Abbott’s mouth closed like a trap.

He turned and, without nodding to Janet or Mark, sidled through the partly open door and then closed it. There were muffled footsteps in the hall before the front door closed. Footsteps followed on the gravel path. Roger stepped to the window and saw the party disappearing towards King’s Road.

Roger turned to face the room, his lips curved in a smile which held no amusement.

“Sweet, I’m terribly sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be an ass, you couldn’t help it,” said Janet. “If it had to happen I’m glad it was here.”

“I’m not and before I’m through I’ll let Chatworth know what I think. I might have expected it of Abbott, but not of Chatworth.” He lit a cigarette and stared at the teapot.

“I’ll make some tea,” Mark volunteered, now very subdued.

He took up the teatray and went out. He had lived at the Bell Street house for some months and was familiar with every room and, as he often said, he liked to amuse himself in the kitchen.

Janet came over and sat on the arm of Roger’s chair.

“Feeling pretty grim?”

Roger said : “Damnable! I — but Jan, what’s Mark been up to?” He gripped Janet’s arm. “I’m so woolly-headed I forgot all about that rumpus. He sent you a tea set as a present, didn’t he? I’m not dreaming, you did have the parcel this morning?”

“Ye-es,” admitted Janet. “I was afraid you were going to say something about that before.” She stood up, stepped to the mantelpiece and took down a small cup and saucer, a fragile, beautiful thing. Idly, she flicked it with her finger; the china rang sweet and clear. “This was just to hoodwink Abbott.”

Roger said : “Did he know that Abbott would be here?”

“Yes.”

“And that din —” Roger jumped to his feet and stared at her, his eyes blazing. “There was someone upstairs. I thought I heard a bump when he was playing the fool on the piano. Jan, what has Mark been up to?”