"Your father," I assured her, "has never treated me with less confidence. Whatever he may be doing at present, he is doing, let me assure you, entirely on his own responsibility."
"Then I think, if you don't mind, please," she begged, "you must try and get him to take you into his confidence. Of course," she went on, watching idly a polo team canter into the field, "I do not wish you to feel that he is in any way a responsibility. On the other hand, it does seem so queer, Paul! He has taken to dressing most carefully and he leaves the house regularly every morning at ten o'clock."
"You've no clew at all as to what he does with himself?" I asked.
"None," she replied, "except that I never saw any one with such overmanicured nails as his. I never knew him to go to a manicurist in my life, but he is obviously going to one nearly every day now or he couldn't keep the polish on. If that helps in any way—"
"It might," I admitted with a sigh.
"There he is!" Eve exclaimed suddenly. "Coming toward us, too! Do please take this opportunity, Paul, and see if you can find out anything. You see, a week ago he seemed bored to tears, and now he has just that happy, contented expression which he wears all the time when he is really engaged in something outrageous. I will go and talk to your sister. I think she is over there with Captain Green."
Mr. Bundercombe greeted me heartily and at once directed my attention to a small tent where cool drinks were being served. I suffered him to lead me in that direction and placed myself in his hands as regards the selection of a suitable beverage. We found a small table and sat down. "Haven't seen much of you lately, sir," I began.
"Huh! That's because I don't spend three parts of my time in milliners' shops," Mr. Bundercombe replied.
"Where are you spending most of your time?" I asked, determined to take the bull by the horns.
Mr. Bundercombe set down his glass.