“Oh, no, at a little place on fifty-seventh street.” Of course Dorothy had no idea where Janet had bought the dress. “It is a Paris model, though, Mrs. Lawson.”
“I thought as much. Ah, here comes Tunbridge with the cocktails. I wonder which side of the fence you are on?”
“I’m—I’m afraid I don’t know quite what you mean, Mrs. Lawson.”
“I’ll explain,” broke in the old gentleman. “I’m the prohibitionist in this house, Janet. Mrs. Lawson is one of the antis. She likes a real cocktail before dinner. I prefer one made of tomato juice.”
Mrs. Lawson had already helped herself to a brimming glass and a small canapé of caviar from the silver tray Tunbridge was holding.
“Oh, I love tomato cocktails,” smiled Dorothy. She took one from the man and helped herself to the caviar. “Daddy asked me not to drink until I was twenty-one—and I’m not so keen on the idea, anyway.”
“I try to keep an open mind about such things,” the Doctor said seriously, “but I’ve never found that the use of alcohol did anyone any good. Well, here’s your very good health, ladies!” He raised his glass of tomato juice and drank.
Dinner was announced a few minutes later. Doctor Winn offered his right arm to Mrs. Lawson and his left to Dorothy and they walked into the dining room. Dorothy did not enjoy that meal as much as she had her luncheon. True, the food was delicious and the panelled room with its cheerful fire on the hearth and the soft glow of candle light was delightfully homey, while Doctor Winn’s easy chatter and fund of interesting reminiscence helped to break the tedium of the courses. But Dorothy found it difficult to play up to his amusing sallies. The old gentleman appeared to be in very good spirits indeed. Laura Lawson, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. At times she seemed distrait and merely smiled absently when spoken to. She drank several glasses of claret, but hardly touched her food. Dorothy felt surer than ever that the Lawsons had planned their coup for tonight. She shrewdly surmised that this cold-blooded adventuress had become fond of the genial, fatherly old man, and realized that at his age the blow she contemplated might very well prove a fatal one.
As the dinner wore on, Dorothy felt more and more ill at ease. The sight of Tunbridge, soft-footed and efficient, waiting on table or superintending his satellite of the plum-colored kneebreeches, sent her thoughts to the night’s work ahead every time the detective-butler came into the room. She was glad when at last the meal was over and they repaired to the library where after-dinner coffee was served. Dorothy rarely drank coffee in the evening, but tonight she allowed Tunbridge to fill her cup a second time. There must be no sleep for her until the wee hours of the morning, and she knew from former experience that the black coffee would keep her awake.
Mrs. Lawson, after wandering aimlessly about the room, finally picked up a technical magazine and commenced to read. Doctor Winn suggested a game of chess to Dorothy. She was fond of the ancient game and told him so. Many a tournament she and her father had played with their red and white ivory chessmen. Dr. Winn was a brilliant player, of long experience. Soon he began to compliment Dorothy upon a number of strategic moves. But although several times she managed to place his king in check, it was invariably her own royal chessman who was checkmated in the end. As the evening wore on, the beatings became more frequent, for Dorothy simply could not keep her mind on the game.