Caroline leapt up and ran to Netty and buried her face in her shoulder. Netty took her out of the room and I was left amid the ruins of the feast. I thought another glass of Burgundy would be just the thing at that moment, but the butler had removed it, and I had not quite the brass to ring the bell, so I took another apple from the dessert plate and ate it reflectively all by myself. I could not make head or tail of what had been going on. When the apple was finished, I went to the drawing-room and sat down to listen to a hockey-game on the radio. But I soon fell asleep on the sofa.

When I woke, the game was over and some dreary war news was being broadcast. I had a headache. As I went upstairs I saw a light under Caroline’s door, and went in. She was in pyjamas, carefully painting her toe-nails red.

“You’d better not let Netty catch you at that.”

“Thank you for your invaluable, unsought advice. Netty is no longer a problem in my life.”

“What have you two been hatching up?”

“We have been reaching an understanding. Netty doesn’t fully comprehend it yet, but I do.”

“What about?”

“Dope! Weren’t you listening at dinner? No, you weren’t, of course. You were too busy stuffing your face and guzzling booze to know what was happening.”

“I saw everything that happened. What didn’t I see? Don’t pretend to be so smart.”

“Netty opened up and made a few damaging admissions. That’s what happened.”

“I didn’t hear any damaging admissions. What are you talking about?”

“If you didn’t hear it was because you were drinking too much. Booze will be your downfall. Many a good man has gone to hell by the booze route, as Grandfather used to say. Didn’t you hear Netty admit that she loves Father?”

“What? She never said that!”

“Not in so many words. But it was plain enough.”

“Well! She certainly has a crust!”

“For loving Father? How refreshingly innocent you are! One of these days, if you remind me, I’ll give you my little talk about the relation of the sexes. It’s a lot more complicated than your low schoolboy mind can comprehend.”

“Oh, shut up! I’m older than you are. I know things you’ve never even heard of.”

“You probably mean about fairies. Old stuff, my poor boy!”

“Carol, I’m going to have to swat you.”

“Putting me to silence by brute strength? Okay, Tarzan. Then you’ll never hear the rest—which is also the best.”

“What?”

“Do you acknowledge me as the superior mind?”

“No. What do you know that makes you so superior?”

“Just the shameful secret of your birth, that’s all.”

“What!”

“I have every reason to believe that you are the son of Dunstan Ramsay.”

“Me!”

“You. Now I take a good look, in the light of my new information, you are quite a bit like him.”

“I am not! Listen, Carol, you just explain what you’ve said or I’ll kill you!”