The Inspector turned a dull red. "There's no call for you to talk like that, madam. I'm sure I don't want to rub any bloom off anybody! But I've got my duty to do, and I'm bound to tell you that I can't have you trying to obstruct me the way you're trying to!"
A voice from above made him look quickly up the staircase. "Oh, darling Ermyntrude, I do think that's so dear and quaint of you!" said Vicky. "Only I simply haven't got any bloom left after what's happened, and anyway you can see what a nice man he probably is in his off time." She bestowed one of her more angelic smiles upon the Inspector, and said confidingly: "I dare say you've got daughters of your own?"
The Inspector was not unnaturally put off his balance by the sudden and enchanting vision of a fragile beauty, ethereally fair in a frock of unrelieved black, and said that he was not a family man.
"Oh, aren't you? I quite thought you must be," said Vicky.. "Do you want to talk to me? Shall I come down?"
"If you please, miss."
Ermyntrude, whose wrath had given way to the fondest maternal admiration, watched her daughter float downstairs in a drift of black chiffon, and said involuntarily: "Oh, Vicky, I am glad you've changed out of those trousers! Somehow they didn't seem right to me."
"Oh no, they were utterly anomalous!" agreed Vicky. Her gaze fell upon Hugh. "I can't imagine why you've come back. I think you're frightfully uncalled-for."
"You ought to be grateful to me for swelling your audience," replied Hugh.
"I must have people in sympathy with me," said Vicky. "All great artistes are like that."
"What's that got to do with it?" inquired Hugh unkindly.