Polly snickered nervously, “Oh, nothing––except that you were a German spy.”
And now somewhere, somehow, Marie Louise found the courage of desperation. She laughed:
“Lady Clifton-Wyatt is notori––famous for her quaint sense of humor.”
Lady Clifton-Wyatt sneered, “Could one expect a spy to admit it?”
Marie Louise smiled patiently. “Probably not. But surely even you would hardly insist that denying it proves it?”
This sophistry was too tangled for Polly. She spoke up:
“Let’s have the details, Lady Clifton-Wyatt––if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, yes,” the chorus murmured.
Lady Clifton-Wyatt braced herself. “Well, in the first place Miss Webling is not Miss Webling.”