"Sorry," I said under my breath, "but I am afraid Mrs. Bundercombe means to make trouble!"
Mr. Bundercombe looked at me with a gloriously blank expression. His manner was not without dignity.
"I regret to hear," he replied, "that any person by the name of Mrs. Bundercombe is looking for trouble. I scarcely see, however, how I am concerned in the matter. You have the advantage of me, sir!"
I stared at him and stooped a little lower.
"She's tearing mad!" I whispered. "You don't want a scene. Couldn't you make an excuse and slip away?"
Mr. Bundercombe frowned at me. He glanced at the young lady as though seeking for some explanation.
"Is this young gentleman known to you, Miss Blanche?" he inquired.
She set down her glass and shook her head.
"Never saw him before in my life!" she declared. "What's worrying him?"
"Hitherto," Mr. Bundercombe said, "my somewhat unusual personal appearance
has kept me from an adventure of this sort, but I clearly understand that
I am now being mistaken for some one else. Your references to a Mrs.
Bundercombe, sir, are Greek to me. My name is Parker—Mr. Joseph H.
Parker."