"So glad you could spare time, Mr. Fortune." She sat down to her writing-table. "My brother tells me I can have every confidence in your discretion."
"So good of him," Reggie murmured. He was annoyed with Lomas. He had meant only to make friends with the good lady. It appeared that he was to be an official investigator of the silly girls' school mystery. An embarrassing position. And Miss Lomas was visibly without humour.
"You will understand that discretion is essential in this case, Mr. Fortune. Anything in the nature of publicity would be unpardonable. You look very young."
"I try to be," Reggie said modestly.
Miss Lomas coughed. "These are the facts, Mr. Fortune."
With minute and tiresome detail Reggie heard it all over again and learnt nothing new. One mistress's room turned upside down in the night, nothing spoilt or taken—an interval—another mistress's room turned upside down and a number of photographs of girls taken. Only that and nothing more. Reggie was bored, and let his eyes wander from the intensity of Miss Lomas. When at last she stopped, frowning at his lack of attention, and waited in angry majesty for him to say something—
"Are you interested in archæology?" was what he said.
