I looked at him thoughtfully, but the old face gave nothing away, so I went into the lounge. It seemed a long, long time ago since I had last been here. I moved on to the terrace again, and looked expectantly up at the veranda where Serena had sat mourning for her loved one. No one was up there. I returned to the lounge, picked a comfortable chair and sat down. The day had been an exciting one. I felt very tired: probably nervous excitement, I told myself. I lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the Mexican saddle hanging on the wall. An enormous bowl of sweet peas filled the room with an overpowering scent that made me feel a little drowsy.
After a while, probably ten minutes, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Serena Dedrick came into the lounge. She was wearing a simple white-linen dress and a rose in her hair. There were dark smudges under her eyes and a drawn, hard look about her mouth. She looked steadily at me as I got to my feet, smiled without warmth, waved me back to the chair.
‘Don’t get up. Would you like a whisky and soda?’
‘Well, not just now, thank you. I wanted to see your father. Didn’t Wadlock tell you?’
She went over to a big cocktail cabinet and poured two whiskies. She gave me one, motioned to a box of cigarettes on the occasional table by my side and sat down opposite me.
‘My father went back to New York yesterday,’ she said, looking anywhere but at me. ‘What did you want to see him about?’
I sipped the whisky. It was Four Roses, and very good. I wondered why Wadlock hadn’t broken the news and saved her the trouble of seeing me. It occurred to me that perhaps she wanted to see me.
‘I wanted to ask him something, Mrs. Dedrick,’ I said, but as he isn’t here it doesn’t matter. Could I have his New York address?’
‘Is it so important?’