She looked at me sharply.
“I remember,” she said. “Did—did it ever come true?”
“Half of it did. You said I should meet a man who’ld have a terrific influence on my life—indirectly, through somebody else. Well, you were perfectly right.”
“That all?” she said, looking at me very hard.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s all that’s been fulfilled. So far as I know, I’ve had no influence on him. And I assume I should know. Mine was to be direct, if you remember.”
“And physical,” said Sarah Roach.
“And physical,” said I, “whatever that may mean. If it’s coming off, it’ll have to come off quick. He’s over seventy-four, and the papers say he’s ill.”
Miss Roach stared at me as if I was drunk.
“Seventy-four?” she snapped. “Who—what’s his name?”
“That I can’t tell you,” said I. “But he’s in Debrett. Why shouldn’t he be seventy-four?”