"As houses. I can't be," Gerald answered, and wondered that the
question came from Mabel and not from Kathleen, who was
usually inclined to fuss a little annoyingly about the danger and
folly of adventures.

But all Kathleen said was, "Well, good-bye; we'll come and see
you tomorrow, Mabel. The floral temple at half-past ten. I hope
you won't get into an awful row about the motor-car lady."

"Let's detect our supper now," said Jimmy.

"All right," said Gerald a little bitterly. It is hard to enter on an
adventure like this and to find the sympathetic interest of years
suddenly cut off at the meter, as it were. Gerald felt that he ought,
at a time like this, to have been the centre of interest. And he
wasn't. They could actually talk about supper. Well, let them. He
didn't care! He spoke with sharp sternness: "Leave the pantry
window undone for me to get in by when I've done my detecting.
Come on, Mabel." He caught her hand. "Bags I the buns, though,"
he added, by a happy afterthought, and snatching the bag, pressed
it on Mabel, and the sound of four boots echoed on the pavement
of the High Street as the outlines of the running Mabel grew small
with distance.

Mademoiselle was in the drawing-room. She was sitting by the
window in the waning light reading letters.

"Ah, vous voici!" she said unintelligibly. "You are again late; and
my little Gerald, where is he?"