“Whassamarrer?” Freddie demanded thickly. “What goes on?”
“We seem to have had a visitor,” said the Saint succinctly. “Did anybody come through your room?”
“Anybody come through my room? I dunno. No. I didn’t see anybody. Why should anybody come through my room?”
“To kiss you goodnight,” said the Saint tersely, and headed in the other direction.
There was no other movement on the verandah. He knocked briefly on the next door down, and opened it and switched on the light. The bed was rumpled but empty, and a shaft of light came through the communicating door. All the bedrooms seemed to have communicating doors, which either had its advantages or it didn’t. Simon went on into the next room. The bed in there had the covers pulled high up, and appeared to be occupied by a small quivering hippopotamus. He went up to it and tapped it on the most convenient bulge.
“Come on,” he said. “I just saw a mouse crawl in with you.”
There was a stifled squeal, and Esther’s head and shoulders and a little more jumped into view in the region of the pillow.
“Go away!” she yelped inarticulately. “I haven’t done anything—”
Then she recognised him, and stopped abruptly. She took a moment to straighten her dark hair. At the same time the other half of the baby hippopotamus struggled up beside her, revealing that it had a red-gold head and a snub nose.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Ginny. “Come on in. We’ll make room for you.”