They had just started breakfast when Michael came in.
"Hullo!" Peter said. "Had breakfast?"
"Yes thanks, I had some at the Bell. How are you both feeling?"
"I've got a whacking great bump on my head, but otherwise we're all right. Sit down and have a second breakfast. Did you get back safely last night?"
"Yes, but only just in time," Michael answered, sitting beside Margaret. "Thanks, Mrs. Malcolm." He took the coffee-cup she had handed him. "Look here, the first thing I want to know…'
Charles, who had got up to carve some ham for him, turned. "I beg your pardon? I admit I'm not feeling at my best this morning, but it seemed to me that you said you wanted to know something."
"I do," Michael said brazenly.
Charles returned to his chair and sat down. "Someone else can go on carving," he said. "I'm not strong enough.
Moreover, I don't want to give him any of that peculiarly succulent ham now. A remark more calculated to provoke a peaceful man to homicide I've never yet heard."
"Sorry," Michael grinned. "But it's important. Did either you or your sister, Fortescue, get any idea of the Monk's identity?"