"I am just going to tell him," Crawshay confided, "that Jocelyn Thew is dining with Miss Beverley and her brother, more red roses and a corner table in the restaurant, and—"
"Well, what else?"
Crawshay hesitated.
"Perhaps," he said, "if I went on I might put just one card too many on the table, eh?"
"We'll let it go at that, then," she decided. "After all, you know, I am not coming exactly like a lamb to the slaughter. There are a few things you'd like to get to know from me about Jocelyn Thew, but there are also a few things I should like to worm out of you. We'll see which wins. And, Mr. Crawshay."
"Miss Sharey?" he murmured, bending down to her as he held the door open.
"I don't mind confessing that it depends a great deal upon what brand of champagne you fancy."
"Mum cordon rouge?" he suggested.
She made a little grimace as she turned away.
"I am rather beginning to fancy your chance," she declared.