"No, my lord," he said firmly, "I do not think purple would be an improvement. Interesting—yes; but, if I may so express myself, decidedly less affable."
"Thank goodness," said his lordship, "I'm sure you're right. You always are. And it would have been a bore to get it changed now. You are sure you've removed all the newness, eh? Hate new clothes."
"Positive, my lord. I assure your lordship that the garments have every appearance of being several months old."
"Oh, all right. Well, give me the malacca with the foot-rule marked on it—and where's my lens?"
"Here, my lord," Bunter produced an innocent-looking monocle, which was, in reality, a powerful magnifier. "And the finger-print powder is in your lordship's right-hand coat-pocket."
"Thanks. Well, I think that's all. I'll go on now, and I want you to follow on with the doings in about an hour's time."
The Bellona Club is situated in Piccadilly, not many hundred yards west of Wimsey's own flat, which overlooks the Green Park. The commissionaire greeted him with a pleased smile.
"Mornin', Rogers, how are you?"
"Very well, my lord, I thank you."
"D'you know if Major Fentiman is in the Club, by the way?"