said, toddling over to his corner full of bonhomie, for I was glad to see the chump, “How’s the boy?”
“Jogging along.”
“I saw your uncle yesterday.”
Young Bingo unleashed a grin that split his face in half.
“I know you did, you trifler. Well, sit down, old thing, and suck a bit of blood. How’s the prowling these days?”
“Good Lord! You weren’t there!”
“Yes, I was.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Yes, you did. But perhaps you didn’t recognise me in the shrubbery.”
“The shrubbery?”
“The beard, my boy. Worth every penny I paid for it. Defies detection. Of course, it’s a nuisance having people shouting ‘Beaver!’ at you all the time, but one’s got to put up with that.”
I goggled at him.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s