Antony Latter made a mental note of the fact that the charlatan had really frightened Lois. He hadn’t thought it could be done, but Memnon had evidently done it. It didn’t occur to him then that her change of colour had anything to do with himself.

They were being served again. When their waiter had come and gone she said quite low,

“It was rather horrid.”

“Don’t tell me he got fresh! But I’m sure you were more than equal to the occasion. Snubbing a magician would be a new experience-and what else does one live for? You’re not going to tell me you lost your nerve?”

“It wasn’t anything like that. And I’m serious-it was horrid.”

His eyebrows rose.

“Don’t tell me he raised the ghosts of all the unfortunates whom you have stabbed with a glance or frozen with a frown!”

She said very low,

“I’m serious. I told you so.”

“And you expect me to encourage you, put straws in both our hairs-they’ll spoil your wave-sit on the floor and moan to the appropriately barbaric strain which the orchestra is at present discoursing? We shall be in all the gossip notes, if that is what you want-‘Major Antony Latter, who has just joined the publishing firm founded by his famous great-uncle Ezekiel-’ ”

She interrupted him in a gentle, hurt voice.

“I want to tell you about it. Won’t you listen?”

She was pale and appealing. He hadn’t ever seen her like that before.

“What on earth did the fellow say to you?”

She dropped her voice until he could only just hear the words.

“He said-I’ve got to be careful-about poison.”

Antony sat back in his chair.

“What an extraordinary thing to say!”

“Yes, wasn’t it? Not very nice.”

“Not a bit. What made him say a thing like that?”

Her colour was coming back-the pure, bright colour which was her greatest beauty. Yet without it she had been younger.

Antony thought, “That’s curious.”