.Tredwellhadretired.

“Really,Bundle,youmighthavemadeyourselfclear,Ithink.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Well,readthis.”

Bundletookitandread:

“My dear Caterham,—I am sorry not to have had a word with you. I

thoughtImadeitclearthatIwantedtoseeyouagainaftermyinterviewwithEileen.She,dearchild,wasevidentlyquiteunawareofthefeelingsIentertained towardsher. Shewas, I amafraid,much startled. I havenowish tohurryher inanyway.Hergirlishconfusionwasverycharming,and I entertainanevenhigher regard forher,as Imuchappreciatehermaidenlyreserve.Imustgivehertimetobecomeaccustomedtotheidea.Her very confusion shows that she isnotwholly indifferent tomeand Ihavenodoubtsofmyultimatesuccess.

Believeme,dearCaterham,

Yoursincerefriend,

GeorgeLomax.”

“Well,”saidBundle.“Well,I’mdamned!”

Wordsfailedher.

“Themanmustbemad,”saidLordCaterham.“Noonecouldwritethosethingsaboutyou,Bundle,unlesstheywereslightlytouchedinthehead.Poorchap,poorchap.Butwhatpersistence!Idon’twonderhegotintotheCabinet.Itwouldservehimrightifyoudidmarryhim,Bundle.”

The telephone rang andBundlemoved forward to answer it. In anotherminute George and his proposal were forgotten, and she was beckoningeagerlytoLoraine.LordCaterhamwentofftohisownsanctum.

“It’s Jimmy,” said Bundle. “And he’s tremendously excited aboutsomething.”

“ThankgoodnessI’vecaughtyou,”saidJimmy’svoice.“There’snotimetobelost.Loraine’sthere,too?”

“Yes,she’shere.”

“Well,lookhere,Ihaven’tgottimetoexplaineverything—infact,Ican’tthrough the telephone. But Bill has been round to see me with the mostamazing storyyou ever heard. If it’s true—well, if it’s true, it’s thebiggestscoopofthecentury.Now,lookhere,thisiswhatyou’vegottodo.Comeuptotownatonce,bothofyou.GaragethecarsomewhereandgostraighttotheSevenDialsClub.Doyou think thatwhenyouget thereyoucanget ridofthatfootmanfellow?”

“Alfred?Rather.Youleavethattome.”

“Good. Get rid of him and watch out for me and Bill. Don’t showyourselvesatthewindows,butwhenwedriveup,letusinatonce.See?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all right then.Oh,Bundle, don’t let on that you’re going up totown.Makesomeotherexcuse.Sayyour takingLorainehome.Howwouldthatdo?”

“Splendidly.Isay,Jimmy,I’mthrilledtothecore.”

“Andyoumightaswellmakeyourwillbeforestarting.”

“Betterandbetter.ButIwishIknewwhatitwasallabout.”

“Youwillassoonaswemeet.I’lltellyouthismuch.We’regoingtogetreadythehellofasurpriseforNo7!”

Bundle hung up the receiver and turned to Loraine, giving her a rapidrésuméoftheconversation.Lorainerushedupstairsandhurriedlypackedhersuitcase,andBundleputherheadroundherfather’sdoor.

“I’mtakingLorainehome,Father.”

“Why?Ihadnoideashewasgoingtoday.”

“Theywantherback,”saidBundlevaguely.“Justtelephoned.Bye-bye.”

“Here,Bundle,waitaminute.Whenwillyoubehome?”

“Don’tknow.Expectmewhenyouseeme.”

WiththisunceremoniousexitBundlerushedupstairs,putahaton,slippedintoherfurcoatandwasreadytostart.ShehadalreadyorderedtheHispanotobebroughtround.

The journey to London was without adventure, except such as washabitually provided by Bundle’s driving. They left the car at a garage andproceededdirecttotheSevenDialsClub.

ThedoorwasopenedtothembyAlfred.BundlepushedherwaypasthimwithoutceremonyandLorainefollowed.

“Shutthedoor,Alfred,”saidBundle.“Now,I’vecomehereespeciallytodoyouagoodturn.Thepoliceareafteryou.”

“Oh,mylady!”

Alfredturnedchalkwhite.

“I’vecometowarnyoubecauseyoudidmeagoodturntheothernight,”wentonBundlerapidly.“There’sawarrantoutforMr.Mosgorovsky,andthebestthingyoucandoistoclearoutofhereasquickasyoucan.Ifyou’renotfoundhere, theywon’tbotheraboutyou.Here’s tenpounds tohelpyougetawaysomewhere.”

Inthreeminutes’timeanincoherentandbadlyscaredAlfredhadleft14HunstantonStreetwithonlyoneideainhishead—nevertoreturn.

“Well,I’vemanagedthatallright,”saidBundlewithsatisfaction.

“Wasitnecessarytobeso—well,drastic?”Lorainedemurred.

“It’ssafer,”saidBundle.“Idon’tknowwhatJimmyandBillareupto,butwe don’t want Alfred coming back in the middle of it and wreckingeverything. Hallo, here they are. Well, they haven’t wasted much time.Probablywatchingroundthecorner toseeAlfredleave.Godownandopenthedoortothem,Loraine.”

Loraineobeyed.JimmyThesigeralightedfromthedrivingseat.

“Youstophereforamoment,Bill,”hesaid.“Blowthehornifyouthinkanyone’swatchingtheplace.”

Heranupthestepsandbangedthedoorbehindhim.Helookedpinkandelated.

“Hallo, Bundle, there you are. Now then, we’ve got to get down to it.Where’sthekeyoftheroomyougotintolasttime?”

“Itwasoneofthedownstairskeys.We’dbetterbringthelotup.”

“Rightyouare,butbequick.Time’sshort.”

Thekeywaseasilyfound,thebaize-lineddoorswungbackandthethreeentered.TheroomwasexactlyasBundlehadseenitbefore,with thesevenchairs grouped round the table. Jimmy surveyed it for a minute or two insilence.Thenhiseyeswenttothetwocupboards.

“Whichisthecupboardyouhidin,Bundle?”

“Thisone.”

Jimmy went to it and flung the door open. The same collection ofmiscellaneousglasswarecoveredtheshelves.

“Weshallhavetoshiftall thisstuff,”hemurmured.“RundownandgetBill,Loraine.There’snoneedforhimtokeepwatchoutsideanylonger.”

Loraineranoff.

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”inquiredBundleimpatiently.

Jimmywas down on his knees, trying to peer through the crack of theothercupboarddoor.

“WaittillBillcomesandyoushallhearthewholestory.Thisishisstaffwork—anda jollycreditablebitofwork it is.Hallo—what’sLoraineflyingupthestairsforasthoughshe’sgotamadbullafterher?”

