“In aid,” he read, “of an orphanage—the Police Orphanage.”
“We always take six tickets,” put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to seek her pocket.
“Mr. Bodery,” said Sidney, at this moment, “you have nothing to eat. Let me cut you some ham.”
He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
“I prefer to carve it myself,” he replied, proceeding to do so.
Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
“The London police are here already,” whispered Sidney; “shall I say anything about Vellacott?”
“No,” replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
“I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now.”
“Right,” replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.