For a moment Sir William seemed about to stretch out his hand, as General Mason took the hat from Dr Fell and passed it across. Then he sat rigid.
`You'll have to excuse me,' he said through his teeth. `I — sorry, but I can't do it.'
`Well, well, it's of no consequence,' Dr Fell said, genially. He took back the hat, pressed it down so that it collapsed, and fanned his ruddy face with it. `Not for the moment, anyhow. Who are your hatters?'
`Steele's, in Regent,' Street. Why?'
'Mrs Lester Bitton,'' said a voice at the door. The warder on guard pushed it open.
Mrs Bitton was not backward. She came into the room with an assurance which betokened a free stride, and she radiated energy. Mrs Bitton was a slim woman in the late twenties, with a sturdy, well-shaped figure like a swimmer's. She had level, rather shining brown eyes, a straight nose, and a humorous but determined mouth. Her light-brown hair was caught under the tilt of a tight blue hat; beneath a broad fur collar the tight-fitting coat showed off her full breasts and rather voluptuous hips..:. As she caught sight of Sir William she became less assured.
'Hallo!' she said. The voice was quick and self-determined. 'Bob didn't tell me you were here. I'm sorry you got here so soon.'
Sir William performed the introductions. Rampole set out a chair for her beside Hadley's desk.
'So you're Mr Hadley,' she observed, studying him with her bead slightly back. Then she looked at Sir William. `I've heard Will speak of you.' She made a cool inspection of everybody in the room, finally craning round the better to see Dr Fell. `And these are your inspectors or something. I'm afraid I kicked up rather a row across the way. But then I didn't know. Even when Bob told me… told me it was Phil, I didn't believe him.'
Despite her assurance Rampole got a definite impression that she was nervous.