Issy Jago would skip into
"(Clerks)" and sit on the cistern till Mr. Brunger's bell summoned
him.
For the privilege of adding to the dignity of his single apartment by
having his name inscribed upon the cistern cupboard and upon the
emergency exit to the roof, Mr. Brunger paid thirty shillings extra
per annum.
III.
By half-past ten Mr. Brunger was occupied in composing an unsolicited
testimonial to be sent to the wife of a green-grocer in the Borough
who, on the previous day, had summoned her husband for assault at
Lambeth Police-Court.
"I had suspicions but no proof of my 'usband's infidelity," dictated
Mr. Brunger, pacing the floor, "until I enlisted your services. I must
say--"
At that moment the telephone bell rang. Mr. Brunger ceased dictation;
took up the receiver.
"Are you David Brunger, the private detective?" a voice asked.
"We are," replied Mr. Brunger in the thin treble he used on first
answering a call. "Who are you, please?"
"I am Mr. Christopher Marrapit of Herons' Holt, Paltley Hill, Surrey.
I--"
"One moment," piped Mr. Brunger. "Is it confidential business?"
"It is most urgent business. I--"
"One moment, please. In that case the private secretary must take your
message."
Mr. Brunger laid down the receiver; took a turn across the room;
approached the telephone; in a very deep bass asked, "Are you there?"
The frantic narrative that was poured into his ears he punctuated with
heavy, guttural "Certainly's," "Yes's," "We comprehend's," "We follow
you's.
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