Dr. Fell, who was chuckling in the tonneau, lifted his stick in a salute. Thank you, my dear. And I’m naturally pleased to meet you both. You see—"
"Hold on a bit!" Donovan interrupted with pardonable rudeness. "You are the creator of John Zed, diplomatist-detective?"
"Um."
Another question, which could not be kept down despite his father's eye, boiled to the surface. He pointed to the glass in the other's hand and demanded: "Martinis?"
Morgan brightened eagerly.
"And how!" agreed the creator of John Zed, diplomatist-detective. "Have one?"
"Hugh!" interposed the bishop in a voice that could quell the most rebellious chapter, dean and all. "We do not wish to take up your time, Mr. Morgan. Doubtless all of us have more important matters to which we can attend." He paused, and his furry brows drew together. "I hope I shall not be misunderstood, my friend, if I add that in the solemn presence of death your attitude seems to me to be somewhat reprehensibly irreverent. Start the car, Standish."
"Sorry, sir," said Morgan, looking at him meekly over his spectacles. "I mean to say — sorry. Not for a moment would I in my irreverence stay your headlong rush to get at the corpse. All I wanted to tell you was—"
"Don't you mind him, bishop," said Madeleine warmly. "Don't you mind him. You can slide down our bannisters as much as you like, and nobody shall stop you. There! Fll even get a big cushion for you to land on, though I expect," she added, scrutinizing him with a thoughtful air, "you won't need it much, will you?"
"Angel sweetheart," said Morgan dispassionately, "shut your trap. What I was about to say was—"