"It's no catch," protested Bolsover, "but the solid truth. They found in one of her trunks a German service-rifle and a quantity of ammunition."
"Never!" I exclaimed.
"Only once," retorted Bolsover. "She's now in a Concentration Camp near Hendon."
I thought no more about the matter until midway through lunch. We were waiting for the soufflé when—
"Have you heard that story about a German?" Uncle Jasper and I began simultaneously.
"After you, Uncle," I said dutifully. "What were you going to say?"
"I was about to ask you if you had heard the story of the Polworths' governess," he said.
"No," I answered. "Tell me. You refer to the Polworths of Croydon?"
"Exactly. Well, they—or rather some friends of theirs named Culverton, living at Purley—had a German governess who had been in the family for some years. A night or two ago the police——"
But I needn't repeat it. In all essentials it was Bolsover's story over again, the only differences being that they found three bombs and that the governess was incarcerated at Horsham.