When it was over Algy said, “Do you mind if we talk now?” and Gay said, “No,” and then wondered if she had been a fool, and a fool to come out with him. She threw a quick look at him and found him serious, panicked a little, and said quickly,

“There’s that Mr. Danvers who was with the Wessex-Gardners the other night.”

Algy was already aware of Mr. Danvers. He had, in fact, come here in the hope of seeing Mr. Danvers, who appeared to be an habitué. He said casually,

“Oh, yes, he’s often here, I believe. Do you know him?”

“Not really. I met him here the other night.”

“Did you dance with him?”

She made a little face.

“Once.”

“And what did you think of him?”

“Oh, I hated him,” said Gay cheerfully.

“Do you mind telling me why?”

“I’d love to tell you why. I’ve been wanting to let off steam ever since.”

“Why, what did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. He looked over the top of my head and told me how he had made a steel combine toe the line.”

Algy burst out laughing.

“My poor child! I’m afraid I can’t break his head for that.”

“No-it’s a pity, isn’t it? And when he had finished about the steel combine he began about a gas corporation-he’s got a tame one that eats out of his hand. And he rolls in wealth, but he’s very careful about girls-not to give them any encouragement, you know.”

“Can you look me in the eye and swear he told you that?”

“No, darling. That was Poppy Wessex-Gardner. Being kind, you know, so that I shouldn’t have any false hopes raised through being danced with and having heart-to-heart confidences about gas. And I said, ‘Oh, no, Mrs. Wessex-Gardner,’ and, ‘Oh, yes, Mrs. Wessex-Gardner,’ and looked meek, and my old black dress helped a lot, so she thawed a little and let me off with a caution instead of sending for the court executioner and saying ‘Off with her head!’ ”

“My child, you rave.”

“I know I do. It’s Aunt Agatha’s capital punishment people.” Her voice changed suddenly. “Why do you want to know about Mr. Danvers, and what do you want to know about Mr. Danvers?”

Algy leaned nearer and said in a low, direct voice,

“I want to know whether he’s your blackmailer, Gay.”

They were at a table in an alcove. There was no one near enough to hear, but anyone might have seen Gay’s change of colour and her startled look. She said all in a hurry,

“Why should he be?” And then, “I haven’t got a blackmailer! Don’t call him mine!” After which she took breath and said in a serious voice, “Algy, what on earth do you mean?”

Algy did not answer at once. He took time to look at Gay, time to be sure that he trusted her, time to tell himself that he had been a fool. He said at last,

“When we were here the other night something was slipped into one of my pockets, and I’m wondering who did it. You asked me what I would do if someone tried to blackmail me, and then you were angry because I thought you meant that someone was blackmailing you. I wish you’d tell me the rest.”

“There isn’t any more, and if there was, I couldn’t tell you. What did you find in your pocket-a love letter?”

“Something that had been stolen.”

“Algy-not really! How thrilling!”

Algy said, “No.” And then after a pause, “Damnable.”

Her face changed.

“Algy, please. What is it? Do tell me.”

He shook his head.

“I can’t. You’ll probably hear about it-there’s a considerable amount of chat going on. But I’d rather you didn’t say anything about the envelope being put into my pocket.”

Her eyes opened so widely that the lights shone down into them as the sun shines into dark peaty water, lightening its colour, filling it with floating golden specks. He thought with a faint shock of surprise, “Her eyes aren’t dark at all, they’re amber. It’s the shade of the lashes that makes them look black.”

She caught her breath and opened her lips to speak, but didn’t speak. She was remembering something, and trying not to remember it.

Algy said quickly, “What is it, Gay?” and she said nothing. And then,

“Why should anyone put an envelope in your pocket?”

Algy leaned an elbow on the table.

“I think someone had the kind thought that my rooms might be searched, and that it might be found there. Fortunately I found it myself.”

Gay leaned over the table too.

“Algy-how horrid! Who could possibly-”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

She spoke quickly.

“You’re not-in any trouble? It’s not-it’s not serious?”

“It might be.”

“How?” The word was rather breathless.

He looked away from her because it was dangerous to be so near, to see her eyes so soft and anxious-for him. He said in a studiously quiet voice,

“Someone’s trying to get me into trouble. If they bring it off, I should be finished as far as my present job is concerned, and as far as politics are concerned. There’d be a black mark against me. But they’re not going to bring it off. I’m going to get to the bottom of it and clear myself.”

“You can’t tell me about it?”

He did look at her then. This was a Gay he had not seen before-serious, troubled. He said,

“I don’t think so. You’ll hear the talk-you’re bound to.”

Her lip quivered. She put up her hand to it like a child and shook her head.

“I wouldn’t listen-you know that. Won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t think I must, Gay.”

She looked away with a quick turn of the head as if he had hurt her. He found his hand on her arm.

“Gay-don’t. I’d like to tell you, but it’s not my affair.”

Gay jumped up.

“Come and dance! That’s what we came here for, isn’t it? Oh, no-you did say something about wanting to talk to me-didn’t you? But of course-how stupid of me-you only meant to find out whether someone had been blackmailing me into putting stolen whatnots into your pocket.”

“Gay!” He had got up too. There was the width of the table between them, and hard breaking waves of anger.

Gay’s head was high and her eyes bright.

“Well, that was it, wasn’t it! Wasn’t it? You can’t say it wasn’t-can you?”

Algy was quite as angry as she was-angrier perhaps, because he had the disadvantage of a guilty conscience. He smiled and said,

“Is this an invitation to the waltz?”

Gay considered. Even in the middle of her just indignation she could be practical. If you quarrel with your young man at a night-club, proper pride demands that you either go off with someone else or that you take a taxi home. As the only possible alternative to Algy was Mr. Danvers, and going home would mean more capital punishment, she blenched. Her lip twitched and she broke into an angry laugh.

“For tuppence I’d catch the Danvers ’ eye!”

Algy produced the tuppence and held it out.

“This will be number two in our programme entitled ‘Why Girls Take Gas.’ Go on-I dare you!”

“Algy, you’re a beast!”

He put the coppers in his pocket, slipped his arm round her waist, and said,

“Fierce-aren’t you? Come along and dance.”