This remarkable utterance issuing from the conventional lips of Superintendent Battle quite took Bundle's breath away. "What was the hint you were going to give me," she asked at last. "You know Mr. Eversleigh, don't you?" "Know Bill? Why, of course. But what--" "I think Mr. Bill Eversleigh will be able to tell you all you want to know about Seven Dials." "Bill knows about it? _Bill?_" "I didn't say that. Not at all. But I think, being a quick-witted young lady, you'll get what you want from him. "And now," said Superintendent Battle firmly, "I'm not going to say another word." CHAPTER XI DINNER WITH BILL Bundle set out to keep her appointment with Bill on the following evening full of expectation. Bill greeted her with every sign of elation. "Bill really _is_ rather nice," thought Bundle to herself. "Just like a large, clumsy dog that wags its tail when it's pleased to see you." The large dog was uttering short staccato yelps of comment and information. "You look tremendously fit, Bundle. I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you. I've ordered oysters--you do like oysters, don't you? And how's everything? What did you want to go mouldering about abroad so long? Were you having a very gay time?" "No, deadly," said Bundle. "Perfectly foul. Old diseased colonels creeping about in the sun, and active, wizened spinsters running libraries and churches." "Give me England," said Bill. "I bar this foreign business--except Switzerland. Switzerland's all right. I'm thinking of going this Christmas. Why don't you come along?" "I'll think of it," said Bundle. "What have you been doing with yourself lately, Bill?" It was an incautious query. Bundle had merely made it out of politeness and as a preliminary to introducing her own topics of conversation. It was, however, the opening for which Bill had been waiting. "That's just what I've been wanting to tell you about. You're brainy, Bundle, and I want your advice. You know that musical show, 'Damn Your Eyes'?" "Yes." "Well, I'm going to tell you about one of the dirtiest pieces of work imaginable. My God! the theatrical crowd. There's a girl--a Yankee girl--a perfect stunner--" Bundle's heart sank. The grievances of Bill's lady friends were always interminable--they went on and on and there was no stemming them. "This girl, Babe St. Maur her name is--" "I wonder how she got that name?" said Bundle sarcastically. Bill replied literally. "She got it out of _Who's Who_. Opened it and jabbed her finger down on a page without looking. Pretty nifty, eh? Her real name's Goldschmidt or Abrameier--something quite impossible." "Oh! quite," agreed Bundle. "Well, Babe St. Maur is pretty smart. And she's got muscles. She was one of the eight girls who made the living bridge--" "Bill," said Bundle desperately, "I went to see Jimmy Thesiger yesterday morning."