Getting hold of Bill presented few difficulties. Bundle motored up to town on the following morning--this time without adventures by the way--and rang him up. Bill responded with alacrity, and made various suggestions as to lunch, tea, dinner and dancing. All of which suggestions Bundle turned down as made. "In a day or two, I'll come and frivol with you, Bill. But for the moment I'm up on business." "Oh," said Bill. "What a beastly bore." "It's not that kind," said Bundle. "It's anything but boring. Bill, do you know anyone called Jimmy Thesiger." "Of course. So do you." "No, I don't," said Bundle. "Yes, you do. You must. Everyone knows old Jimmy." "Sorry," said Bundle. "Just for once I don't seem to be everyone." "Oh! but you must know Jimmy--pink-faced chap. Looks a bit of an ass. But really he's got as many brains as I have." "You don't say so," said Bundle. "He must feel a bit top heavy when he walks about." "Was that meant for sarcasm?" "It was a feeble effort at it. What does Jimmy Thesiger do?" "How do you mean, what does he do?" "Does being at the Foreign Office prevent you from understanding your native language?" "Oh! I see, you mean, has he got a job? No, he just tools around. Why should he do anything?" "In fact, more money than brains?" "Oh! I wouldn't say that. I told you just now that he had more brains than you'd think." Bundle was silent. She was feeling more and more doubtful. This gilded youth did not sound a very promising ally. And yet it was his name that had come first to the dying man's lips. Bill's voice chimed in suddenly with singular appropriateness. "Ronny always thought a lot of his brains. You know, Ronny Devereux. Thesiger was his greatest pal." "Ronny--" Bundle stopped, undecided. Clearly Bill knew nothing of the other's death. It occurred to Bundle for the first time that it was odd the morning papers had contained nothing of the tragedy. Surely it was the kind of spicy item of news that would never be passed over. There could be one explanation, and one explanation only. The police, for reasons of their own, were keeping the matter quiet. Bill's voice was continuing. "I haven't seen Ronny for an age--not since that week-end down at your place. You know, when poor old Gerry Wade passed out." He paused and then went on. "Rather a foul business that altogether. I expect you've heard about it. I say, Bundle--are you there still?" "Of course I'm here." "Well, you haven't said anything for an age. I began to think that you had gone away." "No, I was just thinking over something." Should she tell Bill of Ronny's death? She decided against it--it was not the sort of thing to be said over the telephone. But soon, very soon, she must have a meeting with Bill. In the meantime-- "Bill?" "Hullo." "I might dine with you to-morrow night." "Good, and we'll dance afterwards. I've got a lot to talk to you about. As a matter of fact I've been rather hard hit--the foulest luck--"