“Yes, he was,” said Frid impatiently. “It’s no good trying to fob Patch off with a vague story, Daddy. Uncle G.’s been dotted one, Patch, and he’s dead.”
“Who dotted him one?” asked Patch, rubbing her hands slowly over her knees.
“It must have been someone—” Lord Charles waved his hand “ — some lunatic who wandered up here. A wandering lunatic. Obviously. Don’t think about it, Patch. The police will find out about it.”
“Golly, how thrilling,” said Patch. She had squatted down by Roberta, who could feel her quivering like a puppy. “Daddy,” she said, “I’ve thought of something.”
“What is it?” asked her father wearily.
“You’ll be able to get rid of the bum.”
“Be quiet, Patch,” said Henry. “You’re not to talk about the bum.”
“Why not?”
“Because I tell you.”
Patch looked impertinently at Henry. “O.K., Rune,” she said.