'Never entered into my head,' he assured her.
'Then you can give me some lunch at one o'clock,' she promised.
'That's exactly what I was hoping for. And, Miss de Freyne?'
'Well?'
'Would you mind very much if I brought an acquaintance?'
She glanced at him in some surprise.
'Of course not,' she answered, 'only it must be a grill-room luncheon, please. I am dressed for a scrimmage.'
'At one o'clock at the Milan Grill,' he told her, raising his hat.
He strolled slowly away southwards, crossed Pall Mall, and let himself in by a side entrance to the American Embassy. Here he spent a few minutes in the outer offices and passed on, a little later, into a more private apartment. An elderly man with a clean-shaven face, grey hair brushed back from his forehead, and tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, looked up from his roll-topped desk and waved his visitor to a seat.
'Hullo, Ambrose! Anything fresh?'