Jimmy leant back in his chair. He thought rapidly and carefully. At last he spoke. His speech was brief and to the point.
“Something’s going to happen at that party,” he said.
“That’s what I think,” said Bundle.
“It all fits in,” said Jimmy almost dreamily.
He turned to Loraine.
“How old were you when the war was on?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Nine—no, eight.”
“And Gerry, I suppose, was about twenty. Most lads of twenty fought in the war. Gerry didn’t.”
“No,” said Loraine, after thinking a minute or two. “No, Gerry wasn’t a soldier. I don’t know why.”
“I can tell you why,” said Jimmy. “Or at least I can make a very shrewd guess. He was out of England from 1915 to 1918. I’ve taken the trouble to find that out. And nobody seems to know exactly where he was. I think he was in Germany.”
The colour rose in Loraine’s cheeks. She looked at Jimmy with admiration.
“How clever of you.”
“He spoke German well, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, like a native.”
“I’m sure I’m right. Listen, you two. Gerry Wade was at the Foreign Office. He appeared to be the same sort of amiable idiot—excuse the