THE MAN IN THE BROWN SUIT
To E.A.B
In memory of a journey, some lion stories
and a request that I should some day write
the “Mystery of the Mill House”

Prologue¹
Nadina, the Russian dancer who had taken Paris by storm, swayed to thesound of the applause, bowed and bowed again. Her narrow black eyesnarrowed themselves still more, the long line of her scarlet² mouth curvedfaintly upwards³. Enthusiastic Frenchmen continued to beat the groundappreciatively as the curtain fell with a swish, hiding the reds and bluesand magentas of the bizarre décor. In a swirl⁴ of blue and orange draperiesthe dancer left the stage. A bearded gentleman received her enthusiastic-ally in his arms. It was the Manager.
“Magnificent, petite, magnificent,” he cried. “Tonight you have sur-passed yourself.” He kissed her gallantly⁵ on both cheeks in a somewhatmatter-of-fact manner.
Madame Nadina accepted the tribute with the ease of long habit andpassed on to her dressing⁶ room, where bouquets⁷ were heaped carelesslyeverywhere, marvellous garments of futuristic design hung on pegs⁸, andthe air was hot and sweet with the scent⁹ of the massed blossoms and withthe more sophisticated perfumes and essences. Jeanne, the dresser, min-istered to her mistress, talking incessantly¹⁰ and pouring out a stream of ful-some compliments.
A knock at the door interrupted the flow, Jeanne went to answer it, andreturned with a card in her hand.
“Madame will receive?”
“Let me see.”

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