'Precisely.'
'Precisely, sir. "Has taken place at Hythe between Mr. Owen Hugo, of Sloane Street, London, and Mrs. Camilla Tudor, widow of the late Mr. Francis Tudor."'
'You are the first to know, Simon.'
Simon bowed.
'May I respectfully venture to wish you every happiness, sir?' Simon pronounced at his most formal.
'No, you may not,' said Hugo. 'But you may shake hands with me.'
And he respectfully ventured to explain to Simon how, in the case of a man like himself, with three thousand five hundred tongues ever ready to wag about him, absolute secrecy had been the only policy.
'Telephone down to the refreshment department for Tortoni to come up to me instantly. I must order a dinner for two. My wife and her maid will be here in half an hour. I shall not want you—at any rate, before ten-thirty or so.'
'Yes, sir. And the maid?'
'What about the maid?'