“Anyone else?”

“Oh, yes-Leonard Carroll for you.”

“Greg, darling! Why for me?”

“The nearest approach to a fellow bright young thing.”

“My poor sweet! We’re both of us going to be thirty as soon as makes no difference.”

He laughed.

“A delightful age. If I may use a nursery metaphor, you have got past the bread and butter and begun on the cake.”

He could hear her blow him a kiss.

“Is Len really coming? Last time I saw him he told me he was booked up for months. What it is to be a popular Entertainer!”

“The popular Entertainer, isn’t it? I don’t think he’d care about that ‘a’ somehow. But-oh, yes, he’ll come. Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

He hung up, smiling pleasantly.

After a moment he dialled again.

“Is that the Luxe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh-has Mr. Leonard Carroll finished his turn in the cabaret?”

“Well, sir, I think he has, just about.”

“Could you send someone to tell him I’d like a word with him?… Gregory Porlock. I’ll hold on.”

He had a little time to wait. He beguiled it by humming the air of an old Scotch song. Presently the humming broke into words:

“The love that I had chosen

Was to my heart’s content.

The salt sea shall be frozen

Before that I repent.

Repent it will I never

Until the day I dee,

But the Lowlands of Holland

Have twined my love and me.”

A lovely minor air, rendered softly in an agreeable baritone. There was time to repeat the refrain before Leonard Carroll said, “Hullo!”

Gregory Porlock noted that he seemed a little out of breath.

“My dear fellow, I hope I haven’t hurried you.”

“Not at all. What do you want?”

“My dear fellow!” There was some good-humoured protest in Gregory’s tone. “But there-I expect you are up to the eyes. No time for me-eh?”

“I didn’t say that.”