Jack set a pair of glasses in front of the two men. I met his gaze for a second or two, but there was no telling what he was thinking, no expression at all on that flat, white face. Still, I had the idea he was communicating something, some idea. Someone’s at the end of his rope, he’d said.

I circled my finger around the rim of my glass. “Say. Your father-in-law’s in the same boat, isn’t that right? Wife scampered off to cooler climes.”

“Yes, Mrs. Oakes is in Maine, as usual.”

“Poor Sir Harry. The way he stomps around without her. You ought to keep each other company.”

Freddie winced. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen Sir Harry in some time.”

“On the outs, are you?”

“For the moment. He’s something of an autocrat, you see—”

“You don’t say.”

“And I—well.” Freddie put his hand to his heart. “I am not so easily brought to heel, I’m afraid. He knows I don’t want his money, and it irks him.”

“Irks him? Isn’t he pleased you’re not after Nancy’s fortune?”

“Not at all. A man like that, money is the only power he knows. Without it, he’s just an ordinary fellow. And a son-in-law who can’t be bought—well. But we will mend fences. He’s got a temper, that fellow, but he’s like me. The storm passes, and everything is like it was before.” Freddie sipped his whiskey. “Anyway, he leaves for Maine in a day or two. That should cool him off.”

“Meanwhile, he sits at Westbourne with Harold Christie.”

“Christie’s with him?”

“That’s what I hear. In a plush guest suite, whispering into the old man’s ear. What’s the matter?”

Freddie was shaking his head. “Christie. You know he double-crossed Sir Harry last year, on the deal for the land for that airport? He had better watch himself. Sir Harry plays a long game. And Christie owes him a great deal of money.”

“Does he, now?”

“A great deal.” He glanced at Georges de Visledou, who had taken his drink and his cigarette and gone over to speak to a pair of women at one of the little round tables. “I will tell you something else. A few months ago, just before we had this last little disagreement, Sir Harry told me he was going to leave Nassau.”

“Oh, that’s been going around for ages.”

“No, but he means it. He doesn’t like the way the women here treat his wife, for one thing. He doesn’t like all the scrutiny, you know, this British oversight in his affairs. He’s been sending his money away for some time, to this bank in Mexico, and you may take my word for this, Mrs. Randolph. By this time next year, Oakes will be out of the Bahamas for good.”