Peter shrugged helplessly. “That’s the trouble,” he said moodily. “I can’t believe that Tom has a job. My original objection still stands. Why didn’t he get one earlier? On the other hand, he just isn’t the type to sponge off an old friend, no matter how close they once were.”
“But, Peter,” Peggy said with a trace of a smile, “you can’t eliminate everything. It’s got to be something.”
“I know, I know,” Peter said impatiently. “That’s the whole trouble. And where does it all fit in with this story of kings and queens and people living inside trunks?” He rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. “I feel like a dog that’s trying to chase his tail. I’m going round and round, but can’t quite catch it.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Peggy said suddenly. “How about combining the two possibilities?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose he is living with an old friend and has a job at the same time—like taking care of the friend’s place of business at night?”
Peter looked interested. “Say,” he said admiringly, “that sounds good. But what kind of business?”
“Something to do with—”
“Oh, no,” Peter groaned. “Not one-eyed giants, please.”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” Peggy insisted.