“Getting a divorce can take a while, from what I know about chaps who have taken that step,” Adrian felt bound to explain. “Many months, perhaps even a year. That’s a bit of a long time.”

Robert returned Adrian’s intense gaze but remained silent, obviously fully digesting his friend’s words.

Adrian said in a quiet voice, “You might feel it hard to keep your hands off her, and I’m certain you’ll go on seeing Vanessa as I do my bit, so to speak, getting your freedom.”

“I might,” Robert agreed. “However, I’ll just have to manage it, be very controlled. I’ll try hard.”

“What about Vanessa? She’s already mentioned the word ‘affair,’ according to you.”

“She has. There is a problem, however. I’ve nowhere to take her. My homes are full of servants. I can’t have her meet me at a hotel. I would be recognized and so would she. There are often pictures of her in the society magazines, and I’m well known, somewhat visible.”

“All too true. But I can solve that problem for you quite easily, if ever you can’t stand it anymore,” Adrian announced, sitting back in his chair.

“In what way can you solve it, Addy? Your house is full of servants too.”

Reaching into his trouser pocket, Adrian brought out a bunch of keys and selected one, then showed it to Robert. “I would lend you this key.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian saw their waiter approaching, and put the keys back in his pocket.

Once the waiter had placed the potted shrimp in front of them, and left, Adrian said, “That key can be yours whenever you want it.”

“What door does it open?” Robert, filled with curiosity, was eyeing Adrian with interest.

“A house in Farm Street.”

“Whose house? Yours? A secret place?”

“No, not mine. It belongs to my brother, Julian, and it’s actually his home. If you remember, he went to America a few months ago. He’s now working at our New York office, learning about American banking. Julian will be gone for a year, and asked me to check the house twice a week, look at his mail, that sort of thing.”

“Doesn’t he have help? You know, a housekeeper, for instance?”

“He’s only twenty, Robert. No staff. Just a charlady. Nice woman. She goes in every Monday, so Monday is strictly verboten. To be avoided. That is the only day Mrs. Weathers goes in, though.”

“Have you used it yet?” Robert asked, his face neutral.

“No, I haven’t, and the key is yours whenever you wish,” Adrian responded.

“Thank you,” Robert replied, and stuck his small fork into the potted shrimp.

Adrian did the same, saying at one moment, “I didn’t have anything to eat today, other than breakfast. I’m starving. And these are good.”