“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks (her one expletive). “I do not understand you.”
Reggie arose and cut himself a large portion of cold beef.
“If this was a practical joke,” said the solemn voice of Faulks, “who struck me?”
“That was me, old thing,” Cosdon smiled upon him.
“But strictly speakin’,” said Reggie as he came back and took more toast, “that’s irrelevant.”
“Colonel Beach!” Mrs. Faulks commanded the wretched man’s attention, “what do you propose to do?”
“We shall have to have the police,” he groaned.
“Oh, yes, it’s a case for the police,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Have you a telegraph form, Colonel?”
“It’s all right, Fortune, thanks. I’ll telephone.”
“Yes, encourage local talent. But I would like to send a wire to Scotland Yard.”