At that moment the door opened and a tall, thin man with white hair came in. Frank got up. "Evening, Uncle."

Sir Humphrey shook hands. "Well, Frank? I've only just heard that you'd arrived. What kept you?"

"Felicity, sir. She told me a short way from town. It wasn't."

"So the great Mr. Amberley got lost! The mighty are fallen, Frank."

"Fraid so, sir."

"The whole truth is, he didn't start in time," said Felicity indignantly. "And it's no use saying you were busy, Frank, because I know quite well you're - what is it barristers get into in the summer, Daddy? Recess, or something. I say, Daddy, he says he knows Joan's young man."

Sir Humphrey, observing that his nephew had come to the end of his repast, pushed the port decanter towards him. "Indeed? A singularly brainless young man, one would be led to infer, but I believe of excellent family. These fancy-dress festivities, I understood, are to celebrate the engagement. Felicity is very friendly with Miss Fountain."

It was apparent to Mr. Amberley that the friendship did not meet with Sir Humphrey's whole-hearted approval. He searched his brain for data concerning the Fountains and found it void.

Felicity was called away to the telephone. Frank cracked and peeled a nut. "That wasn't entirely true."

"What was not entirely true?" inquired Sir Humphrey, refilling his glass.

"Oh - my losing my way. I did, but not for an hour. I stumbled on a murder."

"God bless my soul!" ejaculated Sir Humphrey, feeling for his pince-nez. He fixed them on his bony nose and regarded his nephew in great astonishment. "Who's been murdered?"

"I've no idea. Middle-aged man respectably dressed. Couldn't place him. Might have been a tradesman. Something like that. He was in an Austin Seven on the Pittingly Road."

"Tut, tut, tut!" said Sir Humphrey, much perturbed. "Shocking! Shocking! No doubt a case of these road bandits."