He came to the flat to find François laying out his dress-clothes.
"Finish what you are doing and go home. I shall not want you this evening," he said. "Stay—have a bottle put on ice. You can lay the small table. You might have bought some flowers. I hate flowers, but—get some. You can throw them away tomorrow."
"Yes, m'sieur," said his imperturbable man, "for how many shall I lay supper?"
"For three," answered Ronnie.
It was a convention that he invariably entertained two guests, but François had never had to wash more than two used glasses.
VI
Beryl was still in the drawing-room and the tea table had not been cleared when Ambrose Sault came for the doctor's bag. She heard the sound of his voice in the hall and came to the head of the stairs.
"Is that you, Mr. Sault? Won't you come up for a moment?"
The doctor had telephoned to Moropulos, he explained, asking him to take the grip to his club. She gathered that it was usual for Ambrose to carry out these little commissions.