«Unbelievable, Wimsey — sort of thing makes one believe in heaven. But I want your yarn.»
«D'you mind if Bunter hears it, too? Invaluable man, Bunter — amazin' fellow with a camera. And the odd thing is, he's always on the spot when I want my bath or my boots. I don't know when he develops things — I believe he does 'em in his sleep. Bunter!»
«Yes, my lord.»
«Stop fiddling about in there, and get yourself the proper things to drink and join the merry throng.»
«Certainly, my lord.»
«Mr. Parker has a new trick: The Vanishing Financier. Absolutely no deception. Hey, presto, pass! and where is he? Will some gentleman from the audience kindly step upon the platform and inspect the cabinet? Thank you, sir. The quickness of the 'and deceives the heye.»
«I'm afraid mine isn't much of a story,» said Parker. «It's just one of those simple things that offer no handle. Sir Reuben Levy dined last night with three friends at the Ritz. After dinner the friends went to the theatre. He refused to go with them on account of an appointment. I haven't yet been able to trace the appointment, but anyhow, he returned home to his house — 9 Park Lane — at twelve o'clock.»
«Who saw him?»
«The cook, who had just gone up to bed, saw him on the doorstep and heard him let himself in. He walked upstairs, leaving his greatcoat on the hall peg and his umbrella in the stand — you remember how it rained last night. He undressed and went to bed. Next morning he wasn't there. That's all,» said Parker abruptly, with a wave of the hand.
«It isn't all, it isn't all. Daddy, go on, that's not half a story,» pleaded Lord Peter.