Lorainewasindeedracingupthestairsasfastasshecould.Sheburstinuponthemwithanashenfaceandterrorinhereyes.

“Bill—Bill—Oh,Bundle—Bill!”

“WhataboutBill?”

Jimmycaughtherbytheshoulder.

“ForGod’ssake,Loraine,what’shappened?”

Lorainewasstillgasping.

“Bill—I think he’s dead—he’s in the car still—but he doesn’tmove orspeak.I’msurehe’sdead.”

Jimmymutteredanoathandsprangforthestairs,Bundlebehindhim,herheart pounding unevenly and an awful feeling of desolation spreading overher.

Bill—dead?Oh,no!Oh,no!Notthat.PleaseGod—notthat.

TogethersheandJimmyreachedthecar,Lorainebehindthem.

Jimmypeeredunderthehood.Billwassittingashehadlefthim,leaningback. But his eyes were closed and Jimmy’s pull at his arm brought noresponse.

“I can’t understand it,”muttered Jimmy. “But he’s not dead. Cheer up,Bundle. Look here, we’ve got to get him into the house. Let’s pray to

goodnessnopolicemancomesalong.Ifanybodysaysanything,he’soursickfriendwe’rehelpingintothehouse.”

Between the three of them they got Bill into the house without muchdifficulty, and without attracting much attention, save for an unshavengentleman,whosaidsympathetically:

“Genneman’s’adacouple,Ishee,”andnoddedhisheadsapiently.

“Intothelittlebackroomdownstairs,”saidJimmy.“There’sasofathere.”

TheygothimsafelyontothesofaandBundlekneltdownbesidehimandtookhislimpwristinherhand.

“Hispulseisbeating,”shesaid.“Whatisthematterwithhim?”

“Hewas all right when I left him just now,” said Jimmy. “I wonder ifsomeone’smanagedtoinjectsomestuffintohim.Itwouldbeeasilydone—justaprick.Themanmighthavebeenaskinghimthetime.There’sonlyonething for it. Imust get him a doctor at once.You stay here and look afterhim.”

Hehurriedtothedoor,thenpaused.

“Lookhere—don’tbescared,eitherofyou.ButI’dbetter leaveyoumyrevolver.Imean—justincase.I’llbebackjustassoonasIpossiblycan.”

Helaidtherevolverdownonthelittletablebythesofa,thenhurriedoff.Theyheardthefrontdoorbangbehindhim.

Thehouseseemedverystillnow.ThetwogirlsstayedmotionlessbyBill.Bundlestillkeptherfingeronhispulse.Itseemedtobebeatingveryfastandirregularly.

“I wish we could do something,” she whispered to Loraine. “This isawful.”

Lorainenodded.

“Iknow.ItseemsagessinceJimmywentandyetit’sonlyaminuteandahalf.”

“I keep hearing things,” said Bundle. “Footsteps and boards creakingupstairs—andyetIknowit’sonlyimagination.”

“Iwonderwhy Jimmy left us the revolver,” said Loraine. “There can’t

reallybedanger.”

“IftheycouldgetBill—”saidBundleandstopped.

Loraineshivered.

“Iknow—butwe’reinthehouse.Nobodycangetinwithoutourhearingthem.Andanywaywe’vegottherevolver.”

BundleturnedherattentionbackagaintoBill.

“IwishIknewwhattodo.Hotcoffee.Yougivethemthatsometimes.”

“I’ve got some smelling salts in my bag,” said Loraine. “And somebrandy.Whereisit?Oh,Imusthaveleftitintheroomupstairs.”

“I’llgetit,”saidBundle.“Theymightdosomegood.”

Shespedquicklyup thestairs, across thegaming roomand through theopendoorintothemeetingplace.Loraine’sbagwaslyingonthetable.

AsBundlestretchedoutherhandtotakeit,sheheardanoisefrombehindher.Hiddenbehind thedooramanstoodreadywithasandbag inhishand.BeforeBundlecouldturnherhead,hehadstruck.

Witha faintmoan,Bundleslippeddown,anunconsciousheapupon thefloor.

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Thirty-one

THESEVENDIALS

Very slowlyBundle returned to consciousness. Shewas aware of a dark,spinning blackness, the centre of which was a violent, throbbing ache.Punctuating this were sounds. A voice that she knew very well saying thesamethingoverandoveragain.

Theblacknessspanlessviolently.Theachewasnowdefinitelylocatedasbeing in Bundle’s own head. And she was sufficiently herself to take aninterestinwhatthevoicewassaying.

“Darling, darlingBundle.Oh, darlingBundle. She’s dead; I know she’sdead. Oh, my darling. Bundle, darling, darling Bundle. I do love you so.Bundle—darling—darling—”

Bundlelayquitestillwithhereyesshut.Butshewasnowfullyconscious.Bill’sarmsheldherclosely.

“Bundle darling—Oh, dearest, darling Bundle. Oh, my dear love. Oh,Bundle—Bundle.What shall I do?Oh, darling one—myBundle—my owndearest,sweetestBundle.Oh,God,whatshallIdo?I’vekilledher.I’vekilledher.”

Reluctantly—veryreluctantly—Bundlespoke.

“No,youhaven’t,yousillyidiot,”shesaid.

Billgaveagaspofutteramazement.

“Bundle—you’realive.”

“OfcourseI’malive.”

“Howlonghaveyoubeen—Imeanwhendidyoucometo?”

“Aboutfiveminutesago.”

“Whydidn’tyouopenyoureyes—orsaysomething?”

“Didn’twantto.Iwasenjoyingmyself.”

“Enjoyingyourself?”

“Yes.Listeningtoall thethingsyouweresaying.You’llneversaythemsowellagain.You’llbetoobeastlyself-conscious.”

Billhadturnedadarkbrick-red.

“Bundle—youreallydidn’tmind?Youknow,Idoloveyouso.Ihaveforages.ButIneverhavedaredtotellyouso.”

“Yousillyjuggins,”saidBundle.“Why?”

“Ithoughtyou’donlylaughatme.Imean—you’vegotbrainsandallthat—you’llmarrysomebigwig.”

“LikeGeorgeLomax?”suggestedBundle.

“I don’t mean a fatuous ass like Codders. But some really fine chapwho’llbeworthyofyou—thoughIdon’tthinkanyonecouldbethat,”endedBill.

“You’reratheradear,Bill.”

“But, Bundle, seriously, could you ever? I mean, could you ever bringyourselfto?”

“CouldIeverbringmyselftodowhat?”

“Marryme.IknowI’mawfullythickheaded—butIdoloveyou,Bundle.I’dbeyourdogoryourslaveoryouranything.”

