"I know Mr. Thesiger," said Bundle, and she shook hands solemnly with Jimmy, whom she observed had parted his hair in the middle in the endeavour to add earnestness to his expression. "Look here," said Jimmy in a low hurried voice, as George temporarily withdrew. "You mustn't be angry, but I've told Bill about our little stunt." "Bill?" said Bundle, annoyed. "Well, after all," said Jimmy, "Bill is one of the lads, you know. Ronny was a pal of his and so was Gerry." "Oh! I know," said Bundle. "But you think it's a pity? Sorry." "Bill's all right, of course. It isn't that," said Bundle. "But he's--well, Bill's a born blunderer." "Not mentally very agile?" suggested Jimmy. "But you forget one thing--Bill's got a very hefty fist. And I've an idea that a hefty fist is going to come in handy." "Well, perhaps you're right. How did he take it?" "Well, he clutched his head a good bit, but--I mean the facts took some driving home. But by repeating the thing patiently in words of one syllable I at last got it into his thick head. And, naturally, he's with us to the death, as you might say." George reappeared suddenly. "I must make some introductions, Eileen. This is Sir Stanley Digby--Lady Eileen Brent. Mr. O'Rourke." The Air Minister was a little round man with a cheerful smile. Mr. O'Rourke, a tall young man with laughing blue eyes and a typical Irish face, greeted Bundle with enthusiasm. "And I thinking it was going to be a dull political party entirely," he murmured in an adroit whisper. "Hush," said Bundle. "I'm political--very political." "Sir Oswald and Lady Coote you know," continued George. "We've never actually met," said Bundle, smiling. She was mentally applauding her father's descriptive powers. Sir Oswald took her hand in an iron grip and she winced slightly. Lady Coote, after a somewhat mournful greeting, had turned to Jimmy Thesiger, and appeared to be registering something closely akin to pleasure. Despite his reprehensible habit of being late for breakfast, Lady Coote had a fondness for this amiable, pink-faced young man. His air of irrepressible good nature fascinated her. She had a motherly wish to cure him of his bad habits and form him into one of the world's workers. Whether, once formed, he would be as attractive was a question she had never asked herself. She began now to tell him of a very painful motor accident which had happened to one of her friends. "Mr. Bateman," said George briefly, as one who would pass on to better things. A serious, pale-faced young man bowed. "And now," continued George, "I must introduce you to Countess Radzky." Countess Radzky had been conversing with Mr. Bateman. Leaning very far back on a sofa, with her legs crossed in a daring manner, she was smoking a cigarette in an incredibly long turquoise-studded holder.