‘Your sister is staying with you?’ asked Merton eagerly.
‘Yes; but what on earth—’
‘I’ll tell you in the brougham. But you take a weight off my bosom! I am going to stay with you for a day or two; and now my reputation (or Mrs. Lumley’s) is safe. Your servants never saw Mrs. Lumley?’
‘Never,’ said Trevor.
‘All right! My portmanteau has her initials, S. M. L., and a crimson ticket; send a porter for it. Now take me to the brougham.’
Trevor offered his arm and carried the dressing-bag; the lady was led to his carriage. The portmanteau was recovered, and they drove away.
‘Give me a cigarette,’ said Merton, ‘and I’ll tell you all about it.’
He told Trevor all about it—except about the emu’s feathers.
‘But a male disguise would have done as well,’ said Trevor
‘Not a bit. It would not have suited what I have to do in town. I cannot tell you why. The affair is complex. I have to settle it, if I can, so that neither Logan nor any one else—except the body-snatcher and polite letter-writer—shall ever know how I managed it.’