"In my room. I took it up to bed with me. What has…' Amberley turned. "Get it, will you, Jenkins? Curiosities of Literature."
Lady Matthews sat down. "How delightfully mysterious," she said. "Why the book, my dear?"
"I rather think that it was the book that was wanted," replied Amberley. "I hope so anyway."
Jenkins came back, the book in his hand, and gave it to him. Amberley flicked over the leaves, shook it, peered down the back, carefully felt the thickness of the boards.
"Too thrilling!" murmured Lady Matthews.
But Amberley was looking puzzled. "I seem to be wrong," he said. "Yet somehow — I don't think I am." He glanced thoughtfully at his uncle. "I wonder."
"What do you wonder?" said Sir Humphrey. "Pray don't be obscure!"
"Whether anyone entered your room tonight," said Amberley.
Sir Humphrey, who like many others had an entirely erroneous belief that he was a light sleeper, was indignant. He was ready to swear that no one could possibly have entered his room without waking him.
His wife interposed. "Dear Frank, all most intriguing, but don't annoy your uncle."