As for McTaggart, there was no difficulty in getting rid of him. All he desired was to be alone. He wandered off all solitary. Victoria Mosel, left with no one but Aunt Amelia, fled; and Aunt Amelia, once in her chair, was safe to remain there for the rest of the afternoon. Therefore was Marjorie safe to tell her father what should be done.
Her temper was at breaking point; she was in that mood when women will blame whatever is nearest at hand and most defenseless; and what more admirable butt than a widowed parent?
"Papa," she said, "there's only one thing to be done. You must get a detective! At once!"
"My dear child! My dear child!" said the shocked politician, all the traditions of the de Bohuns rising in his blood, "a detective at Paulings!"
"Oh, stuff and nonsense!" said the dutiful daughter. "I'm sick of all that. Considering the kind of people you do have in Paulings—gaol birds like Tommy, and that damned old fool Cousin Bill, who steals diamonds ..."
"Hush! My dear, hush!" begged the appalled and terrified Home Secretary. He had noticed an open door, and hurriedly shut it. "Besides which, apart from being overheard, really, one must not say such things!"
"Say what?" retorted Marjorie sharply. "Oh, papa, for Heaven's sake don't talk any more nonsense, but do get that detective!"
"I can hardly telephone on such a thing as that," hesitated the poor man weakly. "Everything I say over the telephone is known at the exchange. And we know what happened that time when they were paid by The Howl. As for letting one of the servants do it ..."
"Oh! Good heavens, papa!" said Marjorie. "Isn't there a car? Go up in the car! Tell Morden all about it."
"Morden can hold his tongue," mused de Bohun thoughtfully.