"That's young Herriard's blonde, isn't it? I've got a fancy to meet her."
"You won't get anything out of her, not to rely on," Colwall said, staring.
"Ah, but I've always had a weakness for blondes!" Hemingway said.
Inspector Colwall looked at him suspiciously, but could not bring himself to believe that the good man from Scotland Yard was being flippant. "Well, you may be right," he said. "I wouldn't set any store by what she says myself. But of course I've never gone in for your branch of the service. Never had a fancy for it. I daresay it comes easy to you chaps, but if I had to spend many evenings like I did last night I should go potty. You don't know what you're up against with that crowd, Inspector."
"That's all right," said Hemingway cheerfully. "As long as there's one blonde I've no complaints coming."
There were, unknown to him, two blondes now awaiting him at Lexham Manor, Mrs. Dean having arrived in a hired car at an alarmingly early hour.
None of the inmates of the house had, from their appearances, enjoyed unbroken rest during the night. Valerie, indeed, declared that she had not once closed her eyes; and even Stephen seemed more than usually morose. The party met at the breakfast-table. Joseph, who came in last of all, greeted the company with a tremulous smile, and said: "Alas, that I can't wish you all a merry Christmas! Yet it seems unfriendly, and sad, doesn't it, to let this day pass without one word to mark its character?"
There was no immediate response to this. Finally, Valerie said: "It doesn't seem like Christmas, somehow."
"Personally," said Roydon, "I set no store by worn-out customs."
"If anyone is going to church," said Maud, apparently deaf to this remark, "Ledbury is bringing the car round at twenty minutes to eleven."