’ She giggled suddenly. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. Prudence. . ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more like what you were then than you yourself are now. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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