Small wonder that I slept ill and fitfully.

Early as I was, the others were already at breakfast when I came down. 
Only Adele had not appeared.

It was a melancholy meal.

Jonah said not a word, and Berry hardly opened his mouth.  There were dark rings under Jill’s grey eyes, and Daphne looked pale and tired.

A communication from the Secretary of the Brooch Dog Show, enclosing a pass for the following day, and informing me that my Sealyham must arrive at the Show in the charge of not more than one attendant by 11 a.m., did not tend to revive our drooping spirits.  We had nearly finished, when, with a glance at the clock, my sister set her foot upon the bell.

As the butler entered the room—­

“Send up and see if Miss Feste will breakfast upstairs, Falcon.  I think——­”

“Miss Feste has breakfasted, madam.”

“Already?”

“Yes, madam.  Her breakfast was taken to her before eight o’clock.”

“Where is she?”

“I think she’s out bicycling, madam.”

“Bicycling?”

The inquiry leapt from five mouths simultaneously.

“Yes, madam.  She sent for me and asked if I could find ’er a lady’s bicycle, an’ Greenaway was very ’appy to lend ’er ‘ers, madam.  An’ Fitch pumped up the tires, an’ she went off about ’alf-past eight, madam.”

We stared at one another in bewilderment.

“Did she say where she was going?” said Berry.

“No, sir.”

“All right, Falcon.”

The butler bowed and withdrew.

Amid the chorus of astonished exclamation, Berry held up his hand.

“It’s very simple,” he said.  “She’s unhinged.”

“Rubbish,” said his wife.

“The disappearance of Nobby, followed by the loss of her necklace, has preyed upon her mind.  Regardless alike of my feelings and of the canons of good taste, she rises at an hour which is almost blasphemous and goes forth unreasonably to indulge in the most hellish form of exercise ever invented.  What further evidence do we need?  By this time she has probably detached the lamp from the velocipede and is walking about, saying she’s Florence Nightingale.”

“Idiot,” said Daphne.

“Not yet,” said her husband, “but I can feel it coming on.”  He cast an eye downward and shivered.  “I feared as much.  My left leg is all unbuttoned.”

“For goodness’ sake,” said his wife, “don’t sit there drivelling——­”

“Sorry,” said Berry, “but I haven’t got a clean bib left.  This laundry strike——­”

“I said ‘drivelling,’ not ‘dribbling.’  You know I did.  And what are we wasting time for?  Let’s do something—­anything.”

“Right-oh,” said her husband.  “What about giving the bread some birds?” And with that he picked up a loaf and deliberately pitched it out of the window on to the terrace.

The fact that the casement was not open until after the cast, made his behaviour the more outrageous.