“It’s still very early, isn’t it?” said Pia, looking around as if to see a clock. “What time is it?” She decided to try to be as nonchalant as Whitney, as if this were no big deal. And it really wasn’t, Pia thought, apart from the fact that Berman was drugged rather than asleep. Pia had no idea if he would suspect anything when he woke up, but the thought of it made her anxious to leave. At the same time, she wanted to stick around to see if Berman was okay, because if a doctor examined him, it might be hard to evade the difficult questions that would almost certainly arise.

“It’s a quarter of five here,” Whitney said, interrupting Pia’s train of thought. “But it’s not that time all over the world.” Whitney looked back to her device as an answering text came in, and she went back to tapping on the keyboard.

Pia imagined that in China it was approaching five P.M., since it was on the opposite side of the world. Perhaps that’s where Berman was calling. It certainly made sense.

“Yes, well, he’s asleep in there,” said Pia, suddenly feeling the need to say something. “We both had rather a lot to drink, I’m sorry to say.” Pia didn’t have to fake feeling tired and slightly hungover. She rarely drank alcohol of any kind.

Whitney finished typing and looked at Pia.

“Don’t worry, Pia, you won’t hear any judgment from me,” she said. “One of the reasons Zachary likes me is my complete discretion. But the call has to be made. Excuse me!”

Then she walked off in the direction of the den. Despite herself and after a moment of indecision, Pia thought it would be inappropriate to leave at that point, so she followed. Whitney went over to Berman and tapped him on the shoulder, but he didn’t wake up. She squatted down and shook him more forcibly while calling out his name. There was still no response. She stood back up, looking down at him. “He’s sleeping like a baby. What on earth were you drinking? He looks like he’s out cold.”

“This,” said Pia, holding up the almost-empty decanter of whiskey. The scent wafting up made her feel sick. She picked up the soiled glasses, including Berman’s tumbler, which she’d washed right after Berman had passed out but had brought back to the den. She was glad she had, because it might look odd that there were no glasses with the whiskey. But only if she was acting guiltily, which Pia was now very afraid she was doing.

“You can leave those for the housekeeper,” said Whitney with a wave of her hand.