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this evening, Alicia,” he said.
    Senor Delvalle glanced at me, flicked his cigarette case open and smiled faintly, as if he had a rather special secret joke. Of course charm is a curious word. It can mean an awful lot of things. And Lady Alicia Wrenn was a rather curious woman. In general she looked rather more like a horse than a woman, though I don’t know whether horses are ever near-sighted. Lady Alicia certainly was, or her rouge would have been on differently, and the dress she had on would have been in a Bundle for Britain to make gun-wadding out of. Yet there was something curiously fey about the quick, searching glance she gave each person she met.
    She shook hands vigorously with Sam Wharton. “Oh yes. You’re what you call a mugwump in this extraordin’ry country, aren’t you?”
    Sam looked a little dazed.
    “You mean a lame duck, darling,” Larry murmured.
    “Oh, is that so?” Lady Alicia said. “I want a spot of grog. And I don’t want one of your cocktails. I’ll have gin and tonic. And I’m starving. I hope we’ll eat shortly.”
    “So do all the rest of us,” Pete said politely. “It’s you we’ve been waiting for.”
    Lady Alicia was making the rounds, giving everybody’s hand a swift pump and saying “Howjado,” looking at everybody sharply. Ruth Sherwood had come over to the fireplace by me to press the bell.
    “She’d already left, Ruth, I think,” I whispered quickly. “The telegram was marked 12.05.”
    If I’d thought she’d turned pale as she faced Bliss Thatcher, I’d been wrong—not compared with the ashen draining of every ounce of blood from her face now. I thought she was going to faint. For a moment she just swayed there, trying desperately to get control of herself. Her back was to the rest of her guests. The others were listening to Lady Alicia and Kurt Hofmann.
    “You’ve forgot me, haven’t you?” she was saying, rather stridently, yet with some kind of odd undertone.
    “Never, madame.”
    He was bowing from the waist, her hand raised to his lips.
    “Your memory’s better than mine, then,” Lady Alicia said. “You’ve got fat and I’ve got thin. It was just after you’d had your duel, wasn’t it? You were putting salt in your wound to make it a handsome scar. Good thing for both of us my father snatched me back home. You wouldn’t have become famous and I wouldn’t have won the Derby.”
    “I should have been very happy, madame.”
    “Oh, well, it’s pleasant to look back on.”
    Ruth Sherwood had turned back to face them.
    “Gin and tonic for Lady Alicia,” she said to the butler. “Take it to the table—we’ll go in now.”
    I knew she wanted to get us to the dining room as quickly as she could. Once over there and seated, if the child came she could manage.
    “Shall we go in?” she said. She took Sam Wharton’s arm. She seemed to sway a little and steady herself against him. “I must be faint with hunger,” she said lightly.
    Senor Delvalle bowed and offered me his arm. “I should be happy for you to faint, Mrs. Latham,” he said with a smile.
    “I’m afraid I’m not the type,” I answered.
    Bliss Thatcher and Effie Wharton followed Ruth Sherwood and Sam. Lady Alicia and Kurt Hofmann went next. I fancied Mr. Hofmann for some reason looked a little uncomfortable. Lady Alicia for one thing was being frank to say the least about his former colleagues. Corliss Marshall and Sylvia behind them were listening, each with his own professional ears well-tuned. Pete Hamilton and Larry stood aside to let me and Senor Delvalle precede them. It hadn’t occurred to me until just then that there were more men than women present It seemed rather odd, with all the extra women around everywhere. Surely two female guests, I thought, had declined at the last moment.
    I looked up at Pete as I passed him. There was something more than a little strange about his expression. He was looking at Corliss Marshall’s back; his jaw was like a hard rim