Doing what is familiarly known as “wringing his hands,” Alfred departed.

Presently he returned with a tray, and having by now realised that his protests were useless, he worked with a nervous energy quite surprising.

As Bundle had seen, the shelves were easily detachable. She took them down, ranged them upright against the wall, and then stepped in.

“H’m,” she remarked. “Pretty narrow. It’s going to be a tight fit. Shut the door on me carefully, Alfred⁠—that’s right. Yes, it can be done. Now I want a gimlet.”

“A gimlet, my lady?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I don’t know⁠—”