Then Lady Bellingdown wished that he hadn't. It was positively awful! Everybody looked at everybody in furtive consternation. Her hand trembled and she spilled Carleigh's tea all over.
He had risen in expectation of nourishment and was standing beside her. With a frozen smile, as she changed saucers, she gasped:
"Nina is here. You remember her, don't you? She's a widow now, you know. Very sweet, very bright. Extremely good company."
"Was she happily married?" Caryll asked, trying to look unconcerned.
"Why—er-r—I don't know. They went out to India, and he was killed in an accident. Cleaning a gun, you know. It was never very clear how it happened. Nobody ever knew. She's in half-mourning still."
"They were not happy," contributed Kneedrock in his resounding undertone. Then he lounged close. "I know," he added sharply. "She's a tiger come human, and Darling was her prey—some of her prey."
Lady Bellingdown was trying to laugh, though not very successfully. "What awful things you say, Nibbetts!" she sighed.
Carleigh stared in silence.
"It's true," the viscount pursued. "She's a reincarnated man-eater. She likes to take chaps and tear them and maul them and drive the souls out of them with pats that they're too far gone to feel!"
Every one was listening. Carleigh's pallor had gone white as paper. But it was the whiteness of intense interest rather than of alarm.