So it was for Roberta. From the Lampreys’ car she saw the roundabout of Piccadilly, the great sailing buses, the sea of faces, the traffic of the Circus, and she felt a kind of realization stir in her heart.

“It’s not so very big,” said Roberta.

“Quite small, really,” said Henry.

“I don’t mean it’s not thrilling,” said Roberta. “It is. I—I feel as if I’d like to be—sort of inside it.”

“I know,” agreed Henry. “Let’s nip out, Frid, and walk round the corner to Angelo’s.”

He said to the chauffeur: “Pick us up in twenty minutes, will you, Mayling?”

“Here’s a jam,” said Frid. “Now’s our chance. Come on.”

Henry opened the door and took Roberta’s hand. She scrambled out. The voyage, the ship, and the sea all slid away into remoteness. A new experience took Roberta and the sounds that are London engulfed her.

CHAPTER THREE

Preparation for a Charade

THE LAMPREYS LIVED in two flats which occupied the entire top story of a building known as Pleasaunce Court Mansions. Pleasaunce Court is merely a short street connecting Cadogan Square with Lennox Gardens and the block of flats stands on the corner. To Roberta the outside seemed forbidding but the entrance hall had lately been redecorated and was more friendly. Pale green walls, a thick carpet, heavy armchairs and an enormous fire gave an impression of light and luxury. The firelight flickered on the chromium steel of a lift-cage in the centre of the hall and on a slotted framework that held the names of the flat owners. Roberta read the top one: No. 25 & 26. LORD AND LADY CHARLES LAMPREY. IN. Henry followed her gaze, crossed quickly to the board and moved a chromium-steel tab.

“LORD AND LADY CHARLES LAMPREY. OUT, I fancy,” muttered Henry.

“Oh, are they!” cried Roberta. “Are they away?”

“No,” said Henry. “Ssh!”

“Ssh!” said Frid.

They moved their heads slightly in the direction of the door. A small man wearing a bowler hat stood on the pavement outside and appeared to consult an envelope in his hands. He looked up at the front of the flats and then approached the steps.

“In to the lift!” Henry muttered and opened the doors. Roberta in a state of extreme bewilderment entered the lift. A porter, heavily smart in a dark green uniform and several medals, came out of an office.

“Hullo, Stamford,” said Henry. “Good morning to you. Mayling’s got some luggage out there in the car.”

“I’ll attend to it, sir,” said the porter.

“Thank you so much,” murmured the Lampreys politely, and Henry added, “His lordship is away this morning, Stamford.”

“Indeed, sir?” said the porter. “Thank you, sir.”

“Up we go,” said Henry.

The porter shut them in, Henry pressed a button and with a metallic sigh the lift took them to the top of the building.

“Stamford doesn’t work the lift,” explained Henry. “He’s only for show and to look after the service flats downstairs.”