Alec sat abruptly up in bed as the door opened.
“That you, Roger?” he demanded.
“No, this is Jefferson,” Roger said, hastily shutting the door behind him. “And very nicely you’d have given things away if it had been, Alexander Watson. And you might try and moderate your voice a bit. The sound of a foghorn in the middle of the night is bound to make people wonder. Ready?”
Alec got out of bed and put on his dressing-gown.
“Right-ho.”
As quietly as possible they stole downstairs and into the morning room. Roger drew the thick curtains together carefully before switching on the light.
“Now for it!” he breathed excitedly, eyeing the crowded table with eagerness. “That little pile there I’ve already been through, so you needn’t bother about those.”
“Already?” Alec asked in surprise.
“Yes, in company with my excellent friend, Major Jefferson,” Roger grinned, and proceeded to explain what he had been doing.
“You’ve got some cheek,” Alec commented with a smile.