A long weekend with Gerry. And surely a chance to win her. She must at the very least be meaning to give him that opportunity — an opportunity when she would be free from the presence of that twerp Quartus.

 

* * * *

 

Hugh Quartus hung up and stood gazing at the telephone, a suspicious frown on his pale, slender-featured face. His dark, deep-set eyes were thoughtful.

Why now, at this late date, had she asked him? Was he a replacement for somebody who'd cried off? No - she must know dozens of socially gifted young toffs, who would fill that bill much better than be would. Like that rotter Carter.

So why? For there was certainly more to this invitation than met the eye. She didn't really want him to entertain this Australian cousin.

Hugh ran a thin hand through his rather long black hair. What was the matter with the confounded girl? Hot - cold, on - off, yes - no. She was really infuriating. He just didn't know why lie bothered.

Yes, he did. He knew quite well.

Not that he had any real chance. Once or twice he'd thought there was a glimmer of hope. But they always seemed to end up bickering.

He wished now he'd refused the invitation. He had half a mind to call back and tell her he'd forgotten a prior engagement. There'd be no pleasure in the visit. The bucolic Australian cousin sounded utterly grim. That idiot film star would be preening himself all over the place. He'd seen a Rex Ransom film once. Never again. Gerry hadn't said who the other guests would be; no doubt they'd all be equally ghastly.

One thing held him back from cancelling. Curiosity. He had to find out why she'd invited him. Though he was going to hate every minute of it. The only consolation was that the fact she'd asked him certainly meant she wouldn't be seeing Carter for a few days.


Chapter Four

Thursday dawned bright, crisp and very cold, with a coating of frost silvering the lawns of Alderley and tracing fantastic opaque patterns on the windows. A thin layer of ice covered the lake.

In the house the atmosphere at breakfast was markedly strained. The Earl - nervous as a schoolboy at the prospect of meeting his idol - managed only one egg, two rashers of bacon and three slices of toast. Gerry, who, at the last minute, had been beset by Terrible Doubts as to the wisdom of inviting her two beaux at the same time, spoke hardly at all; while the Countess was feeling decidedly disgruntled at the prospect of entertaining eight people, all of whom had been more or less foisted upon her.

After breakfast the Earl decided to try and calm himself by spending half an hour with his beloved gun collection. On his way upstairs he encountered Merryweather.

He stopped. Ah - everything ready for the guests?'

'Quite ready, my lord.'

'Where you puttin' people?'

A close observer would have noticed a momentary expression of astonishment appear on the butler's impassive and august features, it being the first time in thirty years that Lord Burford had taken the remotest interest in domestic matters.

'You wish me to appraise you of the disposition of guests in relation to sleeping accommodation, my lord?'

'That's it.'

'Well, my lord, Mr Haggermeir is in the Cedar bedroom, Mr Ransom in the Grey, Mr Gilbert in the Blue—'

'Who's Mr Gilbert?'

'Mr Arlington Gilbert.'

'Oh, yes, of course. Go on.'

'Miss Bradshaw and her husband in the Oak, Mr Carter in the White next door, the secretary person in the Regency, and Mr Quartus in the Green.'

'No one in the Royal suite.'

'No, my lord. It is not usually occupied except by special guests.'

'But we've got a special guest! Mr Ransom.'

Merryweather closed his eyes.