“I don’t suppose there’s anyone much worth burgling,” said Lawrence, trying to enter into her mood. “Unless we stole Miss Hartnell’s false teeth.”
“They do click horribly,” said Griselda. “But you’re wrong about there being no one worth while. There’s some marvellous old silver at Old Hall. Trencher salts and a Charles II Tazza—all kinds of things like that. Worth thousands of pounds, I believe.”
“The old man would probably shoot you with an army revolver,” said Dennis. “Just the sort of thing he’d enjoy doing.”
“Oh! we’d get in first and hold him up,” said Griselda. “Who’s got a revolver?”
“I’ve got a Mauser pistol,” said Lawrence.
“Have you? How exciting! Why do you have it?”
“Souvenir of the war,” said Lawrence briefly.
“Old Protheroe was showing the silver to Stone today,” volunteered Dennis. “Old Stone was pretending to be no end interested in it.”
“I thought they’d quarrelled about the barrow,” said Griselda.
“Oh! they’ve made that up,” said Dennis. “I can’t think what people want to grub about in barrows for, anyway.”
“The man Stone puzzles me,” said Lawrence. “I think he must be very absentminded. You’d swear sometimes he knew nothing about his own subject.”
“That’s love,” said Dennis. “Sweet Gladys Cram, you are no sham. Your teeth are white and fill me with delight. Come, fly with me, my bride to be. And at the Blue Boar, on the bedroom floor—”