the time, and rather a humorous present to get from a strictly teetotal aunt.”
“I,” said Tuppence, “shall be Polton.”
Tommy looked at her scornfully.
“Polton indeed. You couldn’t begin to do one of the things that he does.”
“Yes, I can,” said Tuppence. “I can rub my hands together when I’m pleased. That’s quite enough to get on with. I hope you’re going to take plaster casts of footprints?”
Tommy was reduced to silence. Having collected the corkscrew they went round to the garage, got out the car and started for Wimbledon.
The Laurels was a big house. It ran somewhat to gables and turrets, had an air of being very newly painted, and was surrounded with neat flower beds filled with scarlet geraniums.