"I have been closeted with the manager," I explained. "It was one of the underwaiters--the little dark one who brought in the coffee. The temptation seems to have been too much for him. He confessed directly he was questioned. He has restored everything and I thought it best to have him simply turned off without any fuss. Here is your pig, Sir Blaydon; your pendant, Blanche; your brooch, Lady Enterdean. I am exceedingly sorry you should have had any anxiety--but all's well that ends well!" I wound up weakly. Every one was talking cheerfully. The great topic now was one of ethics: Had I acted properly in not charging the waiter? Fortunately some one discovered a little later that it was twelve o'clock and my little party broke up. CHAPTER VII--"ONE OF US" I was not altogether surprised to receive, on the following morning before I had finished breakfast, a visit from Reggie. "Cheero!" he said brightly as he seated himself in my easy-chair and tapped the end of one of my cigarettes upon the tablecloth. "I haven't been up so early for months, but I had to find you before you went out-- about these Bundercombes." "What about them?" "I want their address, of course," Reggie continued. "The mater wants to call this afternoon and I'm all for seeing Miss Bundercombe again. Ripping girl, isn't she?" "Then prepare yourself for a disappointment, my friend," I advised, glancing at the clock. "They left for Paris by the nine o'clock train this morning." Reggie stared at me blankly. "Gone already?" I nodded and invented a little difficulty with my coffee pot. "Theirs was only a flying visit," I explained. "I was lucky to get hold of them for my dinner." "I'm hanged if I understand this!" Reggie remarked, looking at me suspiciously. "Why, I spent the best part of three weeks with them in that Godforsaken hole out West, and they were as keen as mustard on my taking them round London. How long have they been here?" "Not long," I answered. "Sure you won't have some coffee?" Reggie ignored the invitation. "They've got my address and there are the directories," he continued. "The funny part of it is, too, that I heard from Mrs. Bundercombe a week or so ago, and she never said a word about any of them coming over." "They seem to have made their minds up all of a sudden," I explained. "They spoke of it as quite a flying trip." Reggie coughed and stared for a moment at the end of his boot. "Can't understand it at all!" he repeated. "Devilish queer thing, anyway! I say, Paul, you're sure it's all right, I suppose?" "All right? What do you mean?" "Between you and me," he went on--"don't give it away outside this room, you know--but there have been rumors going about concerning an American and his pretty daughter over here--regular wrong 'uns! They've been up to all sorts of tricks and only kept out of prison by a fluke." "You're not associating these people, whoever they may be, with Mr. and Miss Bundercombe?" I asked sternly.