"Moropulos is in trouble with Steppe. He has been drinking and some
of Steppe's watchers have reported that he made an ass of himself,
gave away some business secrets, and that sort of thing. Steppe is
naturally furious and Moropulos wants to prove an alibi."
"That he was dining with us, how absurd! Where?"
"In my flat."
She surveyed him steadily. He was unusually excited. She had never
seen Ronnie like that before. Nothing ever ruffled him.
"Of course, I can't tell such a lie, even to save your friend," she
said. "I was dining at home, although father has such a wretched
memory that he won't be sure whether I was here or not."
"Where did you meet the Paynters, did they call for you?" he asked
eagerly and she shook her head.
"No, I met them at Queens Hall. I was late and they had gone into
the hall. But that is beside the point. I am not helping you in
this matter."
"But you must, you must," he was frenzied. "Moropulos knows--he saw
you come into the flat--and come out."
There was a dead silence.
"When--on that night?"
She walked across the room, her hands clasped behind her. Ronnie had
expected hysteria--he marveled at her calm.
"Very well," she said at last. "I dined with you and Moropulos. You
had better invent another lady. Let us be decent, even in our
inventions. And Mr. Moropulos entertained us with talk about--what?"
"Anything," nervously, "I know that you think I'm a brute--I can't
tell you what I think about myself."
"I can save you the trouble. You think you are in danger and you are
hating me because I am the cause."
"Beryl!"
She smiled. "Perhaps I am being uncharitable. The complex of this
situation doesn't allow for very clear thinking. I may take another
view next week. Will you post this letter for me as you go out?"
He went down the stairs dumbfounded. Her quietness, the unshaken
poise of her, staggered him. "Will you post this letter!"--as if his
visit had been an ordinary call. He glanced at the envelope. It was
addressed to a Bond Street milliner, and on the back flap was
scribbled: "Send the blue toque also."
"H'm," said Ronnie as he dropped the letter into the post box. He
felt in some indefinable way that he was being slighted.