Lady Wereminster looked rather pale.
"To what, pray, are you alluding?" she asked.
Brand looked up desperately.
"Have you seen this week's Crystal, Lady Wereminster? It came half-an-hour ago. I've kept it from Evelyn till now. You know those accursed problems that they print weekly—one's meant to read between the lines. The ghastly part of them is that they are veiled under so damnable and complete a cloak of anonymity."
"Will you kindly oblige me by being more explicit?" asked Lady Wereminster, after a glacial pause.
Brand turned, at bay, his eyes flashing. He was really playing his part excellently.
"There's something about Evelyn!—about Evelyn!—in the paper."
"An unopened copy is on the table beside you," said Lady Wereminster. "Will you kindly read me the paragraph to which you refer?"
Holding the table for support, Brand read on slowly, giving each word its full significance.
"'A woman who contemplates an eventual ménage à trois is wise not to marry an athletic husband.'