‘I like her awfully. M’sister Mildred and her boy Donald and I had been to Troy’s show. You know m’sister Mildred, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn, smiling.

‘Yes. No end of a donkey in many ways but a good woman. The boy’s a young dog.’

‘Bunchy,’ said Alleyn, ‘you’re better than Victorian, you’re Regency.’

‘Think so? Tell you what, Roderick, I’ve got to come out of my shell and do the season a bit.’

‘You always do the season, don’t you?’

‘I get about a bit. Enjoy myself. Young Donald’s paying his addresses to a gel called Bridget O’Brien. Know her?’

‘That’s funny,’ said Alleyn. ‘My mama is bringing out brother George’s girl and it appears she’s the bosom friend of Bridget O’Brien. She’s Evelyn and Paddy O’Brien’s daughter, you know.’

‘I know. Called on Evelyn this morning. She married that ass Carrados. Pompous. Clever in the City, I’m told. I had a look at the gel. Nice gel, but there’s something wrong somewhere in that family. Carrados, I suppose. D’you like the gel?’

‘I don’t know her. My niece Sarah likes her.’

‘Look here,’ said Lord Robert, spreading out his hands and staring at them in mild surprise. ‘Look here. Dine with us for Lady C.’s dance. Will you? Do.’

‘My dear Bunchy, I’m not asked.’

‘Isn’t your niece goin’?’

‘Yes, I expect she is.’

‘Get you a card. Easy as winking. Do come. Troy’s dining too. Donald and I persuaded her.’

‘Troy,’ said Alleyn. ‘Troy.’

Lord Robert looked sharply at him for about two seconds.

‘Never mind if you’d rather not,’ he said.

‘I can’t tell you how much I should like to come,’ said Alleyn slowly, ‘but you see I’m afraid I might remind Miss Troy of—of that very unpleasant case.’

‘Oh. ’m. Well, leave it open. Think it over. You’re sure to get a card. Now—what about business?’

He made a funny eager grimace, pursed his lips, and with a deft movement of his hand slung his glasses over his nose. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘We rather think blackmail,’ said Alleyn.

‘Lor’,’ said Lord Robert. ‘Where?’

‘Here, there and everywhere in high society.’

‘How d’yer know?’

‘Well.’ Alleyn laid a thin hand on the file. ‘This is rather more than usually confidential, Bunchy.’

‘Yes, yes, yes. All right. I’ll be as silent,’ said Lord Robert, ‘as the grave. Mum’s the word. Let’s have the names and all the rest of it. None of your Mr and Mrs Xes.’

‘All right. You know Mrs Halcut-Hackett? Old General Halcut-Hackett’s wife?’

‘Yes. American actress. Twenty years younger than H-H. Gorgeous creature.’