"
"I leave you to imagine," wrote Waldo in the course of a long letter to
his mother, "how much sleep I was able to recover that night, and you
know how essential nine uninterrupted hours of slumber are to my health."
On the other hand he was able to devote some wakeful hours to exercises
in breathing wrath and fury against Bertie van Tahn.
Breakfast at Blonzecourt was a scattered meal, on the "come when you
please" principle, but the house-party was supposed to gather in full
strength at lunch. On the day after the "Game" had been started there
were, however, some notable absentees. Waldo Plubley, for instance, was
reported to be nursing a headache. A large breakfast and an "A.B.C." had
been taken up to his room, but he had made no appearance in the flesh.
"I expect he's playing up to some character," said Vera Durmot; "isn't
there a thing of Moliere's, '_Le Malade Imaginaire_'? I expect he's
that."
Eight or nine lists came out, and were duly pencilled with the
suggestion.
"And where are the Klammersteins?" asked Lady Blonze; "they're usually so
punctual."
"Another character pose, perhaps," said Bertie van Tahn; "'the Lost Ten
Tribes.'"
"But there are only three of them. Besides, they'll want their lunch.
Hasn't anyone seen anything of them?"
"Didn't you take them out in your car?" asked Blanche Boveal, addressing
herself to Cyril Skatterly.
"Yes, took them out to Slogberry Moor immediately after breakfast. Miss
Durmot came too.
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