They stepped into a well-furnished hall. The floorboards gleamed, the big brass tray on ebony trestles glittered, and the thick rug on which they stood tickled their ankles.
“This is George,” Cora said, waving her hand carelessly in George’s direction. “I want Ernie.”
The young woman smiled at George. She had big, strong white teeth. “I’m Eva,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. And what a mess you’re in! But don’t stand there, come in, come in.”
She took them down a passage and threw open a door. “Look, my precious, what’s blown in,” she called.
Little Ernie glanced tip. He was lying in a big armchair, his small feet up on a padded stool. He looked completely out of place in the lavishly furnished room.
George had never seen such a room. It was too big, the ceiling was too high, and the white carpet that went from wall to wall looked like a fresh fall of snow. The ivory furniture had chromium on it, and the enormous scarlet drapes hung from the tops of the high windows and tumbled on to the white carpet. Four big white suede armchairs stood about the room. A vast cocktail cabinet, filled with dozens of bottles of every conceivable drink, stood by the window.
If he had been told that he had strayed into Buckingham Palace, he would have believed it. The room was exactly his idea of a Queen’s boudoir.
Little Ernie scrambled to his feet. His eyes gleamed with sudden excitement and eagerness.
“For cryin’ out loud!” he exclaimed. “Cora, my ducks, and me old pal, George. Well, well, fancy you coming ’ere.” He turned to Eva. ” ’Ere, get ’er cleaned up, and then we’ll have a nice little chat. Come on, palsy,” he went on to George, “you come along with me. You two’ve been in trouble, I can see that.”
He took George out of the room and down the passage. He pushed open another door and led George into a small bedroom. It was elegant and well furnished.