Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, who was shunned by many because of his inveterate habit of quoting from his public speeches in private. In allusion to his bulging eyeballs, he was known to many—Bill Eversleigh among others—as Codders.
“Tell me,” she said, “was Codders interested at all in Gerald Wade’s death?”
“Not that I ever heard of. He may have been, of course.”
Bundle said nothing for some minutes. She was busily engaged in trying to remember the exact wording of the letter she had sent on to Loraine Wade, and at the same time she was trying to picture the girl to whom it had been written. What sort of a girl was this to whom, apparently, Gerald Wade was so devoted?
The more she thought over it, the more it seemed to her that it was an unusual letter for a brother to write.
“Did you say the Wade girl was Gerry’s half-sister?” she asked suddenly.
“Well, of course, strictly speaking, I suppose she isn’t—wasn’t, I mean—his sister at all.”
“But her name’s Wade?”
“Not really. She wasn’t old Wade’s child. As I was saying, he ran away with his second wife, who was married to a perfect blackguard. I suppose the Courts gave the rascally husband the custody of the child, but he certainly didn’t avail himself of the privilege. Old Wade got very fond of the child and insisted that she should he called by his name.”
“I see,” said Bundle. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”