"Oversights?"
"Why, yes—I'm afraid so. Dreadfully sorry. But of course I'll try not to forget next time."
"But Madame Blair—" and then suddenly the tone changed. "Yes, I know how it is—we all have those days, don't we? Well, there's something you really should know, so don't forget our next little get-together, will you?" An enchanting little giggle was attached, but there had been no giggle in the first three words.
"No, I won't forget," Dot said.
"'Til next time, then. Good-bye."
Dot hung up, and the room seemed suddenly to have become cold. Intuition was one thing—she wouldn't be a woman if she didn't trust that. But imagination was of course quite another. It had been simply an unexpected half-minute phone-call. Short, almost too short, if she were any judge of the ladies' society type. Nonsense....
She sat down. And the chair was cold.
Nerves, girl, that's all. Like the night you saw the man in the shadows outside the house and Doug wasn't home from the banquet yet, and it turned out to be the neighborhood cop waiting for his beat relief....
She had to forget it, get the message to Doug. What would she say, now? "As per your instructions—"
But Madame Blair—!