Then, getting in beside me, he said, ‘Mind you, it’s not a new situation, far from it. Lady Pickle kept the key of the Embassy garden in Rome and gave a garden party there weeks after the Betteridges had arrived. Sir George looked out of the window and saw her receiving the whole of the Embassy black list. Lady Praed opened a junk shop in the Faubourg here and nabbed people as they were going into the Embassy. Lady Pike went back to Vienna and then I seem to think she lived in a tree like a bird. English ambassadresses are usually on the dotty side and leaving their embassies drives them completely off their rockers. Alfred’s statement is out in the evening papers – perfect, very dignified.’ Alfred had said that Lady Leone not being well enough to travel, he was, of course, delighted to lend her the secretary’s flat until she was better. ‘You needn’t worry, Fanny, the sitting ambassador holds all the cards – he can’t help winning in the end.’
‘If he doesn’t win soon it may be the end,’ I said.
‘Yes, it’s time she went. I lunched at Boodle’s just now – Alfred’s enemies are beginning to crow – you may imagine. Daily Post in great demand there.’
‘We utterly count on you, Davey.’
‘Quite right. As soon as we get back I must have a very strong cocktail and then I’ll go straight to Pauline.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’ve got an ambassadress from some invented country (the real ones are all away still) coming to call on me at six. That fits in very well and we’ll see you at dinner.’
As I sat with a little rat of a woman in black velvet with jet sleeves (dressed for the thé dansant I thought until I remembered what an old-fashioned notion that was), I heard the usual irritating sounds of distant laughter, punctuated now by Davey’s well-known and rather specially piercing shriek. He was evidently enjoying himself. I found it even more difficult than usual to concentrate on the thé dansant lady’s domestic problems. ‘The Americans get them all because they don’t mind what they pay.’
Davey reappeared in a black tie, at dinner-time.
‘Nobody to meet me?’ he said, seeing three cocktail glasses only.
‘I thought you would be tired after the journey.’
‘Now that I’ve got this extra kidney I’m never tired. No matter.’
‘Whom would you like to see – anybody special? A lot of people are still away but Philip could find somebody for tomorrow, I expect, and of course, Davey, you must ask your own friends while you’re here.’
‘Well, tomorrow –’ a little shade of embarrassment perhaps – ‘I said I’d take pot luck with Pauline.’
‘Don’t tell me poor Mrs Jungfleisch has got to stagger here with a pot for a whole dinner party now?’
‘Only for Pauline and me. The others will dine at home and look in after.’
‘Perhaps you’d like my chef to send something up?’ I said, sarcastically.
‘Now, Fanny, don’t be cross and suspicious. This is only a little exploratory operation – if I’m to effect a cure I must know all about the case, mustn’t I?’
‘Mm. Who was there?’
‘They came and went – awfully elegant and pretty and funny, one must hand them that. I’d forgotten about French clothes being so different. They think it was very brave of you to beard Mrs Jungfleisch in her own motor.’
‘She was in my own courtyard. Do they talk about me?’ I said, not best pleased.
‘My dear, you are topic A. They know absolutely everything you do, which dressmaker you’ve got an arrangement with, what the arrangement is, what clothes you have ordered (“ça, alors!”), what impression Alfred makes at the Quai (“évidement ce n’est pas Sire Louis”) and so on. When they heard I was your uncle they were all over me. Thought to be a new feather in Pauline’s cap, getting somebody who is actually staying with you and a relation to boot. By the way, Philip Cliffe-Musgrave – I suppose he is on your side? If you ask me he has been in communication with the enemy.’
‘That’s inevitable under the circumstances.’ Alfred now appeared and we went in to dinner.
The next morning was spent trying to get in touch with Davey’s Paris friends of olden times. He had lost his foreign address book, it seemed. I sent for Philip to assist; he looked carefully at the names but said he had never heard of any of them in spite of having had four years of intensive social life all over France. None of them were in the telephone book. ‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ said Philip, ‘you wouldn’t believe how many people here aren’t. There is the pneumatique, you see, for urgent messages.’
He and Davey sat on my bed surrounded by books of reference. ‘To begin with,’ said Philip, ‘we’d better consult Katie.’ Katie was Miss Freeman of the Embassy telephone exchange, a great dear, soon to become a key figure in our lives. He took my telephone and said, ‘Have a look at your list, Katie, will you, see if you’ve got any of these people and ring me back.’ He read out the names of Davey’s friends. A few minutes later the bell rang and Philip answered. ‘None? Not even on G.P.O.? Thanks, Katie.’
‘What is G.P.O.?’ I asked.
‘Garden Party Only. It runs into thousands. If they’re not on that it means they’ve never set foot here. Now we must start on these directories.’
At this point Davey took his list back and jettisoned several mysterious figures, saying he had not really known them so very well or even liked them so very much. He could die happy without having seen them again. But he absolutely clung to three who must be found at all costs. They were a Marquis, an Academician and a doctor.
