Bates, somewhat relieved by the departure of the emissaries of
Scotland Yard, recalled his master's scattered wits to the affairs of
the moment.

"It's getting on for seven, sir," he said. "I've engaged a dressing
room."

"Tell you what, Bates," said Theydon abstractedly, "it is my fixed
belief that you and I could do with a brandy and soda apiece."

"That would be a good idea, sir."

The good idea was duly acted on. While Theydon was dressing Bates told
him what little he knew of the tragedy, which was discovered by Mrs.
Lester's maid when she brought a cup of tea to her mistress' bedroom
at ten o'clock that morning.

Bates himself was the first person appealed to by the distracted
woman, and he had the good sense to leave the body and its
surroundings untouched until a doctor and the police had been summoned
by telephone. Thenceforth the day had passed in a whirl of excitement,
active in respect to police inquiries and passive in its resistance to
newspaper interviewers. He saw no valid reason why his employer's
plans should be disturbed, so made no effort to communicate with him
at Brooklands.

"Them 'tecs were very pressin', sir," said Bates, rather indignantly,
"very pressin', especially the little one. He almost wanted to know
what we had for breakfast."