CHAPTER VII

Lady Bendip, reclining in her evening bath, threw one wet knee over the other. Knocking the ashes from her cigarette into the silver tray in the little white table beside her tub, she took a long, meditative whiff. No, she didn't regret her offer to the Red Cross to look after two convalescent officers, nor was she disappointed in the two who had arrived at Bendip Towers the previous afternoon. Captain Rump, of course, would be worse than a total loss. The little fellow with the watery, blue eyes, the mudgy-smud…