“Dear Sir,

“ Re. your advertisement, I should be glad if you would call round somewhere about lunchtime.

“Yours truly,

“Julius P. Hersheimmer.”

“Ha!” said Tommy. “Do I smell a Boche? Or only an American millionaire of unfortunate ancestry? At all events we’ll call at lunchtime. It’s a good time⁠—frequently leads to free food for two.”

Tuppence nodded assent.

“Now for Carter. We’ll have to hurry.”