"I ran into the lady in the corridor of the Savoy Hotel."
"Well! What did she say?"
"As far as I can remember, I said, 'I beg your pardon,' and she said, 'It doesn't matter,' or words to that effect."
"And then?" persisted the dancer.
Kettering shrugged his shoulders.
"And then—nothing. That was the end of the incident."
"I don't understand a word of what you are talking about," declared the dancer.
"Portrait of a lady with grey eyes," murmured Derek reflectively. "Just as well I am never likely to meet her again."
"Why?"
"She might bring me bad luck. Women do."