"Small place, London!" Mr. Bundercombe sighed. "Were you—er—alone?"
"I was with Eve," I replied; "but she did not see you and I did not mention the matter."
"My boy," Mr. Bundercombe decided, "I shall take you wholly into my confidence. I am engaged in a big affair!" My heart sank.
"I can only pray to Heaven," I said fervently, "that the dénouement of this affair will not take place within the next ten days."
"On the contrary," Mr. Bundercombe answered, leaning back in his chair and looking at me, with the flat of one hand laid on the table and the palm of the other on his left knee, "on the contrary," he repeated, "the dénouement is due to-morrow."
"Glad you didn't consider us," I observed gloomily.
Mr. Bundercombe smiled.
"I find myself in this last affair," he remarked airily, "occupying what I must confess, for me, is a somewhat peculiar position. I am on the side of the established authorities. I am in the cast-iron position of the man who falls into line with the law of the land. In other words, you behold in me, so far as regards this affair, respectability and rectitude personified. I may even choose to give our friend Mr. Cullen a leg up."
I was relieved to hear it and told him so.
"I presume," I said, "that Mademoiselle Blanche, of Bond Street, is identical with the young lady who talked to us at Stephano's the other night?"