I had actually reached the foot of the staircase when a sound from outside pulled me up short. It was the unmistakable clang of the garden gate, and, hurrying towards the verandah, I saw to my delight a sturdy figure in naval uniform advancing across the grass.
With a joyous shout I flung back the window and stepped forward to meet him.
"This is splendid, Bobby," I said. "You're just in time for breakfast."
He came up to me, grinning cheerfully, and wrung my hand in a double-fisted grip.
"I'm glad to hear it, my lad," he said, "and I'm still more glad to see you looking so devilish well. After your alarming note I expected to find nothing but a nasty mess on the carpet."
"You were always an optimist," I remarked. "Come along inside and make yourself useful. You can attend to the tea while I run upstairs and have a wash and shave."
He followed me over the threshold, and, tossing his cap on to the sofa, established himself in a comfortable position in front of the fire.
"Where's that sunny-faced butler of yours?" he enquired. "Doesn't he like early rising?"
"For the time being," I replied, "Bascomb is off the map. You shall hear everything if you'll wait a minute, but it's a long yarn, and I don't want to start telling you in bits and pieces."
"Right you are," he drawled. "You bung along off and wash your face. I'll look after the kettle and answer the front door."