Sharpless hesitated, so Courtney prodded again.
"How far has the affair gone?"
"It hasn't gone anywhere yet. Hang it, I haven't even got any reason to suppose she cares two pins for me!" Sharpless brooded."And yet I do know, too. It was last week. At a damn concert in the Promenade. They were playing Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes … if you laugh I'll murder you!"
Courtney showed no disposition to laugh. After surveying him narrowly* with defiant embarrassment, Sharpless stared hard at the contents of his tankard and spoke in a muttering voice.
"She doesn't love the swine Fane. That I do know. Not that they don't put up a good front! This Dr. Rich may be hot stuff as a psychologist, but he can't see psychology when it's under his nose. I rode part of the way home with him on the bus last night. And he kept saying what an ideal couple the Fanes were, and how pleasant it was to see such things in this age of divorce, until I could have landed him one."
"H'm."
"But when I say there's something funny going on there, I don't mean that, exactly. I mean something else that's queer. And I'm not looking forward to tonight. I wish you could come along."
"I'd like to. But I've got a nine o'clock appointment with Sir Henry Merrivale."
Sharpless moved his shoulders.
"Well?" he said. "You've heard about it now. What's your advice?"