"Yes," said Bundle. "If it hadn't been for your friend Ronny, I don't suppose I should ever have got what you call 'mixed up' in this thing. But I am. And it's no earthly use your bleating about it."
"I know you're the most frightful sport, Bundle, but—"
"Cut out the compliments. Let's make plans."
To her relief, Bill reacted favourably to the suggestion.
"You're right about the formula," he said. "Eberhard's got some sort of formula with him, or rather Sir Oswald has. The stuff has been tested out at his works—very secretly and all that. Eberhard has been down there with him. They're all in the study now—what you might call coming down to brass tacks."
"How long is Sir Stanley Digby staying?" asked Jimmy.
"Going back to town to-morrow."
"H'm," said Jimmy. "Then one thing's quite clear. If, as I suppose, Sir Stanley will be taking the formula with him, any funny business there's going to be will be to-night."
"I suppose it will."
"Not a doubt of it. That narrows the thing down very comfortably. But the bright lads will have to be their very brightest. We must come down to details. First of all, where will the sacred formula be to-night? Will Eberhard have it, or Sir Oswald Coote?"