“Well, Violet,” she said, “I hear you have taken up conjuring.”
“You couldn’t be more mistaken,” said Lady Wutherwood in a deep voice. She spoke with a very slight accent, slurring her words together. After each phrase she rearranged her mouth with those clicking movements and stealthily touched away the white discs at the corners, but in a little while they reformed.
“Aunty Kit,” cried Frid, “will you have some sherry? Aunt Violet?”
“No thank you, my dear,” said Lady Katherine.
“Yes,” said Lady Wutherwood.
“You’d better not, V.,” said Lord Wutherwood. “You know what’ll happen.”
Mike walked to the end of the sofa and stared fixedly at his aunt. Lord Charles turned to his brother with an air of cordiality. “It’s a sherry that I think you rather like, Gabriel, don’t you?” he said. “Corregio del Martez, ’79.”
“If you can afford a sherry like that—” began Lord Wutherwood. Henry hurriedly placed a glass at his elbow.
“Aunt Violet,” asked Mike suddenly, “can you do the rope trick? I bet you can’t. I bet you can’t do that and I bet you can’t saw a lady in half.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Mike,” said Patch.