“Oh, yes, you were! Don’t be an old humbug, George. You were wondering, in a slightly dismayed fashion, whether I was the latest victim!”

Carrington said slowly:

“I’ll admit that it did seem a trifle odd to me that she should be here—well, this particular weekend.”

Lord Mayfield nodded.

“Where the carcass is, there are the vultures gathered together. We’ve got a very definite carcass, and Mrs. Vanderlyn might be described as Vulture No. 1.”

The Air Marshal said abruptly:

“Know anything about this Vanderlyn woman?”

Lord Mayfield clipped off the end of a cigar, lit it with precision and, throwing his head back, dropped out his words with careful deliberation.

“What do I know about Mrs. Vanderlyn? I know that she’s an American subject. I know that she’s had three husbands, one Italian, one German and one Russian, and that in consequence she has made useful what I think are called ‘contacts’ in three countries. I know that she manages to buy very expensive clothes and live in a very luxurious manner, and that there is some slight uncertainty as to where the income comes from which permits her to do so.”

With a grin, Sir George Carrington murmured:

“Your spies have not been inactive, Charles, I see.”

“I know,” Lord Mayfield continued, “that in addition to having a seductive type of beauty, Mrs. Vanderlyn is also a very good listener, and that she can display a fascinating interest in what we call ‘shop.’ That is to say, a man can tell her all about his job and feel that he is being intensely interesting to the lady! Sundry young officers have gone a little too far in their zeal to be interesting, and their careers have suffered in consequence. They have told Mrs. Vanderlyn a little more than they should have done. Nearly all the lady’s friends are in the Services—but last winter she was hunting in a certain county near one of our largest armament firms, and she formed various friendships not at all sporting in character. To put it briefly, Mrs. Vanderlyn is a very useful person to . . .” He described a circle in the air with his cigar. “Perhaps we had better not say to whom! We will just say to a European power—and perhaps to more than one European power.”

Carrington drew a deep breath.

“You take a great load off my mind, Charles.”

“You thought I had fallen for the siren? My dear George! Mrs. Vanderlyn is just a little too obvious in her methods for a wary old bird like me. Besides, she is, as they say, not quite so young as she once was. Your young squadron leaders wouldn’t notice that. But I am fifty-six, my boy. In another four years I shall probably be a nasty old man continually haunting the society of unwilling debutantes.”

“I was a fool,” said Carrington apologetically, “but it seemed a bit odd—”