“Never mind,” Alleyn interrupted. “Have you any idea why your uncle was angry?”
Nanny said: “I don’t think Michael ought to answer these questions without his parents say that he may.”
“O Nanny!” cried Mike in accents of extreme provocation. “You are!”
“Then we shall ask them to come in,” said Alleyn. “Bailey.” A figure stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the scrap-covered screen by Mike’s bed. “Will you give my compliments to his lordship and ask him if he would mind coming to the nursery?”
“Very good, sir.”
“Is he another detective?” asked Mike when Bailey had gone.
“He’s a finger-print expert.”
Mike suddenly gave a galvanic leap, ending in a luxurious writhe among the blankets. “I suppose he’s brought his insnufferlater,” he said.
“All his kit,” agreed Alleyn gravely. “What happened when you left the drawing-room?”
“Well, I went to the dining-room and talked to Robin. The others had gone out. And then Giggle came along and said he had to go because Uncle G. was yelling in the lift. So I went to the landing with Giggle and he went downstairs. When he’d gone Uncle G. yelled out for Aunt V. So I bunked into 26. Gosh, he did sound livid. Absolutely waxy. I bet I know why.”