“You’revery likeadog,” saidBundle. “I likedogs.They’re so friendlyandfaithfulandwarmhearted.IthinkthatperhapsIcouldjustbringmyselftomarryyou,Bill—withagreateffort,youknow.”

Bill’s response to this was to relinquish his grasp of her and recoilviolently.Helookedatherwithamazementinhiseyes.

“Bundle—youdon’tmeanit?”

“There’s nothing for it,” saidBundle. “I see I shall have to relapse intounconsciousnessagain.”

“Bundle—darling—”Billcaughthertohim.Hewastremblingviolently.“Bundle—doyoureallymeanit—doyou?—youdon’tknowhowmuchIlove

you.”

“Oh,Bill,”saidBundle.

There is no need to describe in detail the conversation of the next tenminutes.Itconsistedmostlyofrepetitions.

“Anddoyou really loveme?”saidBill, incredulously, for the twentiethtimeasheatlastreleasedher.

“Yes—yes—yes.Nowdo let’sbe sensible. I’vegot a rackinghead still,and I’ve been nearly squeezed to death by you. I want to get the hang ofthings.Whereareweandwhat’shappened?”

Forthefirst time,Bundlebeganto takestockofhersurroundings.Theywere in the secret room, she noted, and the baize door was closed andpresumablylocked.Theywereprisoners,then!

Bundle’seyescamebacktoBill.Quiteobliviousofherquestionhewaswatchingherwithadoringeyes.

“Bill,darling,”saidBundle,“pullyourselftogether.We’vegottogetoutofhere.”

“Eh?”saidBill.“What?Oh,yes.That’llbeallright.Nodifficultyaboutthat.”

“It’sbeinginlovemakesyoufeellikethat,”saidBundle.“Ifeelratherthesamemyself.Asthougheverything’seasyandpossible.”

“Soitis,”saidBill.“NowthatIknowyoucareforme—”

“Stop it,” said Bundle. “Oncewe begin again any serious conversationwill be hopeless. Unless you pull yourself together and become sensible, Ishallverylikelychangemymind.”

“Ishan’tletyou,”saidBill.“Youdon’tthinkthatoncehavinggotyouI’dbesuchafoolastoletyougo,doyou?”

“You would not coerce me against my will, I hope,” said Bundlegrandiloquently.

“Wouldn’tI?”saidBill.“Youjustwatchmedoit,that’sall.”

“Youreallyareratheradarling,Bill.Iwasafraidyoumightbetoomeek,butIseethere’sgoingtobenodangerofthat.Inanotherhalfhouryou’dbe

orderingmeabout.Oh,dear,we’regettingsillyagain.Now,lookhere,Bill.We’vegottogetoutofhere.”

“Itellyouthat’llbequiteallright.Ishall—”

Hebrokeoff,obedienttoapressurefromBundle’shand.Shewasleaningforward, listening intently. Yes, she had not been mistaken. A step wascrossingtheouterroom.Thekeywasthrustintothelockandturned.Bundleheld her breath.Was it Jimmy coming to rescue them—orwas it someoneelse?

The door opened and the black-beardedMr.Mosgorovsky stood on thethreshold.

ImmediatelyBilltookastepforward,standinginfrontofBundle.

“Lookhere,”hesaid,“Iwantawordwithyouprivately.”

TheRussiandidnotreplyforaminuteortwo.Hestoodstrokinghislong,silkyblackbeardandsmilingquietlytohimself.

“So,”hesaidatlast,“itislikethat.Verywell.Theladywillbepleasedtocomewithme.”

“It’sallright,Bundle,”saidBill.“Leaveittome.Yougowiththischap.Nobody’sgoingtohurtyou.IknowwhatI’mdoing.”

Bundleroseobediently.ThatnoteofauthorityinBill’svoicewasnewtoher.Heseemedabsolutelysureofhimselfandconfidentofbeingabletodealwith the situation.Bundlewondered vaguelywhat itwas thatBill had—orthoughthehad—uphissleeve.

She passed out of the room in front of the Russian. He followed her,closingthedoorbehindhimandlockingit.

“Thisway,please,”hesaid.

Heindicatedthestaircaseandshemountedobedientlytothefloorabove.Hereshewasdirectedtopassintoasmallfrowsyroom,whichshetooktobeAlfred’sbedroom.

Mosgorovskysaid:“Youwillwaitherequietly,please.Theremustbenonoise.”

Thenhewentout,closingthedoorbehindhimandlockingherin.

Bundlesatdownonachair.Herheadwasachingbadlystillandshefeltincapableofsustainedthought.Billseemedtohavethesitautionwellinhand.Soonerorlater,shesupposed,someonewouldcomeandletherout.

Theminutespassed.Bundle’swatchhadstopped,butshejudgedthatoveran hour had passed since the Russian had brought her here. What washappening?What,indeed,hadhappened?

Atlastsheheardfootstepsonthestairs.ItwasMosgorovskyoncemore.Hespokeveryformallytoher.

“Lady Eileen Brent, you are wanted at an emergency meeting of theSevenDialsSociety.Pleasefollowme.”

HeledthewaydownthestairsandBundlefollowedhim.Heopenedthedoor of the secret chamber and Bundle passed in, catching her breath insurpriseasshedidso.

Shewasseeingfor thesecond timewhatshehadonlyhadaglimpseofthefirsttimethroughherpeephole.Themaskedfiguresweresittingroundthetable.Asshestoodthere,takenabackbythesuddennessofit,Mosgorovskyslippedintohisplace,adjustinghisclockmaskashedidso.

Butthistimethechairattheheadofthetablewasoccupied.No7wasinhisplace.

Bundle’s heart beat violently. Shewas standing at the foot of the tabledirectlyfacinghimandshestaredandstaredatthemockingpieceofhangingstuff,withtheclockdialonit,thathidhisfeatures.

He sat quite immovable and Bundle got an odd sensation of powerradiating from him.His inactivitywas not the inactivity ofweakness—andshewishedviolently,almosthysterically,thathewouldspeak—thathewouldmakesomesign,somegesture—notjustsittherelikeagiganticspiderinthemiddleofitswebwaitingremorselesslyforitsprey.

She shivered and as she did soMosgorovsky rose. His voice, smooth,silky,persuasive,seemedcuriouslyfaraway.

“LadyEileen,youhavebeenpresentunaskedatthesecretcouncilsofthissociety. It is therefore necessary that you should identify yourselfwith ouraimsandambitions.Theplace2o’clock,youmaynotice,isvacant.Itisthatplacethatisofferedtoyou.”

