‘So, they say, did Brides-in-the-bath Smith. Is that it? Could be any of ten thousand men in London. He doesn’t seem to have made much of an impression.’
‘He does make an impression. He looks crisp and energetic … you know … fresh out of the shower and looking for trouble.’
‘How tiring!’
‘He eats three gypsy creams in as many minutes.’
‘Well, you’ve got something in common at least. But you can add to your picture manipulative and up to no good,’ Phyl said. ‘All things considered, though, I’d say this toff was worth our attention.’ Her eyes gleamed with intent. ‘But he doesn’t know what he’s taking on. We’ll have him on toast, shall we, Lil? Listen — if he was an officer in the last lot, he’s probably got something to hide. I’ll ask Albert. Albert’s a member of a rather seditious old soldiers’ drinking club in Soho. He can ask about. Follow him. See where he goes after dark. If there’s anything to know to your boss’s discredit, he’ll know it within the hour.’
Albert was Phyl’s chauffeur and debt-collector. His magnificent physique, combined with his deceptively sweet smile, secured instant cooperation from Phyl’s defaulting clients. People seemed to understand at once that, should they demur or cause a moment’s distress for Phyllis Wentworth, his loyalty to his employer would compel him, against all his pacific instincts, to ‘take steps’. Albert’s ‘steps’ were known to be earthshaking.
‘But first I’ll take a quick look through this month’s Society and Entertainment pages … see if I can’t outguess him. Pass it over, will you?’ She settled to thumb her way down the columns. ‘Now, if I were an energetic gent on mischief bent where would I be planning to spend my Saturday night in evening dress?’
Phyl worked her way patiently through the listed entertainments. ‘I see their majesties have opted for the Wagner at Covent Garden. But you say opera’s out. Well then, there’s early keyboard music at the Royal Institution. No? How about a trip down the Mile End Road to the People’s Palace of Delight? They’re staging a variety performance for the Excelsior Philanthropic Society in front of the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk. Ouch! Poor dears. Spending their Saturday night down the Mile End — now that’s philanthropy for you.’
Lily snatched the pages from her. ‘Let’s be serious. Theatre — that’s my best hope. What have we got on offer? … Oh, I say. We could be going to see The Man in Dress Clothes at the Garrick or Partners of Fate with Louise Lovely. Of course, there’s any number of balls on at the moment. One or two charity suppers. Let’s pray it’s not a charity dinner-dance — how dull. Only one of those promises to be the least bit interesting — the Russian émigrés one. At least it’s on at Claridges. Well, where else? Not short of a bob or two, these Russians.’
Phyllis took the listings back again. She fell silent, running her finger along the list of guests expected. ‘Sorry, love. Distracted. I was just checking the runners and riders for the Claridges do. At least ten of these are clients of mine and I’m frantically hoping I haven’t kitted out two archduchesses in similar confections. Bang would go my reputation overnight!’