Black as was the evidence against him, my brother-in-law stoutly refused to be held responsible for the affair. All the way to the Hotel du Palais he declared violently that the engagement had been well and truly made, and that if Evelyn and her husband chose to forget all about it, that was no fault of his. Finally, when Jonah suggested that after luncheon we should return to the villa and inquire whether we had indeed been expected the day before, he assented with disconcerting alacrity. As we passed into the restaurant—
"And I'll do the interrogating," he concluded. "I don't want any of your leading questions. 'I quite expect we were expected yesterday, weren't we?' All sweet and slimy, with a five-franc note in the middle distance."
"How dare you?" said Daphne. "Besides, I'd be only too relieved to find it was their mistake."
"Blow your relief," replied her husband. "What about my bleeding heart?"
"I'm not much of a physician," said I, "but there's some cold stuffed venison on the sideboard. I don't know whether that, judiciously administered…."
Berry shook his head.
"I doubt it," he said mournfully. "I doubt it very much….
Still"—he looked round hungrily—"we can always try."
We were at the villa again within the hour.
Almost immediately we elicited the information that Major and Mrs.
Swetecote had spent the previous day at San Sebastian.
Turning a withering and glassy eye in our direction, my brother-in-law explained the position and desired permission to enter and write a note. This was granted forthwith.