For a second time Guy's face assumed a faint tinge of colour.
"One couldn't help feeling sorry for the child when one spoke to her," he said stiffly. "It appears to be no fault of her own that she has been put in this impossible position." He hesitated for a moment. "I hope to goodness, Tony," he added, "that you—you——"
Tony laughed softly. "It's quite all right," he said. "Don't be alarmed, Guy. My feelings towards Isabel are as innocent as the dawn." He glanced at the slim gold watch that he wore on his wrist, and then in a leisurely fashion got up from his chair. "I hate to break up this charming breakfast party," he said, "but I must be off. I am going to look up Isabel on my way to Aunt Fanny's. I want to see how many intruding strangers Bugg has murdered in the night."
Guy also rose to his feet.
"I say, Tony," he said. "Let us understand each other quite clearly. However you choose to look at it, this is an uncommonly serious business—and there are some very ugly possibilities in it. We can't afford to treat it as a joke—not if you really want to keep Isabel out of these people's hands."
Tony nodded his head. "I know that, Guy," he said. "I can't help my incurable light-heartedness, but I can assure you that Cousin Henry himself couldn't be more deadly serious about it than I am. I promise you faithfully I won't play the fool."
"Right you are," said Guy. "In that case you can count on me to the utmost."
It was about a quarter of an hour later when Tony pulled up the big Peugot outside Mrs. Spalding's, and climbing down from his seat pushed open the gate. As he did so the door of the house was opened in turn by Bugg, who presented a singularly spruce and animated appearance. His hair had evidently been brushed and brilliantined with extreme care, and he was wearing a tight-fitting black and white check suit that reminded one of a carefully made draught-board.
"Good-morning, Bugg," said Tony, as he came up the steps. "You look very beautiful."
Bugg saluted with a slightly embarrassed smile.