Seven
Mary Rees-Talbot greeted Colonel Race with a positive shriek¹ of unbelief.
“My dear, I haven’t seen you since you disappeared so mysteriously
from Allahabad that time. And why are you here now? It isn’t to see me,
I’m quite sure. You never pay social calls. Come on now, own up, you
needn’t be diplomatic about it.”
“Diplomatic methods would be a waste of time with you, Mary. I always
have appreciated your X-ray mind.”
“Cut the cackle and come to the horses, my pet.”
Race smiled.
“Is the maid who let me in Betty Archdale?” he inquired.
“So that’s it! Now don’t tell me that the girl, a pure Cockney if ever there
was one, is a well-known European spy because I simply don’t believe it.”
“No, no, nothing of the kind.”
“And don’t tell me she’s one of our counterespionage either, because I
don’t believe that.”
“Quite right. The girl is simply a parlourmaid.”
“And since when have you been interested in simple parlourmaids—not
that Betty is simple—an artful dodger² is more like it.”
“I think,” said Colonel Race, “that she might be able to tell me some-
thing.”
“If you asked her nicely? I shouldn’t be surprised if you’re right. She has
the close-to-the-door-when-there’s-anything-interesting-going-on tech-
nique very highly developed. What does M. do?”
“M. very kindly³ offers me a drink and rings for Betty and orders it.”
“And when Betty brings it?”
“By then M. has very kindly gone away.”
“To do some listening outside the door herself?”
“If she likes.”
“And after that I shall be bursting with Inside Information about the
latest European crisis?”
“I’m afraid not. There is no political situation involved in this.”
“What a disappointment! All right. I’ll play!”
Mrs. Rees-Talbot, who was a lively near-brunette of forty-nine, rang the
bell and directed her good-looking parlourmaid to bring Colonel Race a
whisky and soda⁴.
When Betty Archdale returned, with a salver and the drink upon it, Mrs.

分享到：