the day is out.”
True enough, after dinner a note was brought. It was from Monica.
“I have just heard from Dr. O’Neill. He raises his previous offer by £150.”
“The nephew must be a man of means,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “And I tell you what, Tuppence, the prize he’s after must be well worth while.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh! if only we could find it!”
“Well, let’s get on with the spade work.”
They were sorting through the big box of papers, a wearisome affair, as they were all jumbled up pell mell without any kind of order or method. Every few minutes they compared notes.
“What’s the latest, Tuppence?”
“Two old receipted bills, three unimportant letters, a recipe for preserving new potatoes and one for making lemon cheesecake. What’s yours?”