“Too well,” said Bundle decidedly.
“Eh?” said Jimmy, surprised.
“What about No. 7— No. 7, who never appears, but lives in the background? The Countess and Bauer? No, it’s not so simple as that. Bauer was here last night, yes. But he was only here in case things went wrong—as they have done. His part is the part of scapegoat; to draw all attention from No. 7—the boss.”
“I say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t been reading too much sensational literature, have you?”
Bundle threw him a glance of dignified reproach.
“Well,” said Jimmy, “I’m not yet like the Red Queen. I can’t believe six impossible things before breakfast.”
“It’s after breakfast,” said Bundle.
“Or even after breakfast. We’ve got a perfectly good hypothesis which fits the facts—and you won’t have it at any price, simply because, like the old riddle, you want to make things more difficult.”
“I’m sorry,” said Bundle, “but I cling passionately to a mysterious No. 7 being a member of the house-party.”
“What does Bill think?”
“Bill,” said Bundle coldly, “is impossible.”
“Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him about the Countess? He ought to be warned. Heaven knows what he’ll go blabbing about otherwise.”
“He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle. “He’s—oh, simply idiotic. I wish you’d drive it home to him about that mole.”