“What etchings?” she asked, as the drawing-room door closed behind her.

“No etchings,” said Jimmy. “I’d got to say something to get hold of you. Come on. Bill is waiting for us in the library. There’s nobody there.”

Bill was striding up and down the library, clearly in a very perturbed state of mind.

“Look here,” he burst out, “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“You being mixed up in this. Ten to one there’s going to be a rough house and then⁠—”

He looked at her with a kind of pathetic dismay that gave Bundle a warm and comfortable feeling.

“She ought to be kept out of it, oughtn’t she, Jimmy?”

He appealed to the other.