"That was very kind of you. But don't talk about not winning. I still remember some of the dishes you served for dinner at your home that time George and I paid you a visit. Mmmmm—they were really delicious."
Mrs. Silver uttered another little laugh. "Just ordinary recipes. I'm so glad you liked them, though."
"I certainly did. And I'm sure the judge will like your cake, too."
"The judge? Don't you usually have a committee?"
He could hear every word. They had no idea how sharp his sense of hearing was, and he had no desire to disconcert them further by letting them know. He could hear every conversation taking place in ordinary tones in the large reception room. When he concentrated he could make out the whispers. At this point he had to concentrate, for Mrs. Claymore leaned over and breathed into her friend's attentive ear.
"My dear, haven't you heard? We've had such trouble with that committee—there were such charges of favoritism! It was really awful."
"Really? But how did you find a judge then?"
"Don't look now—no, I'll tell you what to do. Pretend I said something funny, and throw your head back and laugh. Take a quick glance at him while you do. He's sitting up there alone, on the platform."