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called Bundle in a clear, autocratic voice.
    The emperor approached. Something that might possibly have been taken for a smile of welcome tried to express itself on his countenance, but the natural gloom of gardeners dispelled it.
    â€œYour ladyship?” said MacDonald.
    â€œHow are you?” said Bundle.
    â€œI’m no verra grand,” said MacDonald.
    â€œI wanted to speak to you about the bowling green. It’s shockingly overgrown. Put someone on to it, will you?”
    MacDonald shook his head dubiously.
    â€œIt would mean taking William from the lower border, m’lady.”
    â€œDamn the lower border,” said Bundle. “Let him start at once. And MacDonald—”
    â€œYes, m’lady?”
    â€œLet’s have some of those grapes in from the far house. I know it’s the wrong time to cut them because it always is, but I want them all the same. See?”
    Bundle reentered the library.
    â€œSorry, Father,” she said. “I wanted to catch MacDonald. Were you speaking?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact I was,” said Lord Caterham. “But it doesn’t matter. What were you saying to MacDonald?”
    â€œTrying to cure him of thinking he’s God Almighty. But that’s an impossible task. I expect the Cootes have been bad for him. MacDonald wouldn’t care one hoot, or even two hoots, for the largest steamroller that ever was. What’s Lady Coote like?”
    Lord Caterham considered the question.
    â€œVery like my idea of Mrs. Siddons,” he said at last. “I should think she went in a lot for amateur theatricals. I gather she was very upset about the clock business.”
    â€œWhat clock business?”
    â€œTredwell has just been telling me. It seems the house party had some joke on. They bought a lot of alarum clocks and hid them about this young Wade’s room. And then, of course, the poor chap was dead. Which made the whole thing rather beastly.
    Bundle nodded.
    â€œTredwell told me something else rather odd about the clocks,” continued Lord Caterham, who was now quite enjoying himself. “It seems that somebody collected them all and put them in a row on the mantelpiece after the poor fellow was dead.”
    â€œWell, why not?” said Bundle.
    â€œI don’t see why not myself,” said Lord Caterham. “But apparently there was some fuss about it. No one would own up to having done it, you see. All the servants were questioned and swore they hadn’t touched the beastly things. In fact, it was rather a mystery. And then the coroner asked questions at the inquest, and you know how difficult it is to explain things to people of that class.”
    â€œPerfectly foul,” agreed Bundle.
    â€œOf course,” said Lord Caterham, “it’s very difficult to get the hang of things afterwards. I didn’t quite see the point of half the things Tredwell told me. By the way, Bundle, the fellow died in your room.”
    Bundle made a grimace.
    â€œWhy need people die in my room?” she asked with some indignation.
    â€œThat’s just what I’ve been saying,” said Lord Caterham, in triumph. “Inconsiderate. Everybody’s damned inconsiderate nowadays.”
    â€œNot that I mind,” said Bundle valiantly. “Why should I?”
    â€œI should,” said her father. “I should mind very much. I should dream things, you know—spectral hands and clanking chains.”
    â€œWell,” said Bundle. “Great Aunt Louisa died in your bed. I wonder you don’t see her spook hovering over you.”
    â€œI do sometimes,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering. “Especially after lobster.”
    â€œWell, thank heaven I’m not superstitious,” declared Bundle.
    Yet that evening, as she sat in front of her bedroom fire, a slim, pyjamaed figure, she found her thoughts reverting to that cheery, vacuous young man, Gerry Wade. Impossible to believe