A tall man with a close cropped white moustache, and an exaggeratedly martial bearing opened the door before Tommy had time to ring.
“I’ve been looking out for you,” he explained fussily. “ Mr. Blunt, is it not? I am Colonel Kingston Bruce. Will you come into my study?”
He led them into a small room at the back of the house.
“Young St. Vincent was telling me wonderful things about your firm. I’ve noticed your advertisements myself. This guaranteed twenty-four hours service of yours—a marvelous notion. That’s exactly what I need.”
Inwardly anathematizing Tuppence for her irresponsibility in inventing this brilliant detail, Tommy replied: “Just so, Colonel.”
“The whole thing is most distressing, sir, most distressing.”
“Perhaps you would kindly give me the