"No, I'm not. Peter's quite capable of looking after me - and after all, the last thing the Monk would do would be to waste time in shooting us for no reason at all. Consider it settled. When ought we to go down again?"
"Good girl!" Peter said, and went off to tell Charles.
The inspector saw Michael take Margaret's hand, and opened his eyes very wide indeed. He murmured something about going to speak to the sergeant, and withdrew.
"Margaret - I can't tell you what I think of your pluck, and your sportsmanship," Michael said.
She blushed charmingly. "If you're going down there - do you think I wouldn't want to - to be there too?" she asked.
For a moment he looked at her; then, without quite knowing how she got there, she found herself in his arms.
There was a loud cough in the doorway. "Don't mind me," Charles said. "Of course if I were tactful I should silently away. But I want my lunch, and Celia won't start till you come."
Both scarlet in the face, they fell apart. "Oh oh is it ready?" Margaret asked. "We're just coming. And — er - Chas!"
"Yes?"
"We - Michael and I - we're going to be married."