Bundlegasped.Thethingwaslikeafantasticnightmare.Wasitpossiblethatshe,BundleBrent,wasbeingasked to joinamurderoussecretsociety?HadthesamepropositionbeenmadetoBill,andhadherefusedindignantly?

“Ican’tdothat,”shesaidbluntly.

“Donotanswerprecipitately.”

She fancied that Mosgorovsky, beneath his clock mask, was smilingsignificantlyintohisbeard.

“Youdonotasyetknow,LadyEileen,whatitisyouarerefusing.”

“Icanmakeaprettygoodguess,”saidBundle.

“Canyou?”

Itwasthevoiceof7o’clock.ItawokesomevaguechordofmemoryinBundle’sbrain.Surelysheknewthatvoice?

VeryslowlyNo7raisedahandtohisheadandfumbledwiththefasteningofthemask.

Bundleheldherbreath.Atlast—shewasgoingtoknow.

Themaskfell.

Bundle found herself looking into the expressionless, wooden face ofSuperintendentBattle.

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Thirty-two

BUNDLEISDUMBFOUNDED

“That’s right,” said Battle, asMosgorovsky leapt up and came round toBundle.“Getachairforher.It’sbeenabitofashock,Icansee.”

Bundle sank down on the chair. She felt limp and faint with surprise.Battlewent on talking in a quiet, comfortablewaywholly characteristic ofhim.

“Youdidn’texpecttoseeme,LadyEileen.No,andnomoredidsomeoftheotherssittingroundthetable.Mr.Mosgorovsky’sbeenmylieutenantinamannerofspeaking.He’sbeenintheknowallalong.Butmostoftheothershavetakentheirordersblindlyfromhim.”

StillBundle saidnoword.Shewas—amostunusual stateof affairs forher—simplyincapableofspeech.

Battlenoddedathercomprehendingly,seemingtounderstandthestateofherfeelings.

“You’ll have to get rid of one or two preconceived ideas of yours, I’mafraid, Lady Eileen. About this society, for instance—I know it’s commonenough in books—a secret organization of criminals with a mysterioussupercriminalattheheadofitwhomnooneeversees.Thatsortofthingmayexist inreal life,butIcanonlysaythatI’venevercomeacrossanythingofthesort,andI’vehadagooddealofexperienceonewayoranother.

“Butthere’salotofromanceintheworld,LadyEileen.People,especiallyyoungpeople,likereadingaboutsuchthings,andtheylikestillbetterreallydoing them. I’m going to introduce you now to a very creditable band ofamateurs thathasdoneremarkablyfineworkformyDepartment,work thatnobody else could have done. If they’ve chosen rather melodramatictrappings,well,whyshouldn’tthey?They’vebeenwillingtofacerealdanger—dangeroftheveryworstkind—andthey’vedoneitforthesereasons:loveofdangerforitsownsake—whichtomymindisaveryhealthysigninthese

SafetyFirstdays—andanhonestwishtoservetheircountry.

“Andnow,LadyEileen, I’mgoing to introduceyou.Firstofall, there’sMr. Mosgorovsky, whom you already know in a manner of speaking. Asyou’reaware,herunstheclubandherunsahostofotherthingstoo.He’sourmost valuable Secret Anti-Bolshevist Agent in England. No 5 is CountAndras of the Hungarian Embassy, a very near and dear friend of the lateGeraldWade.No 4 isMr.HaywardPhelps, anAmerican journalist,whoseBritish sympathies are very keen andwhose aptitude for scenting ‘news’ isremarkable.No3—”

Hestopped, smiling, andBundle stareddumbfounded into the sheepish,grinningfaceofBillEversleigh.

“No2,”wentonBattleinagravervoice,“canonlyshowanemptyplace.It is the place belonging to Mr. Ronald Devereux, a very gallant younggentlemanwhodiedforhiscountry ifanymaneverdid.No1—well,No1wasMr.GeraldWade,anotherverygallantgentlemanwhodiedinthesameway.Hisplacewastaken—notwithoutsomegravemisgivingsonmypart—byalady—aladywhohasprovedherfitnesstohaveitandwhohasbeenagreathelptous.”

The last todo so,No1, removedhermask, andBundle lookedwithoutsurpriseintothebeautiful,darkfaceofCountessRadzky.

“I might have known,” said Bundle resentfully, “that you were toocompletely the beautiful foreign adventuress to be anything of the kindreally.”

“But youdon’t know the real joke,” saidBill. “Bundle, this isBabeSt.Maur—you remembermy telling you about her andwhat a ripping actressshewas—andshe’saboutprovedit.”

“That’s so,” saidMissMaur in pure transatlantic nasal. “But it’s not aterriblelotofcredittome,becausePoppaandMommacamefromthatpartofYurrup—so Igot thepatter fairly easy.Gee,but Inearlygavemyself awayonceattheAbbey,talkingaboutgardens.”

Shepausedandthensaidabruptly:

“It’s—it’snotbeenjustfun.Yousee,IwaskinderengagedtoRonny,andwhenhehandedinhischecks—well,Ihadtodosomethingtotrackdownthe

skunkwhomurderedhim.That’sall.”

“I’mcompletelybewildered,”saidBundle.“Nothingiswhatitseems.”

“It’sverysimple,LadyEileen,”saidSuperintendentBattle.“Itbeganwithsomeoftheyoungpeoplewantingabitofexcitement.ItwasMr.Wadewhofirstgotontome.Hesuggestedtheformationofabandofwhatyoumightcallamateurworkerstodoabitofsecretservicework.Iwarnedhimthatitmightbedangerous—buthewasn’t thekind toweigh that in thebalance. Imade it plain to him that anyone who came in must do so on thatunderstanding.But, bless you, thatwasn’t going to stop anyofMr.Wade’sfriends.Andsothethingbegan.”

“Butwhatwastheobjectofitall?”askedBundle.

“We wanted a certain man—wanted him badly. He wasn’t an ordinarycrook.Heworked inMr.Wade’sworld, a kind of Raffles, butmuchmoredangerous thananyRaffles everwasor couldbe.Hewasout forbig stuff,internationalstuff.Twicealreadyvaluablesecretinventionshadbeenstolen,andclearlystolenbysomeonewhohadinsideknowledge.Theprofessionalshadhadatry—andfailed.Thentheamateurstookon—andsucceeded.”

“Succeeded?”

“Yes—buttheydidn’tcomeoutofitunscathed.Themanwasdangerous.Two lives fell victim to him and he got awaywith it. But the SevenDialsstucktoit.AndasIsaytheysucceeded.ThankstoMr.Eversleigh, themanwascaughtatlastred-handed.”

“Whowashe?”askedBundle.“DoIknowhim?”

