“I was a fool,” said Carrington apologetically, “but it seemed a bit odd—”
“It seemed to you odd that she should be here, in a somewhat intimate family party just at the moment when you and I were to hold an unofficial conference over a discovery that will probably revolutionize the whole problem of air defence?”
Sir George Carrington nodded.
Lord Mayfield said, smiling:
“That’s exactly it. That’s the bait.”
“The bait?”
“You see, George, to use the language of the movies, we’ve nothing actually ‘on’ the woman. And we want something! She’s got away with rather more than she should in the past. But she’s been careful—damnably careful. We know what she’s been up to, but we’ve got no definite proof of it. We’ve got to tempt her with something big.”
“Something big being the specification of the new bomber?”
“Exactly. It’s got to be something big enough to induce her to take a risk—to come out into the open. And then—we’ve got her!”
Sir George grunted.
“Oh, well,” he said. “I dare say it’s all right. But suppose she won’t take the risk?”
“That would be a pity,” said Lord Mayfield. Then he added: “But I think she will. . . .”
He rose.
“Shall we join the ladies in the drawing room? We mustn’t deprive your wife of her bridge.”
Sir George grunted:
“Julia’s a damned sight too fond of her bridge. Drops a packet over it. She can’t afford to play as high as she does, and I’ve told her so. The trouble is, Julia’s a born gambler.”
Coming round the table to join his host, he said:
“Well, I hope your plan comes off, Charles.”
Two
In the drawing room conversation had flagged more than once. Mrs. Vanderlyn was usually at a disadvantage when left alone with members of her own sex. That charming sympathetic manner of hers, so much appreciated by members of the male sex, did not for some reason or other commend itself to women. Lady Julia was a woman whose manners were either very good or very bad. On this occasion she disliked Mrs. Vanderlyn, and was bored by Mrs. Macatta, and made no secret of her feelings. Conversation languished, and might have ceased altogether but for the latter.
Mrs. Macatta was a woman of great earnestness of purpose. Mrs. Vanderlyn she dismissed immediately as a useless and parasitic type. Lady Julia she tried to interest in a forthcoming charity entertainment which she was organizing. Lady Julia answered vaguely, stifled a yawn or two and retired into her own inner preoccupation. Why didn’t Charles and George come? How tiresome men were. Her comments became even more perfunctory as she became absorbed in her own thoughts and worries.
The three women were sitting in silence when the men finally entered the room.
Lord Mayfield thought to himself:
“Julia looks ill tonight. What a mass of nerves the woman is.”
Aloud he said:
“What about a rubber—eh?”
Lady Julia brightened at once. Bridge was as the breath of life to her.
Reggie Carrington entered the room at that minute, and a four was arranged. Lady Julia, Mrs. Vanderlyn, Sir George and young Reggie sat down to the card-table. Lord Mayfield devoted himself to the task of entertaining Mrs. Macatta.
When two rubbers had been played, Sir George looked ostentatiously at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“Hardly worth while beginning another,” he remarked.