Chapter XXI
Mr. Isaacstein’s
Suit-case
AT ten o’clock that morning, Lord Caterham and his daughter were breakfasting. Bundle was looking very thoughtful.
“Father,” she said at last.
Lord Caterham, absorbed in The Times, did not reply.
“Father,” said Bundle again, more sharply.
Lord Caterham, torn from his interested perusal of forthcoming sales of rare books, looked up absent-mindedly.
“Eh?” he said. “Did you speak?”
“Yes. Who is it who’s had breakfast?”
She nodded towards a place that had evidently been occupied. The rest were all expectant.
“Oh, what’s-his-name.”
“Fat Iky?”
Bundle and her father had enough sympathy between them to comprehend each other’s somewhat misleading observations.
“That’s it.”
“Did I see you talking to the detective this morning before breakfast?”
Lord Caterham sighed.
“Yes, he buttonholed me in the hall. I do think the hours before breakfast should be sacred. I shall have to go abroad. The strain on my nerves——”
Bundle interrupted unceremoniously.
“What did he say?”
“Said every one who wanted to could clear out.”
“Well,” said Bundle, “that’s all right. That’s what you’ve been wanting.”
“I know. But he didn’t leave it at that. He went on to say that nevertheless he wanted me to ask every one to stay on.”
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