“Yes, but he’s too busy to be disturbed.”
Their eyes met in open hostility.
“I object to the word ‘disturbed’,” said Hebe. “My visit is supposed to have exactly the opposite effect.” She smiled, a brilliantly ugly smile.
Azalea lifted her shoulders almost imperceptibly. “Mr. Dilling gave me definite instructions to allow no one to see him. I’m sorry, but I can’t make an exception, even in your favour.”
“What fidelity to duty,” mocked Hebe.
“You are very kind,” bowed Azalea, as though receiving a compliment.
“You know very well that your employer would not refuse to admit me,” cried Hebe. “Don’t you think I can see the vicious pleasure behind this rigid adherence to your instructions? Let me pass!”
“You are making a ridiculous scene,” said Azalea, white to the lips. “I am treating you just as I would treat anybody else—the Prime Minister, himself. You are not going to disturb—interrupt—Mr. Dilling!”
“How are you going to prevent me?” taunted Hebe. “Lay violent hands upon me and fling me to the floor?”
“I shan’t touch you,” retorted Azalea, her voice trembling with cold anger. “But I shall regard intrusion upon Mr. Dilling as a personal attack, and shall not have the slightest hesitation in ordering the policeman to protect his privacy.”