“You know about it, of course. Why has there been nothing in the papers?”
“Do you really want to know that, Lady Eileen?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well, we just thought we should like to have a clear twenty-four hours—see? It will be in the papers tomorrow.”
“Oh!” Bundle studied him, puzzled.
What was hidden behind that immovable face? Did he regard the shooting of Ronald Devereux as an ordinary crime or as an extraordinary one?
“He mentioned Seven Dials when he was dying,” said Bundle slowly.
“Thank you,” said Battle. “I’ll make a note of that.”
He wrote a few words on the blotting pad in front of him.
Bundle started on another tack.
“ Mr. Lomax, I understand, came to see you yesterday about a threatening letter he had had.”
“He did.”
“And that was written from Seven Dials?”
“It had Seven Dials written at the top of it, I believe.”
Bundle felt as though she was battering hopelessly on a locked door.
“If you’ll let me advise you, Lady Eileen—”
“I know what you’re going to say.”