"Second-floor window sill."
"Exactly how my aunt started," said Ronnie Fish.
"They found her sitting on the roof of the stables, playing the ukulele in a blue dressing gown. She said she was Boadicea. And she wasn't. That's the point, old boy," said Mr. Fish earnestly. "She wasn't. We must get you out of this as quickly as possible, or before you know where you are you'll find yourself being murdered in your bed. It's this living in the country that does it. Six consecutive months in the country is enough to sap the intellect of anyone. Looking for swallows' nests, was he?"
"So he said. And swallows don't nest in July. They nest in April."
Mr. Fish nodded.
"That's how I always heard the story," he agreed. "The whole thing looks very black to me, and the sooner you're safe out of this and in London, the better."
IV
At about the same moment, Mr. Carmody was in earnest conference with Mr. Molloy.
"That man you were telling me about," said Mr. Carmody. "That friend of yours who you said would help us."