“‘I. Arbuthnot,’” Alison translated: “Arbuthnot Ismay.”
“Gracious!” Mrs. Ilkington squealed. “Isn’t that the real name of that odd creature who called himself Iff and pretended to be a Secret Service man?”
Staff nodded a glum assent.
“It’s plain enough,” Alison went on; “this Searle woman was in league with him—”
“I disagree with you,” said Staff.
“On what grounds?”
“I don’t believe that Miss Searle—”
“On what grounds?”
He shrugged, acknowledging his inability to explain.
“And what will you do?” interrupted Mrs. Ilkington.