“Yes. She and Mike will know of course but it might be as well, Imogen, if you told them. The rest of you had better hear the whole story now. Unless Robin—”
Roberta said, “If it’s private of course—”
“Private! My dear child, it will be front-page news in every paper by to-morrow.”
“So it will!” Frid ejaculated. “I say, we ought to tell Nigel Bathgate. It’d be a lovely scoop for him, wouldn’t it?”
“I must say, Frid,” said Henry, “I think that a particularly mad suggestion of yours.”
“I don’t see why. As Daddy says, it will be in all the papers anyway so why not give Nigel a break? I daresay he’d fight off all the other press-men for us. Shall I ring him up, Mummy?”
“Not now, Frid. And yet I don’t know. Nigel might be a sort of protection, Charlie.”
“I really do not consider,” said Lord Charles with emphasis, “that one rings up young journalists, however charming, and tells them that one’s relations have been murderously assaulted! You none of you seem to realize…” He broke off and looked at Roberta who was still hovering doubtfully. “Robin, my dear, we have no secrets from you. I’m only so sorry that you should have been plunged into this nightmare. Stay by all means, if you will.”
“Don’t go away, Robin,” said Henry.
“No, don’t go,” said the others. So Roberta stayed.