"You were quick-witted, Walmsley," he admitted as we rolled away in the car, "quick-witted, I'll admit that; but you were dead clumsy with your fingers! I could see what you were doing from the back of my head."
"Really!" I murmured. "Well, I suppose that sort of thing is a gift. I only know that I hope I may never have to do it again."
Mr. Parker sighed.
"I fear," he said, "that your troubles with us will soon be over. Eve has been telling me about that young idiot of an Englishman who visited the Bundercombes out in Okata. If there was one man whose name I thought I was safe to make use of it was Joe Bundercombe!"
"It seems," I admitted, "to have been an unfortunate choice. What do you think of doing about it?"
Mr. Parker apparently had no immediate answer ready for me. During our brief ride in the motor and in the early stages of supper he was afflicted by a taciturnity that made him almost negligible as a companion. And then suddenly a light broke over his face. He had the appearance of a shipwrecked mariner who suddenly catches sight of land in the offing. His lips were a little parted, his boyish face all aglow.
"Walmsley, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "Eve, dear! The problem is
solved! Raise your glasses and drink with me. Here's farewell to Mr.
Joseph H. Parker and Miss Parker. And a welcome to Mr. and Miss
Bundercombe, of Okata!"
"That's all very well," I said; "but Reggie will be on your track."
Mr. Parker beamed on Eve and me.
"We shall see!" he declared didactically.