couple of desks, and chairs scattered around. The walls were decorated with pictures of people dancing and fencing, or standing holding a sticker, with a large one of Miltan in some kind of a uniform, and with swords and daggers hanging here and there. I knew the picture was Miltan because Carla Lovchen took me across and introduced me to him and his wife. He was small and thin, next door to a runt, but wiry-looking, and had black eyes and hair and a moustache which pointed due east and west. He looked and acted harassed, and as soon as he shook hands with me darted off somewhere. His wife, in spite of her New York clothes and her 1938 hair-do, looked like one of those coloured pictures in the National Geographic entitled 'Peasant Woman of Wczibrrcy Leading a Bear to Church.' At that, she was handsome if you like the type, and she had shrewd eyes.
I went and stood by a glass cabinet which displayed an assortment of curios and implements, among them a long, thin rapier with no edge and a blunt point which apparently wasn't a rapier, since a card leaning against it said: 'This йpйe was used by Nikola Miltan at Paris in 1931 in winning the International Championship.' I looked around. He was across the room, chinning with a broad-shouldered six-footer maybe thirty years old, with a slightly pushed-in nose and a vacant look to go with it. I looked further. If by any chance Wolfe's long-lost daughter hadn't pinched Driscoll's diamonds, it was probable that the person who had was among those present. Carla Lovchen's voice came, beside me:
'But you… you aren't doing anything.'
I shrugged. 'Nothing I can do. Not right now. What's Miltan waiting for?'
'Mr Driscoll isn't here yet.'
'Did he say he would be here?'
'Of course he did. He only agreed to wait until now to go to the police.'
'Who's that guy Miltan's talking to?'
She looked. 'His name is Gill. He's a dancing client. It was he who was with Belinda Reade yesterday when they saw Neya in the hall. They say they did.'
'Which one's Belinda Reade?'
'Over there standing by a chair. The beautiful one, with hair like yellow amber, talking to the young man.'
'Check. Baby doll with a new silk dress and pipe earrings. Not to mention the young man. I seem to recognize him from perhaps the movies. Who is he?'
'Donald Barrett.'
'The son of John P. Barrett of Barrett & De Russy, who got you girls a job here?'
'Yes.'
'Who are those other girls?'
'Well… the three in the corner, and the one sitting by the end of the desk, teach dancing. That one talking now with Mrs Miltan is Zorka.'
I boosted the brows. 'Zorka?'
'Yes, the famous couturiиre. She charges four hundred dollars for a dress. That would be over twenty thousand dinars.'
'She looks like a picture in our Bible at home of the dame that cut off Samson's hair. I forget her name, but it wasn't Zorka. Does she sell diamonds at her place?'
'I don't know.'
'She wouldn't those, anyway. Who's the chinless wonder with his-hold it. Miltan's going to make a speech.'
The йpйe champion, with Percy Ludlow standing beside him, was in the middle of the room trying to collect eyes. Some of them didn't get it and he claimed their attention by clapping his hands. Two of them went on talking and his wife shushed them.
'If you please.' He sounded as harassed as he looked. 'Ladies and gentlemen. If you please, Mr Driscoll has not arrived. It is very disagreeable, asking you to wait. He should be here. Mr Ludlow has something to say.'
Percy Ludlow looked around at the faces with complete aplomb. 'Well,' he observed in a conversational tone, 'really, I don't quite see that we should hang around waiting for Driscoll. It's his row, you know. I've an explanation to make that I'd like you all to hear, because all of you know of Driscoll's absurd accusation regarding Miss Tormic. You'll understand it better if you'll observe the clothes I'm wearing. This is the suit I had on yesterday. Didn't any of you notice anything peculiar about it?'
'Certainly,' said a voice promptly, fluttering the r like a moth on a marathon. 'I did.'
He smiled at her. 'What did you notice, Madame Zorka?'
'I noticed that the material is of the same pattern, perfectly, as the one Mr Driscoll was wearing.'
Two additional female voices chimed in simultaneously, 'So did I,' and other voices murmured.
Ludlow nodded. 'Apparently Driscoll agrees with me on tailors.' His tone sounded as if there were something about that faintly deplorable. 'The fabric is identical. I wondered that none of you mentioned it yesterday. Perhaps you did, but not to me. Of course the coincidence explains why when Miss Tormic went to my locker to get my cigarettes from my coat, and Driscoll saw her, he thought the coat was his own. My locker adjoined his.'
There was a round of ejaculations. Eyes moved from his face to that of Neya Tormic and back again. I felt Carla Lovchen's fingers gripping my elbow, but I didn't react, because I was trying to keep my brain cleared for action.