“Youknowhimverywell,LadyEileen.HisnameisMr.JimmyThesiger,andhewasarrestedthisafternoon.”

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Thirty-three

BATTLEEXPLAINS

Superintendent Battle settled down to explain. He spoke comfortably andcosily.

“Ididn’tsuspecthimmyselfforalongtime.ThefirsthintofitIhadwaswhenIheardwhatMr.Devereux’slastwordshadbeen.Naturally,youtookthemtomeanthatMr.DevereuxwastryingtosendwordtoMr.Thesigerthatthe SevenDials had killed him.That’swhat thewords seemed tomean ontheir face value. But of course I knew that that couldn’t be so. It was theSevenDials thatMr.Devereuxwantedtold—andwhathewantedthemtoldwassomethingaboutMr.JimmyThesiger.

“The thing seemed incredible, becauseMr. Devereux andMr. Thesigerwereclosefriends.ButIrememberedsomethingelse—thatthesetheftsmusthavebeencommittedbysomeonewhowasabsolutelyintheknow.Someone,who, if not in theForeignOfficehimself,was in thewayof hearing all itschitchat. And I found it very hard to find out whereMr. Thesiger got hismoney.Theincomehisfatherlefthimwasasmallone,yethewasabletoliveatamostexpensiverate.Wheredidthemoneycomefrom?

“Iknew thatMr.Wadehadbeenveryexcitedbysomething thathehadfoundout.Hewasquitesurethathewasontherighttrack.Hedidn’tconfideinanyoneaboutwhathethoughtthattrackwas,buthedidsaysomethingtoMr.Devereuxaboutbeingonthepointofmakingsure.ThatwasjustbeforetheybothwentdowntoChimneysforthatweekend.Asyouknow,Mr.Wadedied there—apparently from an overdose of a sleeping draught. It seemedstraightforwardenough,butMr.Devereuxdidnotacceptthatexplanationforaminute.HewasconvincedthatMr.Wadehadbeenverycleverlyputoutofthewayandthatsomeoneinthehousemustactuallybethecriminalwewereall after. He came, I think, very near confiding in Mr. Thesiger, for hecertainlyhadnosuspicionsofhimat thatmoment.Butsomethingheldhimback.

“Thenhedida rathercurious thing.Hearrangedsevenclocksupon themantelpiece, throwing away the eighth. It wasmeant as a symbol that theSeven Dials would revenge the death of one of their members—and hewatched eagerly to see if anyone betrayed themselves or showed signs ofperturbation.”

“AnditwasJimmyThesigerwhopoisonedGerryWade?”

“Yes, he slipped the stuff into awhisky and sodawhichMr.Wade haddownstairsbefore retiring tobed.That’swhyhewasalready feeling sleepywhenhewrotethatlettertoMissWade.”

“Thenthefootman,Bauer,hadn’tanythingtodowithit?”askedBundle.

“Bauerwasoneofourpeople,LadyEileen.Itwasthoughtlikelythatourcrook would go for Herr Eberhard’s invention and Bauer was got into thehousetowatcheventsonourbehalf.Buthewasn’tabletodomuch.AsIsay,Mr.Thesigeradministeredthefataldoseeasilyenough.Later,wheneveryonewas asleep, a bottle, glass and empty chloral bottle were placed by Mr.Wade’s bedside byMr. Thesiger.Mr.Wadewas unconscious then, and hisfingers were probably pressed round the glass and the bottle so that theyshouldbefoundthereifanyquestionsshouldarise.Idon’tknowwhateffectthe seven clocks on the mantelpiece made on Mr. Thesiger. He certainlydidn’tletonanythingtoMr.Devereux.Allthesame,Ithinkhehadabadfiveminutesnowandagain thinkingof them.AndI thinkhekeptaprettywaryeyeonMr.Devereuxafterthat.

“Wedon’t knowexactlywhathappenednext.Noone sawmuchofMr.Devereux afterMr.Wade’s death. But it is clear that he worked along thesamelinesthatheknewMr.Wadehadbeenworkingonandreachedthesameresult—namely, that Mr. Thesiger was the man. I fancy, too, that he wasbetrayedinthesameway.”

“Youmean?”

“ThroughMissLoraineWade.Mr.Wadewasdevotedtoher—Ibelievehehopedtomarryher—shewasn’t reallyhissister,ofcourse—andthere isnodoubtthathetoldhermorethanheshouldhavedone.ButMissLoraineWadewasdevotedbodyandsoul toMr.Thesiger.Shewoulddoanythinghe toldher. She passed on the information to him. In the same way, later, Mr.Devereuxwasattractedtoher,andprobablywarnedheragainstMr.Thesiger.

SoMr.Devereux in turnwassilenced—anddied trying tosendword to theSevenDialsthathismurdererwasMr.Thesiger.”

“Howghastly,”criedBundle.“IfIhadonlyknown.”

“Well, it didn’t seem likely. In fact, I could hardly credit itmyself.ButthenwecametotheaffairattheAbbey.Youwillrememberhowawkwarditwas—speciallyawkwardforMr.Eversleighhere.YouandMr.Thesigerwerehandinglove.Mr.Eversleighhadalreadybeenembarrassedbyyourinsistingon being brought to this place, and when he found that you had actuallyoverheardwhatwentonatameeting,hewasdumbfounded.”

TheSuperintendentpausedandatwinklecameintohiseye.

“SowasI,LadyEileen.Ineverdreamedofsucha thingbeingpossible.Youputoneoveronmethereallright.

“Well, Mr. Eversleigh was in a dilemma. He couldn’t let you into thesecretoftheSevenDialswithoutlettingMr.Thesigerinalso—andthatwouldnever do. It all suitedMr. Thesiger verywell, of course, for it gave him abonafidereasonforgettinghimselfaskedto theAbbey,whichmadethingseasierforhim.

“Imaysaythat theSevenDialshadalreadysentawarningletter toMr.Lomax.Thatwastoensurehisapplyingtomeforassistance,sothatIshouldbeabletobeonthespotinaperfectlynaturalmanner.Imadenosecretofmypresence,asyouknow.”

AndagaintheSuperintendent’seyetwinkled.

“Well, ostensibly, Mr. Eversleigh and Mr. Thesiger were to divide thenightintotwowatches.Really,Mr.EversleighandMissSt.Maurdidso.ShewasonguardatthelibrarywindowwhensheheardMr.Thesigercomingandhadtodartbehindthescreen.

“AndnowcomestheclevernessofMr.Thesiger.Uptoapointhetoldmeaperfectly truestory,andImustadmit thatwith thefightandeverything, Iwasdistinctlyshaken—andbegantowonderwhetherhehadhadanythingtodowith the theftatall,orwhetherwewerecompletelyon thewrong track.Therewere one or two suspicious circumstances that pointed in an entirelydifferentdirection,andIcantellyouIdidn’tknowwhat tomakeof things,whensomethingturneduptoclinchmatters.

