“I am not sure that I would have phrased it like that,” he replied, smiling at her over the rim of his own cup.

“Of course you would. It is fascinating, and so unlike my life, where I know the same tedious people year after year. Now please tell me more of this man who is missing. What manner of person is he?”

Quite unwillingly he told her all he knew that was not in confidence, and watched with pleasure both her intelligence and the smooth, unharassed expression of her face, as if her mind were engaged but she was not going to permit another woman's tragedy to spoil the pleasure or ease of their encounter.

“It seems to me,” she said thoughtfully, drinking the last of her coffee, “that the first thing you need to determine is whether he has a secret habit of some sort, be it another woman or some vice or other; or if he did as his wife feared, and went to visit his brother in the East End, and met with violence.”

“Quite,” he agreed. “That is why I am pursuing all I can in an effort to trace him during the last two or three weeks before his disappearance.”

“Hence the Geographical Society.” She nodded. “Where else might you try?

Perhaps I may be of some assistance?” She bit her lip. “This is, if I am not being too presumptuous?” She looked at him candidly with her wide, hazel eyes, but there was amusement and confidence in them. He knew that if he had refused her she would not have been hurt or offended, simply philosophical, and turned her attention to something else.

Not for a moment did he hesitate.

“Thank you. The matter is urgent, for Mrs. Stonefield's sake, so I should be grateful for any help at all. As you say, the first thing is to eliminate the most obvious alternative. His business affairs seem to be in excellent order, and his personal finances, so I cannot believe he gambled or indulged in any other vice which cost him money. Would you care for more coffee?”

“Thank you. I should like it very much,” she accepted.

It took him a moment to attract the waiter's attention, then when the man weaved his way through the tables to them, he ordered and paid. When the coffee came it was as steaming and fragrant as the first.

“Perhaps he was a successful gambler?” Drusilla raised her eyebrows.

“Then why disappear?” he countered.

“Oh, yes, I see.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Well . . naughty theater? Peep shows? Some forbidden religion? Seances or black magic?”

He started to laugh. It was wonderful to be able to wander into the realms of the absurd and forget poverty, disease and all the wretchedness he had seen.

“I can't see the man I've discovered so far indulging in anything so frivolous,” he said candidly.

She was laughing too. “Is black magic frivolous?”