Next day I looked in at the club, and found young Bingo in the smoking-room.
“Hallo, Bingo,” I said, toddling over to his corner full of bonhomie, for I was glad to see the chump, “How’s the boy?”
“Jogging along.”
“I saw your uncle yesterday.”
Young Bingo unleashed a grin that split his face in half.
“I know you did, you trifler. Well, sit down, old thing, and suck a bit of blood. How’s the prowling these days?”
“Good Lord! You weren’t there!”
“Yes, I was.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Yes, you did. But perhaps you didn’t recognise me in the shrubbery.”