"I have never been in San Luca in my life," I replied boldly.
Sir Henry Tregattock's real answer was written legibly in his eyes. What he actually said was almost as direct.
"I fear San Luca is not as fortunate as you make out."
It was the first time that I had ever been called a liar, at all events by a man, and for a second my temper almost got the better of me. I took a step forward, and then I recollected my promise to Northcote. With a big effort I crushed down my anger.
"It is at least plain that you have retired from diplomacy, Sir Henry," I said.
We were both so intent upon paying compliments that for a moment neither of us noticed that Mercia had returned. It must have been fairly evident to her that the situation was a trifle strained, and she had doubtless hurried over her preparations to prevent things from reaching any distressing crisis. In a white satin opera cloak, with a light Indian shawl thrown over her hair, she looked more beautiful than ever. Coming up to Sir Henry, she laid her hand lightly on his arm.
"Shall I ask them to call the carriage?" she said.
He turned at once, and with a bow to Mercia I stepped back into the conservatory and left them together.
My brisk little interview with Sir Henry had put me in rather an aggressive mood, and it occurred to me that the promotion of a clearer understanding with Lord Sangatte would be an agreeable way of spending the next few minutes. So, without wasting time, I crossed the conservatory and knocked at his door.
"Come in," he said.