“Ifoundtheburntgloveinthefireplacewiththeteethmarksonit—andthen—well—IknewthatI’dbeenrightafterall.But,uponmyword,hewasacleverone.”

“Whatactuallyhappened?”saidBundle.“Whowastheotherman?”

“Therewasn’tanyotherman.Listen,andI’llshowyouhowintheendIreconstructed thewhole story. To beginwith,Mr.Thesiger andMissWadewere in this together.And they have a rendezvous for an exact time.MissWadecomesover inher car, climbs through the fenceandcomesup to thehouse.She’sgotaperfectlygoodstoryifanyonestopsher—theoneshetoldeventually.Butshearrivedunmolestedontheterracejustaftertheclockhadstrucktwo.

“Now,Imaysaytobeginwiththatshewasseencomingin.Mymensawher,buttheyhadorderstostopnobodycomingin—onlygoingout.Iwanted,you see, to findout asmuchaspossible.MissWadearriveson the terrace,andatthatminuteaparcelfallsatherfeetandshepicksitup.Amancomesdown the ivy and she starts to run.What happens next?The struggle—andpresentlytherevolvershots.Whatwilleveryonedo?Rushtothesceneofthefight.AndMissLoraineWadecouldhaveleftthegroundsanddrivenoffwiththeformulasafelyinherpossession.

“Butthingsdon’thappenquitelikethat.MissWaderunsstraightintomyarms. And at that moment the game changes. It’s no longer attack butdefence.MissWadetellsherstory.Itisperfectlytrueandperfectlysensible.

“Andnowwe come toMr.Thesiger.One thing struckme at once.Thebulletwoundalonecouldn’thavecausedhimtofaint.Eitherhehadfallenandhithishead—or—wellhehadn’tfaintedatall.LaterwehadMissSt.Maur’sstory.ItagreedperfectlywithMr.Thesiger’s—therewasonlyonesuggestivepoint. Miss St. Maur said that after the lights were turned out and Mr.Thesigerwentover to thewindow,hewas so still that she thoughthemusthavelefttheroomandgoneoutside.Now,ifanyoneisintheroom,youcanhardlyhelphearingtheirbreathingifyouarelisteningforit.Supposing,then,that Mr. Thesiger had gone outside. Where next? Up the ivy to Mr.O’Rourke’sroom—Mr.O’Rourke’swhiskyandsodahavingbeendopedthenightbefore.Hegetsthepapers,throwsthemdowntothegirl,climbsdownthe ivy again, and—starts the fight. That’s easy enoughwhen you come tothinkof it.Knock the tablesdown, stagger about, speak inyourownvoice

andtheninahoarsehalfwhisper.Andthen,thefinaltouch,thetworevolvershots.HisownColt automatic, boughtopenly thedaybefore, is fired at animaginaryassailant.Then,withhisleftglovedhand,hetakesfromhispocketthesmallMauserpistolandshootshimselfthroughthefleshypartoftherightarm. He flings the pistol through the window, tears off the glove with histeeth,and throws it into thefire.WhenIarrivehe is lyingon thefloor inafaint.”

Bundledrewadeepbreath.

“Youdidn’trealizeallthisatthetime,SuperintendentBattle?”

“No,thatIdidn’t.Iwastakeninasmuchasanyonecouldbe.Itwasn’ttilllong afterwards that I pieced it all together. Finding the glove was thebeginningofit.ThenImadeSirOswaldthrowthepistolthroughthewindow.Itfellagoodwayfartheronthanitshouldhavedone.Butamanwhoisright-handeddoesn’tthrownearlyasfarwiththelefthand.Eventhenitwasonlysuspicion—andaveryfaintsuspicionatthat.

“But therewasonepoint struckme.Thepaperswereobviously throwndownforsomeonetopickup.IfMissWadewastherebyaccident,whowastherealperson?Ofcourse,forthosewhoweren’tintheknow,thatquestionwasansweredeasilyenough—theCountess.ButthereIhadthepulloveryou.Iknew theCountesswasall right.Sowhat follows?Why, the idea that thepapershadactuallybeenpickedupby theperson theyweremeantfor.Andthe more I thought of it, the more it seemed to me a very remarkablecoincidence that MissWade should have arrived at the exact moment shedid.”

“It must have been very difficult for you when I came to you full ofsuspicionabouttheCountess.”

“Itwas,LadyEileen.Ihadtosaysomethingtoputyouoffthescent.Anditwasverydifficult forMr.Eversleighhere,with the ladycomingoutof adeadfaintandnoknowingwhatshemightsay.”

“I understand Bill’s anxiety now,” said Bundle. “And the way he kepturginghertotaketimeandnottalktillshefeltquiteallright.”

“PooroldBill,” saidMissSt.Maur.“Thatpoorbabyhad tobevampedagainsthiswill—gettingmadder’nahorneteveryminute.”

“Well,”saidSuperintendentBattle,“thereitwas.IsuspectedMr.Thesiger—butIcouldn’tgetdefiniteproof.Ontheotherhand,Mr.Thesigerhimselfwas rattled.He realizedmore or lesswhat hewas up against in the SevenDials—buthewantedbadlytoknowwhoNo7was.HegothimselfaskedtotheCootesundertheimpressionthatSirOswaldCootewasNo7.”

“IsuspectedSirOswald,”saidBundle,“especiallywhenhecameinfromthegardenthatnight.”

“Ineversuspectedhim,”saidBattle.“ButIdon’tmindtellingyouthatIdidhavemysuspicionsofthatyoungchap,hissecretary.”

“Pongo?”saidBill.“NotoldPongo?”

“Yes, Mr. Eversleigh, old Pongo as you call him. A very efficientgentlemanandonethatcouldhaveputanythingthroughifhe’damindto.Isuspectedhimpartlybecausehe’dbeen theone to take the clocks intoMr.Wade’sroomthatnight.Itwouldhavebeeneasyforhimtoputthebottleandglass by the bedside then.And then, for another thing, hewas left-handed.Thatglovepointedstraighttohim—ifithadn’tbeenforonething—”

“What?”

“Theteethmarks—onlyamanwhoserighthandwasincapacitatedwouldhaveneededtotearoffthatglovewithhisteeth.”

“SoPongowascleared.”

“SoPongowascleared,asyousay.I’msureitwouldbeagreatsurprisetoMr.Batemantoknowhewaseversuspected.”

