“Of course. I understand perfectly now. I can make allowances for your being a little upset, my dear. I was not far wrong when I remarked to you before starting out that people looking for trouble usually found it. I am thankful,” finished Lord Caterham with a slight shiver, “that I stayed quietly here.”
He picked up the catalogue again.
“Father, where is Seven Dials?”
“In the East End somewhere, I fancy. I have frequently observed buses going there—or do I mean Seven Sisters? I have never been there myself, I’m thankful to say. Just as well, because I don’t fancy it is the sort of spot I should like. And yet, curiously enough, I seem to have heard of it in some connection just lately.”
“You don’t know a Jimmy Thesiger, do you?”
Lord Caterham was now engrossed in his catalogue once more. He had made an effort to be intelligent on the subject of Seven Dials. This time he made hardly any effort at all.
“Thesiger,” he murmured vaguely. “Thesiger. One of the Yorkshire Thesigers?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Do attend, Father. This is important.”
Lord Caterham made a desperate effort to look intelligent without really having to give his mind to the matter.
“There are some Yorkshire Thesigers,” he said earnestly. “And unless I am mistaken some Devonshire Thesigers also. Your Great Aunt Selina married a Thesiger.”
“What good is that to me?” cried Bundle.