Part 16 (1/2)
”Theirs was only a flying visit,” I explained. ”I was lucky to get hold of them for my dinner.”
”I'm hanged if I understand this!” Reggie remarked, looking at me suspiciously. ”Why, I spent the best part of three weeks with them in that G.o.dforsaken hole out West, and they were as keen as mustard on my taking them round London. How long have they been here?”
”Not long,” I answered. ”Sure you won't have some coffee?”
Reggie ignored the invitation.
”They've got my address and there are the directories,” he continued. ”The funny part of it is, too, that I heard from Mrs. Bundercombe a week or so ago, and she never said a word about any of them coming over.”
”They seem to have made their minds up all of a sudden,” I explained.
”They spoke of it as quite a flying trip.”
Reggie coughed and stared for a moment at the end of his boot.
”Can't understand it at all!” he repeated. ”Devilish queer thing, anyway!
I say, Paul, you're sure it's all right, I suppose?”
”All right? What do you mean?”
”Between you and me,” he went on--”don't give it away outside this room, you know--but there have been rumors going about concerning an American and his pretty daughter over here--regular wrong 'uns! They've been up to all sorts of tricks and only kept out of prison by a fluke.”
”You're not a.s.sociating these people, whoever they may be, with Mr. and Miss Bundercombe?” I asked sternly.
Reggie gazed once more at the point of his boot.
”The thing is,” he remarked, ”are your friends Mr. and Miss Bundercombe at all?”
”Don't talk rot!”
”It may be rot,” Reggie admitted slowly, ”or it may not. By the by, where did you meet them?”
”If you don't mind,” I answered, ”we won't discuss them any longer.”
”At least,” Reggie insisted, ”will you tell me this: Where have they been staying in London? I shall go there and see whether they have left any address for letters to be forwarded.”
”I shall tell you nothing,” I decided. ”As a matter of fact I am finding you rather a nuisance.”
Reggie picked up his hat.
”There is something more in this,” he said didactically, ”than meets the eye!”
”Machiavellian!” I scoffed. ”Be off, Reggie!”
I had tea with Eve that afternoon and broached the subject of Reggie's visit as delicately as I could.
”You remember Lord Reggie Sidley?” I asked.
”Lord Reggie what!” Eve exclaimed.