“Yes. And his secretary, Terence O’Rourke. He’s rather a lad, by the way⁠—or used to be in his flying days. Then there’s a perfectly poisonous German chap called Herr Eberhard. I don’t know who he is, but we’re all making the hell of a fuss about him. I’ve been twice told off to take him out to lunch, and I can tell you, Bundle, it was no joke. He’s not like the Embassy chaps, who are all very decent. This man sucks in soup and eats peas with a knife. Not only that, but the brute is always biting his fingernails⁠—positively gnaws at them.”

“Pretty foul.”

“Isn’t it? I believe he invents things⁠—something of the kind. Well, that’s all. Oh, yes, Sir Oswald Coote.”

“And Lady Coote?”

“Yes, I believe she’s coming too.”

Bundle sat lost in thought for some minutes. Bill’s list was suggestive, but she hadn’t time to think out various possibilities just now. She must get on to the next point.