cried Daisy, in an awe-struck voice. "There’d be a how-to-do!"
"There may be something in the notion," said her father thoughtfully. "After all, the monster must be somewhere. This very minute he must be somewhere a-hiding of himself."
"Of course he’s somewhere," said Mrs. Bunting scornfully.
She had just heard Mr. Sleuth moving overhead. ’Twould soon be time for the lodger’s supper.
She hurried on: "But what I do say is that—that—he has nothing to do with the West End. Why, they say it’s a sailor from the Docks—that’s a good bit more likely, I take it. But there, I’m fair sick of the whole subject! We talk of nothing else in this house. The Avenger this—The Avenger that"
"I expect Joe has something to tell us new to-night," said Bunting cheerfully. "Well, Joe, is there anything new?"
"I say, father, just listen to this!" Daisy broke in excitedly. She read out:
"Bloodhounds to be Seriously Considered"
"Bloodhounds?" repeated Mrs. Bunting, and there was terror in her tone. "Why bloodhounds? That do seem to me a most horrible idea!"
Bunting looked across at her, mildly astonished. "Why, ’twould be a very good idea, if ’twas possible to have bloodhounds in a town. But, there, how can that be done in London, full of butchers’ shops, to say nothing of slaughter-yards and other places o’ that sort?"
