"Better say nothing to your aunt and cousin," recommended Sir Humphrey. "Dear me, how very unpleasant! Murders at our very gates! I do not know what the world is coming to."
He was still tut-tutting when they presently joined Lady Matthews in the drawing room, and when his wife inquired mildly what had happened to disturb him his disclaimers were so earnest that she at once turned to Frank and told him that he had better make a clean breast of it.
Having a more correct opinion of his aunt's nerves than Sir Humphrey had, Frank made no bones about it.
"Horrid happenings, Aunt. I've been finding dc;id bodies. One, to be precise."
Lady Matthews displayed no particular alarm. "Good gracious, Frank; not here, I trust?"
"No, on the Pittingly Road. Someone's been murdered. Uncle thinks probably by bandits."
"Dear me!" said his aunt. "So mediaeval. On the Pittingly Road too. Such an improbable place to choose. My dear, did they give you anything to eat?"
"Yes, thanks; excellent dinner."
Sir Humphrey, always a Perfect Husband, patted his wife's hand soothingly. "You must not allow this to worry you, Marion."
"No, my dear, why should I? Very disagreeable for poor Frank though. I hope we haven't got a gang of desperate criminals near us. Terrible if one's own chauffeur turned out to be the leader of a sinister organisation."