"Nothing serious—at any rate, that I know of," Mr. Cullen assured me. "For the last fortnight—ever since Mrs. Bundercombe's arrival, in fact— Mr. Bundercombe has somehow or other managed to keep away from all his old associates and out of any sort of mischief. Last night, however, I was out on duty—I haven't had time to go home and change my clothes yet—in a pretty bad part, shadowing one of the most dangerous swell mobsmen in Europe—a man you may have heard of, sir. He is commonly known as Dagger Rodwell."
I hastily disclaimed any acquaintance with the person in question.
"Tell me, though," I begged, "what this has to do with Mr. Bundercombe?"
"Just this," Mr. Cullen explained: "I ran my man to ground in a place where I wouldn't be seen except professionally—and with him was Mr. Bundercombe."
"They were not engaged," I asked quickly, "in any lawbreaking escapade at the time, I trust!"
Mr. Cullen shook his head reassuringly.
"Rodwell only goes in for the very big coups," he said. "Two or three in a lifetime, if he brought them off, would be enough for him. All the same there's something planning now and he's fairly got hold of Mr. Bundercombe. He's a smooth-tongued rascal—absolutely a gentleman to look at and speak to. What I want you to do, sir, if you're sufficiently interested, is to take Mr. Bundercombe away for a time."
"Interested!" I groaned. "He'll be my father-in-law in a couple of months."
"Then if you want him to attend the ceremony, sir," Mr. Cullen advised earnestly, "you'll get him out of London. He's restless. You may have noticed that yourself. He's spoiling for an adventure, and Dagger Rodwell is just the man to make use of him and then leave him high and dry—the booby for us to save our bacon with. I don't wish any harm to Mr. Bundercombe, sir—and that's straight! Until the day I met Mrs. Bundercombe at Liverpool I am free to confess that I was feeling sore against him. To-day that's all wiped out. We had a pleasant little time at the Ritz that afternoon, and my opinion of the gentleman is that he's the right sort, I'm here to give you the office, sir, to get him away from London—and get him away quick. I may know a trifle more than I've told you, or I may not; but you'll take my advice if you want to escape trouble."
"I'll do what I can," I assured him a little blankly. "To tell you the truth I have been fearing something of this sort. During the last few days especially his daughter tells me he has been making all sorts of excuses to get away. I'll do what I can—and many thanks, Mr. Cullen. Let me offer you something."