It was indeed characteristic of Bundle to be in a hurry, especially when driving a car. She had skill and nerve and was a good driver, had it been otherwise her reckless pace would have ended in disaster more than once.

It was a crisp October day, with a blue sky and a dazzling sun. The sharp tang of the air brought the blood to Bundle’s cheeks and filled her with the zest of living.

She had that morning sent Gerald Wade’s unfinished letter to Loraine Wade at Deane Priory, enclosing a few explanatory lines.

The curious impression it had made upon her was somewhat dimmed in the daylight, yet it still struck her as needing explanation. She intended to get hold of Bill Eversleigh sometime and extract from him fuller details of the house-party which had ended so tragically. In the meantime, it was a lovely morning and she felt particularly well and the Hispano was running like a dream.