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wait for you in the other room,” Corridon said, and moved to the door. As he opened the door, he glanced over his shoulder. Mainworthy was staring after him. The girl had her back turned to him. He closed one eye in a heavy, jocular wink and went into the outer office.
    The girl joined him a minute or so later.
    “Shall we have a drink?” she asked.
    “Just what I was going to suggest.” He opened the outer office door and stood aside. She moved into the bar. He noticed how lightly and supply she walked: like a professional mannequin. Perhaps that was what she was, he thought.
    He asked her as she sat down at a low, round table in an isolated corner.
    “You walk so well, I wondered,” he said, excusing his question.
    The compliment pleased her.
    “I have done a little modelling, but I am too small to be taken seriously,” she told him, and went on to explain that she had been a dress designer in Vienna.
    Corridon nodded. So many people had changed their countries and professions since the war.
    “I guessed you were Austrian,” he said. “A refugee, of course?”
    She was a refugee because of her brother, she told him. He had been mixed up in politics and had been fortunate to escape from Vienna. He had been sentenced to death in his absence. Both of them were now naturalized, and intended to make England their permanent home.
    While she was talking, the barman came over and Corridon ordered champagne.
    “I am in a mood to celebrate,” he explained when he saw the surprised look on her face. “A beautiful woman and a good wine are the complements to each other. Are you happy in England?”
    Yes, she was happy, but her brother missed Vienna.
    “And what do you do?” Corridon asked.
    “I design clothes for Dumas in Bond Street, and my brother is a director of Better Travel, the travel agency in Mayfair Street.”
    The barman returned with the champagne in an ice bucket. Corridon examined both the cork and the label before tasting the wine. It was very good, and he paid the enormous price without a pang.
    He believed in setting the stage. That he should have had the fantastic luck to meet one of the organization so soon, put him in the mood to celebrate. But he was aware that this meeting could be too much of a coincidence, and he decided to move warily. Ritchie had warned him about these people. They may have been watching Milly’s flat and seen him with Rawlins. They may have followed him to the War Office. This apparent chance-meeting might easily be a trap.
    “As we seem in the mood for confidences,” Lorene said, as she watched Corridon pour the wine, “tell me what you do.”
    “I am a soldier of fortune,” Corridon said.
    “And what does that mean?”
    “A soldier of fortune is a man who hires himself out for profit, adventure, and pleasure,” Corridon said with a smile.
    “But surely there is little scope for such a profession?”
    “There’s not a great deal of scope, but I manage to keep myself fairly busy. When I work, I make enough money to see me over the quiet periods. I’m having a quiet period now, so I buy champagne and talk to you. What could be more pleasant . Salud !”
    They drank.
    “But I won’t be able to stay long,” she said regretfully. “I am expecting my brother. It is his birthday, and I promised to have dinner with him.”
    “That’s quite touching,” Corridon said, leaning back in his chair and examining her smooth, creamy skin that made him think of the lustre of pearls. “It is not usual to hear of a brother and sister keeping a date together. Hasn’t your brother any girl friends?”
    “No.” She made a little grimace. “He is very serious and has no time for girls. When he wishes to go out, he invites me.”
    “And you are not so serious, and have lots of men friends, and find your brother a little tiresome, although you are very fond of him?”
    “That’s it exactly,” she said, laughing. “I can see you are a judge of character.”
    “Perhaps I