Lennox dried his back and rump carefully before he sat down. He poured black coffee and drank it as though it were poison hemlock. Cooper came in from the kitchen and appeared to be having a magic hour of his own, for he was wearing his chef's hat and a dinner jacket. Lennox stared at him.
"Black tie tonight, Scout Lennox," Cooper told him, removing the hat. "All out for the Christmas jamboree."
"What the hell, Sam?"
"Pull in your feet." Cooper poked at the logs with an old bayonet. "Must apologize, Sir Jasper. Only a cad would touch another man's hearth. They teach you that in Islip? Rules for Perfect Behaviour. Like passing the port to the left."
"They taught me nothing in Islip," Lennox growled. Nevertheless he filed this lesson away, until he caught the gleam in Cooper's eye. He squirmed a little. "What's this black tie routine? More Perfect Behaviour?"
"I'll tell you, son. There's no food in the house. So I thought we'd accept Alice McVeagh's invitation and free-load. She's giving a monster rally. A debutante party. Turkey, ham, chutney, kedgeree, boiled mutton, boiled guests, boiled debs—"
"Who's Alice McVeagh?"
"You'll like her. She always passes the port to the left. Gives Square parties. Strictly Square. Nobody in the business. A pleasant change."
"I'm staying home."
"Not a crust in the house, Jake."