A tantalus and syphons stood on the table. Without saying more, Stapleton mixed himself a brandy and soda. Then he took a cigar from La Planta’s box.
“One or two things have happened lately,” he said at last, “which rather puzzle me. And the last is why those women should have asked you to dine alone with them.”
“No puzzle about that,” Archie answered, then went on to explain how Mrs. Hartsilver and Yootha Hagerston had obviously tried to pick his brain regarding Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson and her past life.
“Strange,” Stapleton said thoughtfully. “That fits in with something that was said to me within the last hour. You know that little Jew who lends money to his friends—Levi Schomberg?”
“By name.”
“I know him only slightly, but we walked along Jermyn Street together just now—he was bound for the Turkish baths—and he warned me to be on my guard against ‘Hartsilver’s widow’—said she was a ‘designing woman,’ as I might presently find out, and added that she was trying, for a reason which he stated, to get a case up against—well, you can guess whom.”
“What sort of case?”
“A scandalous case. So, putting two and two together, I can only suppose that Cora Hartsilver is either jealous of our friend, or that for some reason she bears her a grudge.”
For a little while they continued talking.
And, while they talked, interesting events were in progress not far away.