Charles nodded and smiled several times, vaguely. He was wondering how soon he could get this part of it over and get across to Veronica. For a few minutes he stood on the fringe of the main group, while Mr. Blearney launched into another of his stories. The valet in the white coat came round with a tray of drinks. Charles took one and drained it. Immediately the valet was at his elbow, offering him another. Mr. Blearney had evidently trained him to encourage his own principle—the first one at a gulp, the second more slowly. He tried to keep his attention on the story, or rather cluster of related stories, into which Mr. Blearney was now fairly launched, but it was useless. He glanced across at Veronica Roderick. She was quite apart from the rest of the gathering. The valet had just handed her another drink, but she had not touched it. She was holding a cigarette in one hand. The slim white tube seemed thicker and clumsier than the fingers which held it. The spiral of smoke seemed less delicate and mysterious than her small, tense form.

She looked up and saw him looking at her. Without embarrass­ment she gave him a quick smile.

Charles began to edge away from his fellow-guests. If he could get across to her before Mr. Blearney finished his saga, they might have quite a few minutes together without interruption. As he began to steal away he felt a hand laid on his arm. It was the young man in grey suède shoes.

‘Oh, don’t go away,’ he breathed in a beautifully modulated undertone, his hand closing round Charles’s wrist. ‘Do come over and talk to me. I felt straight away when you came in, what an interesting face, I must talk to that young man.’

‘Later, later,’ muttered Charles impatiently, trying to push past him. But the man in grey suède shoes revealed an unexpected physical strength in the grip he now exerted on Charles’s arm.

‘Oh, yes, we’ll have a nice long talk later,’ he said. ‘We’ll go back to my place and we’ll be able to talk all night if we want to. And I feel quite sure we shall want to. But do tell me something about yourself now. You’re an engineer—how perfectly unex­pected. I’d never have guessed.’

Charles stopped dead. It was no use trying to slip gracefully away from this kind of thing. It had to be faced and ended abruptly. It was one more of the obstacles that stood between him and Veronica Roderick.