"Bundle! Bundle! Why, I've never dared to ask Bundle to marry me because I knew she'd only laugh. And George--a disgusting wind-bag, an unscrupulous, hypocritical old hot-air merchant--a foul, poisonous self advertiser--" "Go on," said Lord Caterham. "I'm enjoying this." "My God!" said Bill simply and with feeling. "Look here, I must be off." "No, no, don't go. I'd much rather you stayed. Besides, you want to see Bundle." "Not now. This has driven everything else out of my head. You don't know where Jimmy Thesiger is by any chance? I believe he was staying with the Cootes. Is he there still?" "I think he went back to town yesterday. Bundle and Loraine were over there on Saturday. If you'll only wait--" But Bill shook his head energetically and rushed from the room. Lord Caterham tiptoed out into the hall, seized a hat and made a hurried exit by the side door. In the distance he observed Bill streaking down the drive in his car. "That young man will have an accident," he thought. Bill, however, reached London without any mischance, and proceeded to park his car in St. James's Square. Then he sought out Jimmy Thesiger's rooms. Jimmy was at home. "Hullo, Bill. I say, what's the matter? You don't look your usual bright little self." "I'm worried," said Bill. "I was worried anyway, and then something else turned up and gave me a jolt." "Oh!" said Jimmy. "How lucid. What's it all about? Can I do anything?" Bill did not reply. He sat staring at the carpet and looking so puzzled and uncomfortable that Jimmy felt his curiosity aroused. "Has anything very extraordinary occurred, William?" he asked gently. "Something damned odd. I can't make head or tail of it." "The Seven Dials business?" "Yes--the Seven Dials business. I got a letter this morning." "A letter? What sort of a letter?" "A letter from Ronny Devereux's executors." "Good Lord! After all this time!" "It seems he left instructions. If he was to die suddenly, a certain sealed envelope was to be sent to me exactly a fortnight after his death." "And they've sent it to you?" "Yes." "You've opened it?" "Yes." "Well--what did it say?" Bill turned a glance upon him, such a strange and uncertain one that Jimmy was startled. "Look here," he said. "Pull yourself together, old man. It seems to have knocked the wind out of you, whatever it is. Have a drink." He poured out a stiff whisky and soda and brought it over to Bill, who took it obediently. His face still bore the same dazed expression. "It's what's in the letter," he said. "I simply can't believe it, that's all." "Oh, nonsense," said Jimmy. "You must get into the habit of believing six impossible things before breakfast. I do it regularly. Now then, let's hear all about it. Wait a minute." He went outside. "Stevens?" "Yes, sir." "Just go out and get me some cigarettes, will you? I've run out." "Very good, sir."