``Oh that's all right,'' said Tony. ``I've been into all that with her brother-in-law and have decided to make a settlement of five hundred a year. She has four hundred of her own and I understand Mr. Beaver has something.''
``It's a pity we can't put it in writing,'' said the solicitor, ``but that might constitute Conspiracy.''.
``Lady Brenda's word is quite good enough,'' said Tony. ``We like to protect our clients against even the most remote contingencies,'' said the lawyer with an air of piety, for he had not had Tony's opportunities to contract the habit of loving and trusting Brenda.
The fourth week-end after Brenda's departure from Hetton was fixed for Tony's infidelity. A suite was engaged at a seaside hotel (``We always send our clients there. The servants are well accustomed to giving evidence'') and private detectives were notified. ``It only remains to select a partner,'' said the solicitor; no hint of naughtiness lightened his gloom. ``We have on occasions been instrumental in accommodating our clients but there have been frequent complaints, so we find it best to leave the choice to them. Lately we had a particularly delicate case involving a man of very rigid morality and a certain diffidence. In the end his own wife consented to go with him and supply the evidence. She wore a red wig. It was quite successful.''
``I don't think that would do in this case.''
``No. Exactly. I was merely quoting it as a matter of interest.''
``I expect I shall be able to find someone,'' said Tony.
``I have no doubt of it,'' said the solicitor, bowing politely.
But when he came to discuss the question later with Jock, it did not seem so easy. ``It's not a thing one can ask every girl to do,'' he said, ``whichever way you put it. If you say it is merely a legal form it is rather insulting, and if you suggest going the whole hog it's rather fresh--suddenly, I mean, if you've never paid any particular attention to her before and don't propose to carry on with it afterwards ... Of course there's always old Sybil.''
But even Sybil refused. ``I'd do it like a shot any other time,'' she said, ``but just at the moment it wouldn't suit my book. There's a certain person who might hear about it and take it wrong ... There's an awfully pretty girl called Jenny Abdul Akbar. I wonder if you've met her.''
``Yes, I've met her.''
``Well won't she do?''
``No.''
``Oh dear, I don't know who to suggest.''
``We'd better go and study the market at the Sixty-four,'' said Jock.
They dined at Jock's house. Lately they had found it a little gloomy at Brown's for people tended to avoid anyone they knew to be unhappy. Though they drank a magnum of champagne they could not recapture the light-hearted mood in which they had last visited Sink Street. And then Tony said, ``Is it any good going there yet?''
``We may as well try. After all we aren't going there for enjoyment.''
``No, indeed.''
The doors were open at 64 Sink Street and the hand was playing to an empty ballroom. The waiters were eating at a little table in the corner. Two or three girls were clustered round the Jack-Pot machine losing shillings hard and complaining about the cold. They ordered a bottle of the Montmorency Wine Company's brandy and sat down to wait.
``Any of those do?'' asked Jock.
``I don't much care.''
``Better get someone you like. You've got to put in a lot of time with her.''
Presently Milly and Babs came downstairs.
``How are the postman's hats?'' said Milly.
They could not recognize the allusion.
``You are the two boys who were here last month, aren't you?''
``Yes. I'm afraid we were rather tight.''
``You don't say?'' It was very seldom that Milly and Babs met anyone who was quite sober during their business hours.
``Well come and sit down. How are you both?''
``I think I'm starting a cold,'' said Babs. ``I feel awful. Why can't they heat this hole, the mean hounds?''
Milly was more cheerful and swayed in her chair to the music. ``Care to dance?'' she said, and she and Tony began to shuffle across the empty floor.
``My friend is looking for a lady to take to the seaside,'' said Jock.
``What, this weather? That'll be a nice treat for a lonely girl.'' Babs sniffed into a little ball of handkerchief.
``It's for a divorce.''
``Oh, I see. Well, why doesn't he take Milly? She doesn't catch cold easy. Besides she knows how to behave at a hotel. Lots of the girls here are all right to have a lark with in town but you have to have a lady for a divorce.''
``D'you often get asked to do that?''
``Now and then. It's a nice rest--but it means so much talking and the gentlemen will always go on so about their wives.''
While they were dancing Tony came straight to business. ``I suppose you wouldn't care to come away for the week-end?'' he asked.
``Shouldn't mind,'' said Milly. ``Where?''
``I thought of Brighton.''
``Oh ... Is it for a divorce?''
``Yes.''
``You wouldn't mind if I brought my little girl with us? She wouldn't be any trouble.''
``Yes.''
``You mean you wouldn't mind?''
``I mean I should mind.''
``Oh ... You wouldn't think I had a little girl of eight, would you?''
``No.''
``She's called Winnie. I was only sixteen when I had her. I was the youngest of the family and our stepfather wouldn't leave any of us girls alone. That's why I have to work for a living. She lives with a lady at Finchley. Twenty-eight bob a week it costs me, not counting her clothes. She does like the seaside.''
``No,'' said Tony. ``I'm sorry but it would be quite impossible. We'll get a lovely present for you to take back to her.''
``All right ... One gentleman gave her a fairy bicycle for Christmas. She fell off and cut her knee ... When do we start?''
``Would you like to go by train or car?''
``Oh train. Winnie's sick if she goes in a car.''
``Winnie's not coming.''
``No, but let's go by train anyway.''
So it was decided that they should meet at Victoria on Saturday afternoon.
Jock gave Babs ten shillings and he and Tony went home. Tony had not slept much lately. He could not prevent himself, when alone, from rehearsing over and over in his mind all that had happened since Beaver's visit to Hetton; searching for clues he had missed at the time; wondering where something he had said or done might have changed the course of events; going back further to his earliest acquaintance with Brenda to find indications that should have made him more ready to understand the change that had come over her; reliving scene after scene in the last eight years of his life. All this kept him awake.
Two
There was a general rendezvous at the first class booking office. The detectives were the first, ten minutes before their time. They had been pointed out to Tony at the solicitor's office so that he should not lose them. They were cheerful middle-aged men in soft hats and heavy overcoats. They were looking forward to their week-end, for most of their daily work consisted in standing about at street corners watching front doors and a job of this kind was eagerly competed for in the office. In more modest divorces the solicitors were content to rely on the evidence of the hotel servants. The detectives were a luxury and proposed to treat themselves as such.
There was a slight fog in London that day. The station lamps were alight prematurely.
Tony came next, with Jock at his side, loyally there to see him off. They bought the tickets and waited. The detectives, sticklers for professional etiquette, made an attempt at self-effacement, studying the posters on the walls and peering from behind a pillar.
``This is going to be hell,'' said Tony.
It was ten minutes before Milly came. She emerged from the gloom with a porter in front carrying her suitcase and a child dragging back on her arm behind her. Milly's wardrobe consisted mainly of evening dresses, for during the day she usually spent her time sitting before a gas-fire in her dressing gown. She made an insignificant and rather respectable appearance. ``Sorry if I'm late,'' she said. ``Winnie here couldn't find her shoes. I brought her along too. I knew you wouldn't really mind. She travels on a half ticket.''