"That finishes him off, then," said Frank. "Does the objectionable Basil have - er - erratic habits?"
"Not that I am aware of, my dear."
Sir Humphrey laid down the paper. "Nowadays the papers contain nothing but sensational descriptions of most unpleasant crimes," he said severely. "Do you young people feel like bridge?"
Upon the following day Felicity, having shopping to do for her mother in Upper Nettlefold, decreed that Frank should accompany her. His suggestion that the expedition might be conducted by car was sternly contradicted. Wolf, said Felicity, must be taken for a walk.
Wolf was Felicity's Alsatian. When fetched from the stables he evinced his satisfaction by bounding round his mistress and barking madly for the first hundred yards of their walk. Exercising him was not, as Frank knew from experience, all joy, as he was not in the least amenable to discipline, had to be caught and held at the approach of any motor vehicle, and had a habit of plunging unadvisedly into quarrels with others of the canine race.
The narrow main street of the town was, as usual upon a weekday, crowded with cars whose owners had parked them there while they shopped. Wolf exchanged objurgations with an Airedale seated in a large touringcar and Felicity, her attention attracted towards the car, announced that it belonged to Tony Corkran. At that moment a slim, fair-haired girl in tweeds came out of the confectioner's with a young man at her heels.
"There is —Joan!" Felicity said and darted across the street.
Frank followed, basely deserting Wolf, who had obvious designs on a butcher's shop.
Felicity turned as he came up. "Oh, Frank, whatever do you think? Joan says their butler's been murdered! By the way, this is my cousin, Frank Amberley, Joan. He says he knows you, Mr. Corkran. I say, how thrilling about Dawson, though! How did it happen? Frightfully ghastly, of course," she added, as an afterthought.
"Your butler?" Frank said, released from Mr. Corkran's hearty handshake. "Oh!"