“Why?” Troy repeated. “Oh, I know! Isn’t he very well off?”
“You may say so. In the stinking-of-it department. Mr. Onassis Colossus, in fact.”
“I remember, now. Isn’t he her lover?”
“That’s it.”
“All is made clear to me. I think. Do read it, darling. Aloud.”
“All of it?”
“Please.”
“Here goes,” said Alleyn and read:
Dear Mrs. Alleyn,
I hope that is the correct way to address you. Should I perhaps have used your most celebrated soubriquet?
I write to ask if from November 1st you and your husband will be my guests at Waihoe Lodge, an island retreat I have built on a lake in New Zealand. It is recently completed and I dare to hope it will appeal to you. The situation is striking and I think I may say that my guests will be comfortable. You would have, as your studio, a commodious room, well lit, overlooking the lake, with a view of distant mountains and, of course, complete freedom as to time and privacy.
“He sounds like a land-and-estate agent — all mod. cons. and the usual offices. Pray continue,” said Troy.
I must confess that this invitation is the prelude to another and that is for you to paint a portrait of Madame Isabella Sommita, who will be staying with us at the time proposed. I have long hoped for this. In my opinion, and I am permitted to say in hers also, none of her portraits hitherto has given us the true “Sommita.”
We are sure that a “Troy” would do so quite marvelously!
Please say you approve the proposal. We will arrange transport, as my guest, of course, by air, and will settle details as soon as we hear, as I so greatly hope, that you will come. I shall be glad if you will be kind enough to inform me of your terms.
I shall write, under separate cover, to your husband, whom we shall be delighted to welcome with you to the Lodge.