said.
“At which hotel?”
“The hotel you’re staying at.”
“I am not staying at an hotel.”
“Stopping with friends—what?”
“I am naturally stopping with my nephew.”
I didn’t get it for the moment; then it hit me.
“What! Here?” I gurgled.
“Certainly! Where else should I go?”
The full horror of the situation rolled over me like a wave. I couldn’t see what on earth I was to do. I couldn’t explain that this wasn’t Rocky’s flat without giving the poor old chap away hopelessly, because she would then ask me where he did live, and then he would be right in the soup. I was trying to induce the old bean to recover from the shock and produce some results when she spoke again.
“Will you kindly tell my