“Where do you pick up these nice-looking men, Virginia? ‘How do you do it?’ says she enviously.”
“You can have him,” said Virginia generously. “I want Lord Caterham.”
She smiled upon the flattered peer, slipped her hand through his arm and they moved off together.
“Do you talk?” asked Bundle. “Or are you just strong and silent?”
“Talk?” said Anthony. “I babble. I murmur. I gurgle—like the running brook, you know. Sometimes I even ask questions.”
“As for instance?”
“Who occupies the second room on the left from the end?”
He pointed to it as he spoke.
“What an extraordinary question!” said Bundle. “You intrigue me greatly. Let me see—yes—that’s Mademoiselle Brun’s room. The French governess. She endeavours to keep my young sisters in order. Dulcie and Daisy—like the song, you know. I dare say they’d have called the next one Dorothy May. But mother got tired of having nothing but girls and died. Thought some one else could take on the job of providing an heir.”
“Mademoiselle Brun,” said Anthony thoughtfully. “How long has she been with you?”
“Two months. She came to us when we were in Scotland.”
“Ha!” said Anthony. “I smell a rat.”
“I wish I could smell some lunch,” said Bundle. “Do I ask the Scotland Yard man to have lunch with us, Mr. Cade? You’re a man of the world, you know about the etiquette of such things. We’ve never had a murder in the house before. Exciting, isn’t it? I’m sorry your character was so completely cleared this morning. I’ve always wanted to meet a murderer and see for myself if they’re as genial and charming as the Sunday papers always say they are. God! what’s that?”
“What” seemed to be a taxi approaching the house. Its two occupants were a tall man with a bald head and a black beard, and a smaller and younger man with a black moustache. Anthony recognized the former, and guessed that it was he—rather than the vehicle which contained him—that had wrung the exclamation of astonishment from his companion’s lips.
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