“It would,” agreed Bill. “A solemn card—a silly ass like Pongo. Howcouldyoueverthink—”

“Well,asfarasthatgoes,Mr.Thesigerwaswhatyoumightdescribeasanempty-headed young ass of themost brainless description. One of the twowasplayingapart.WhenIdecidedthatitwasMr.Thesiger,IwasinterestedtogetMr.Bateman’sopinionofhim.Allalong,Mr.BatemanhadthegravestsuspicionsofMr.ThesigerandfrequentlysaidasmuchtoSirOswald.”

“It’scurious,”saidBill,“butPongoalwaysisright.It’smaddening.”

“Well, as I say,” went on Superintendent Battle, “we gotMr. Thesigerfairlyon the run,badly rattledover thisSevenDialsbusinessanduncertain

justwherethedangerlay.ThatwegothimintheendwassolelythroughMr.Eversleigh.Heknewwhathewasupagainst,andheriskedhislifecheerfully.Butheneverdreamtthatyouwouldbedraggedintoit,LadyEileen.”

“MyGod,no,”saidBillwithfeeling.

“He went round to Mr. Thesiger’s rooms with a cooked-up tale,”continuedBattle. “Hewas to pretend that certain papers ofMr.Devereux’shad come into his hands. Those paperswere to suggest a suspicion ofMr.Thesiger.Naturally, as thehonest friend,Mr.Eversleigh rushed round, surethatMr.Thesigerwouldhaveanexplanation.Wecalculatedthat ifwewereright,Mr.ThesigerwouldtryandputMr.Eversleighoutoftheway,andwewerefairlycertainastothewayhe’ddoit.Sureenough,Mr.Thesigergavehisguestawhiskyandsoda.Duringtheminuteortwothathishostwasoutoftheroom.Mr.Eversleighpouredthatintoajaronthemantelpiece,buthehadto pretend, of course, that the drugwas taking effect. Itwould be slow, heknew,notsudden.Hebeganhisstory,andMr.Thesigeratfirstdenieditallindignantly, but as soon as he saw (or thought he saw) that the drug wastakingeffect,headmittedeverythingandtoldMr.Eversleighthathewasthethirdvictim.

“WhenMr. Eversleigh was nearly unconscious,Mr. Thesiger took himdowntothecarandhelpedhimin.Thehoodwasup.HemustalreadyhavetelephonedtoyouunknowntoMr.Eversleigh.Hemadeacleversuggestiontoyou.YouweretosaythatyouweretakingMissWadehome.

“Youmadenomentionofamessagefromhim.Laterwhenyourbodywasfoundhere,MissWadewouldswearthatyouhaddrivenherhomeandgoneuptoLondonwiththeideaofpenetratingintothishousebyyourself.

“Mr.Eversleighcontinuedtoplayhispart,thatoftheunconsciousman.ImaysaythatassoonasthetwoyoungmenhadleftJermynStreet,oneofmymen gained admission and found the doctored whisky, which containedenoughhydrochlorideofmorphiatokilltwomen.Alsothecartheywereinwasfollowed.Mr.Thesigerdroveoutof towntoawell-knowngolfcourse,where he showed himself for a fewminutes, speaking of playing a round.That,ofcourse,wasforanalibi,shouldonebeneeded.HeleftthecarwithMr.Eversleighinitalittlewaydowntheroad.ThenhedrovebacktotownandtotheSevenDialsClub.AssoonashesawAlfredleave,hedroveuptothedoor,spoketoMr.Eversleighashegotoutincaseyoumightbelistening

andcameintothehouseandplayedhislittlecomedy.

“Whenhepretendedtogoforadoctor,hereallyonlyslammedthedoorand thencreptquietlyupstairsandhidbehind thedoorof this room,whereMissWadewouldpresentlysendyouuponsomeexcuse.Mr.Eversleigh,ofcourse,washorror-struckwhenhesawyou,buthethoughtitbesttokeepuptheparthewasplaying.Heknewourpeoplewerewatchingthehouse,andheimagined that there was no immediate danger intended to you. He couldalways‘cometolife’atanymoment.WhenMr.Thesigerthrewhisrevolveronthetableandapparentlyleftthehouseitseemedsaferthanever.Asforthenextbit—”Hepaused,lookingatBill.“Perhapsyou’dliketotellthat,sir.”

“Iwasstilllyingonthatballysofa,”saidBill,“tryingtolookdoneinandgetting the fidgets worse and worse. Then I heard someone run down thestairs,andLorainegotupandwenttothedoor.IheardThesiger’svoice,butnotwhathesaid.IheardLorainesay:‘That’sallright—it’sgonesplendidly.’Thenhesaid:‘Helpmecarryhimup.Itwillbeabitofajob,butIwantthembothtogetherthere—anicelittlesurpriseforNo7.’Ididn’tquiteunderstandwhat theywere jawingabout,but theyhauledmeup thestairs somehoworother. Itwas abitofa job for them. Imademyselfadeadweightall right.Theyheavedme inhere, and then IheardLoraine say: ‘You’re sure it’s allright? She won’t come round?’ And Jimmy said—the damned blackguard:‘Nofear.Ihitherwithallmymight.’

“Theywent away and locked the door, and then I openedmy eyes andsaw you. My God, Bundle, I shall never feel so perfectly awful again. Ithoughtyouweredead.”

“Isupposemyhatsavedme,”saidBundle.

“Partly,” said Superintendent Battle. “But partly it was Mr. Thesiger’swounded arm. He didn’t realize it himself—but it had only half its usualstrength.Still,that’sallnocredittotheDepartment.Wedidn’ttakethecareofyouweoughttohavedone,LadyEileen—andit’sablackblotonthewholebusiness.”

“I’mvery tough,”saidBundle.“Andalso rather lucky.What Ican’tgetoverisLorainebeinginit.Shewassuchagentlelittlething.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “So was the Pentonville murderess thatkilled five children.You can’t go by that. She’s got bad blood in her—her

fatheroughttohaveseentheinsideofaprisonmorethanonce.”

“You’vegothertoo?”

SuperintendentBattlenodded.

“I daresay they won’t hang her—juries are softhearted. But youngThesigerwillswingallright—andagoodthingtoo—amoreutterlydepravedandcallouscriminalInevermet.”

“Andnow,”headded,“ifyourheadisn’tachingtoobadly,LadyEileen,what about a little celebration? There’s a nice little restaurant round thecorner.”

Bundleheartilyagreed.

“I’m starving, Superintendent Battle. Besides,” she looked round. “I’vegottogettoknowallmycolleagues.”

“The SevenDials,” saidBill. “Hurrah! Some fizz iswhatwe need.Dotheyruntofizzatthisplace,Battle?”

“Youwon’thaveanythingtocomplainof,sir.Youleaveittome.”

