'Tomorrow,' Martin answered, 'at Westminister registry office. We take the afternoon plane for Paris.'
'My new car,' chuckled Stannard, 'is downstairs. Just as it was a fortnight ago. There's no petrol for long distances. But suppose the four of us drive out to Virginia Water and see the sun come up?'
There was almost a scramble to get up. Much attention from Jenny and Ruth was bestowed on H.M, who endured this with a stuffed and stoical look; like a world-weary Curtius Merrivale. Then it was broken.
'Captain Drake,' said Lady Brayle, getting up from her chair beside the window and adjusting her shoulders.
Dead silence.
Martin instantly left the group and went over towards the window so that he could look her in the eye. 'Yes, Lady Brayle?'
'With regard to your proposed marriage with my granddaughter.'
'Yes.'
They looked at each other for a full minute, which can be a very long space if you time it The reason was that Lady Brayle could not speak. She was shaken; emotion tore her, but the lips would not move. Her large, rather flabby hands were folded in front of her. Her shoulders were back. Her eyes wandered in search of determination. Then came firm resolve, and clearly she spoke.
'The Gloucesters, I am informed, are a very honourable regiment.' There was a short silence.
'Very,' agreed Martin. He reflected for a moment. 'But in my opinion the Brigade of Guards, particularly the Grenadier Guards, must always rank highest of all.'
Then, startlingly, tears came into the woman's eyes.
'Thank you, Captain Drake.'
'Not at all, Lady Brayle.'
They did not even shake hands. They understood.
And so, as the clock of St. Jude's rang out the hour of four, and white dawn showed faintly behind Kensington, the policeman was on his way back through Moreston Square. The car which had been standing at the kerb was gone. But the windows of Miss Callice's flat were still lighted.
A rumbling voice floated down clearly from those open windows.
'So they framed him, Sophie,' the voice said. 'And the only reason they framed him was because he killed one of 'em in a duel outside the War Office. But they indicted that fine character on a charge of promotin' fake companies to get Aztec gold out of Mexico, and three times they chucked him into the can. I tell you, Sophie, it was a cry in' scandal against the law!'
The policeman looked up at those windows thoughtfully. But, after all, duels outside the War Office are comparatively rare. And it was Miss Ruth Callice's flat. The policeman smiled and sauntered on.
