"Don't you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit of sleuthing on his own?"
"Bill? He hasn't got the brains."
"I'm not so sure. When a simple, muscular person like Bill does set out to be subtle, no one ever gives him credit for it."
"And in consequence he can put in some good work. Yes, there's something in that. But all the same I'd never have thought it of Bill. He's doing the Countess's little woolly lamb to perfection. I think you're wrong, you know, Loraine. The Countess is an extraordinarily beautiful woman—not my type, of course," put in Mr. Thesiger hastily—"and old Bill has always had a heart like an hotel."
Loraine shook her head, unconvinced.
"Well," said Jimmy, "have it your own way. We seem to have more or less settled things. You go back with Bundle to Chimneys, and for Heavens' sake keep her from poking about in that Seven Dials place again. Heavens knows what will happen if she does."
Loraine nodded.
"And now," said Jimmy, "I think a few words with Lady Coote would be advisable."
Lady Coote was sitting on a garden seat doing wool-work. The subject was a disconsolate and somewhat misshapen young woman weeping over an urn.
Lady Coote made room for Jimmy by her side, and he promptly, being a tactful young man, admired her work.