“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle, “you are a wonderful man. I’msorryyou’remarriedalready.Asitis,IshallhavetoputupwithBill.”

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Thirty-four

LORDCATERHAMAPPROVES

“Father,” saidBundle, “I’ve got to break a piece of news to you.You’regoingtoloseme.”

“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “Don’t tell me that you’re sufferingfromgallopingconsumptionoraweakheartoranythinglikethat,becauseIsimplydon’tbelieveit.”

“It’snotdeath,”saidBundle.“It’smarriage.”

“Verynearlyasbad,”saidLordCaterham.“IsupposeIshallhavetocometo thewedding, all dressedup in tight uncomfortable clothes, andgiveyouaway.AndLomaxmaythinkitnecessarytokissmeinthevestry.”

“Good heavens!You don’t think I’m going tomarryGeorge, do you?”criedBundle.

“Well,somethinglikethatseemedtobeinthewindlasttimeIsawyou,”saidherfather.“Yesterdaymorning,youknow.”

“I’mgoingtobemarriedtosomeoneahundredtimesnicerthanGeorge,”saidBundle.

“Ihopeso,I’msure,”saidLordCaterham.“Butoneneverknows.Idon’tfeelyou’rereallyagoodjudgeofcharacter,Bundle.YoutoldmethatyoungThesigerwasacheerfulinefficient,andfromallIhearnowitseemsthathewas one of themost efficient criminals of the day. The sad thing is that Inever met him. I was thinking of writing my reminiscences soon—with aspecialchapteronmurderersIhavemet—andbyapurelytechnicaloversight,Inevermetthisyoungman.”

“Don’tbesilly,” saidBundle.“Youknowyouhaven’tgot theenergy towritereminiscencesoranythingelse.”

“Iwasn’t actually going towrite themmyself,” saidLordCaterham. “Ibelieve that’sneverdone.But Imetaverycharminggirl theotherdayand

that’s her special job. She collects the material and does all the actualwriting.”

“Andwhatdoyoudo?”

“Oh, justgivehera fewfacts forhalfanhoureveryday.Nothingmorethan that.” After a slight pause, Lord Catherham said: “She was a nice-lookinggirl—veryrestfulandsympathetic.”

“Father,”saidBundle,“Ihaveafeelingthatwithoutmeyouwillrunintodeadlydanger.”

“Different kinds of danger suit different kinds of people,” said LordCaterham.

Hewasmovingaway,whenheturnedbackandsaidoverhisshoulder:

“Bytheway,Bundle,whoareyoumarrying?”

“Iwaswondering,” saidBundle, “whenyouweregoing toaskme that.I’mgoingtomarryBillEversleigh.”

The egoist thought it over for a minute. Then he nodded in completesatisfaction.

“Excellent,”hesaid.“He’sscratch,isn’the?HeandIcanplaytogetherinthefoursomesintheAutumnMeeting.”

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AbouttheAuthor

AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage, outsold only by theBible andShakespeare.Her books have soldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages. She is the author of eighty crime novels and short-storycollections, nineteen plays, twomemoirs, and six novels written under thenameMaryWestmacott.

She first tried her hand at detective fictionwhileworking in a hospitaldispensary duringWorldWar I, creating the now legendaryHercule PoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage, published in 1930, she introduced another beloved sleuth, MissJane Marple. Additional series characters include the husband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParker Pyne, and Scotland Yard detectives Superintendent Battle andInspectorJapp.

ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderon theOrientExpress (1974)andDeathon theNile(1978), with Albert Finney and Peter Ustinov playing Hercule Poirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedby David Suchet, and Miss Marple by Joan Hickson and subsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.

ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedone of Britain’s highest honorswhen shewasmade aDame of theBritishEmpire. She died in 1976 at the age of eighty-five. Her one hundred andtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.

Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.

www.AgathaChristie.com

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THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION

TheManintheBrownSuit

TheSecretofChimneys

TheSevenDialsMystery

TheMysteriousMr.Quin

TheSittafordMystery

ParkerPyneInvestigates

WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?

MurderIsEasy

TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories

AndThenThereWereNone

TowardsZero

DeathComesastheEnd

SparklingCyanide

TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories

CrookedHouse

ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories

TheyCametoBaghdad

DestinationUnknown

OrdealbyInnocence

DoubleSinandOtherStories

ThePaleHorse

StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories

EndlessNight

PassengertoFrankfurt

TheGoldenBallandOtherStories

TheMousetrapandOtherPlays

TheHarlequinTeaSetandOtherStories

TheHerculePoirotMysteries

TheMysteriousAffairatStyles

TheMurderontheLinks

PoirotInvestigates

TheMurderofRogerAckroyd

TheBigFour

TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain

PerilatEndHouse

LordEdgwareDies

MurderontheOrientExpress

ThreeActTragedy

DeathintheClouds

TheA.B.C.Murders

MurderinMesopotamia

CardsontheTable

MurderintheMews

DumbWitness

DeathontheNile

AppointmentwithDeath

HerculePoirot’sChristmas

SadCypress

One,Two,BuckleMyShoe

EvilUndertheSun

FiveLittlePigs

TheHollow

TheLaborsofHercules

TakenattheFlood

TheUnderDogandOtherStories

Mrs.McGinty’sDead

AftertheFuneral

HickoryDickoryDock

DeadMan’sFolly

CatAmongthePigeons

TheClocks

ThirdGirl

Hallowe’enParty

ElephantsCanRemember

Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase

TheMissMarpleMysteries

TheMurderattheVicarage

TheBodyintheLibrary

TheMovingFinger

AMurderIsAnnounced

TheyDoItwithMirrors

APocketFullofRye

4:50fromPaddington

TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide

ACaribbeanMystery

AtBertram’sHotel

Nemesis

SleepingMurder

MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories

TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries

TheSecretAdversary

PartnersinCrime

NorM?

BythePrickingofMyThumbs

PosternofFate

Memoirs

AnAutobiography

Come,TellMeHowYouLive

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Copyright

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

AGATHACHRISTIE®THESEVENDIALSMYSTERY™.Copyright©1929AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.

THESEVENDIALSMYSTERY©1929.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthisebookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinsebooks.Forinformation,addressHarperCollinsPublishers,10East53rdStreet,NewYork,NY10022.

Formoreinformationabouteducationaluse,teachersshouldvisitwww.HarperAcademic.com.

FIRSTWILLIAMMORROWPAPERBACKEDITIONPUBLISHED2012.

LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.

ISBN978-0-06-207416-4

EpubEdition©JANUARY2012ISBN:978-0-06-200674-5

1213141516DIX/BVG10987654321

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