Mr. Fish’s slow, drawling voice was interrupted. Bundle was leaning out of a first-floor window.
“Care for a spin to town, Mr. Fish? I’m just off.”
“Thank you, Lady Eileen, but I am vurry happy here.”
“Sure you won’t change your mind, Mr. Cade?”
Anthony laughed and shook his head. Bundle disappeared.
“Sleep is more in my line,” said Anthony, with a wide yawn. “A good after luncheon nap!” He took out a cigarette. “You haven’t got a match, have you?”
Mr. Fish handed him a match-box. Anthony helped himself, and handed back the box with a word of thanks.
“Roses,” said Anthony, “are all very well. But I don’t feel particularly horticultural this afternoon.”
With a disarming smile, he nodded cheerfully.
A thundering noise sounded from just outside the house.
“Pretty powerful engine she’s got in that car of hers,” remarked Anthony. “There, off she goes.”
They had a view of the car speeding down the long drive.
Anthony yawned again, and strolled towards the house.
He passed in through the door. Once inside, he seemed as though changed to quicksilver. He raced across the hall, out through one of the windows on the farther side, and across the park. Bundle, he knew, had to make a big détour by the lodge gates, and through the village.
He ran desperately. It was a race against time. He reached the park wall just as he heard the car outside. He swung himself up and dropped into the road.
“Hi!” cried Anthony.
In her astonishment, Bundle swerved half across the road. She managed to pull up without accident. Anthony ran after the car, opened the door, and jumped in beside Bundle.
“I’m coming to London with you,” he said. “I meant to all along.”
“Extraordinary person,” said Bundle. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”
“Only a match,” said Anthony.
He regarded it thoughtfully. It was pink, with a yellow head. He threw away his unlighted cigarette, and put the match carefully into his pocket.
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