"Just as you like."
"Yes, it's I, Gavan Napier. Speaking from Lamborough."
She was surprised, greatly, you'd say pleasantly, surprised. Had Napier not stopped her, she would have been welcoming, in spite of the fact conveyed by that subtle inflection which tells the experienced ear that the speaker at the other end of the wire is not alone.
"Don't use names," Napier warned. "Could you get away from your party and return here at once?"
"What's happened?" the voice came sharply back.
"You might say Lady McIntyre wants you. She isn't ill. And she would specially like the party not to be broken up. The motor can go back for the others. One moment! Could you—use your influence to prevent anybody coming with you? Any one at all?"
After a second's pause the voice came pleasantly:
"The others have begun tea already. Famished. But I don't mind waiting to have mine with ... perhaps with you! Good-by, dear—"
Napier nearly dropped the receiver.
"—dear Lady McIntyre."