She knew only too well from what source Michael Strange had obtained his information. She felt guilty and unhappy, knowing that she was doing wrong to withhold her own discoveries from her relations. She finished the meal in silence, aware of her brother's scrutiny, and took care to avoid a tete-a-tete conversation with him afterwards. This was an easy matter, as they all played tennis again during the afternoon, and there was no opportunity for him to speak to her alone in between the last set and the arrival of their guests.
She lingered over her dressing, and did not go down to the drawing-room until she had heard one of the visitors arrive. She entered the room at length to find Colonel Ackerley apparently discussing whooping-cough with the doctor.
"I'm afraid there's no doubt about it," Roote was saying. "But it oughtn't to interfere with you, Colonel."
Celia turned as Margaret came in. "Oh, Margaret, isn't it a nuisance for the Colonel? His butler's little boy has developed whooping-cough!"
"All the fault of these cinemas," grumbled the Colonel, shaking hands with Margaret. "Time and again I've said people had no business to let their children go to those germ-ridden holes. But you might as well talk to a brick wall as to that housekeeper of mine. Silly fools, both she and her husband."
Dr Roote drank his cocktail in a gulp. "Well, I don't see what you're worrying about," he said. "All kids go through it, and it isn't as though this one lives in your house."
"No, but I shall have him whooping all over the garden if I know anything about it. Never wanted a couple with a child, but like a fool I gave way and let 'em live over the garage. Ought to have stuck to my original intention, and barred children." He put down his glass, and seemed to make an effort to throw off his annoyance. "Well, well, you'll say I'm a crotchetty old bachelor, eh, Mrs. Malcolm?"
"Not a bit," Celia assured him. "I say instead that you'll take a brighter view after dinner."
It was not until shortly before ten o'clock that Bowers came in to announce the arrival of M. Duval. Charles had cut out of the bridge four, and was standing behind the Colonel, watching him play, with considerable skill, a difficult hand. Bowers came up to him, and said softly: "M. Duval, sir. I've shown him into the study."
"No spade, Colonel?" Celia asked quickly.