Why?'

'You'll see.'

'Look, what are you up to?'

'Never mind. Just don't be surprised at anything about me.'

'Ever thought of trying to make it in pictures?' Rex asked.

Paul laughed. 'Good heavens, no.'

'Why not think about it? You've got the looks and the physique.'

'For one thing, I can't act for toffee.'

'Don't let that stop you. It didn't stop me.'

'Oh, no false modesty, my dear chap,' Lord Burford said. 'You know you're one of the world's great actors.'

Rex gave an exaggerated start. 'Jumping Jehosophat! Hey, Cyrus.'

Nearby, Haggermeir, a dry martini in his hand, was conversing with Cecily. He looked up. 'Yeah?'

Rex said, 'Just say that again, will you, George - slowly and distinctly.'

'Certainly.' He did so.

'D'you hear that?' Rex asked triumphantly. ' "One of the world's great actors." George, you've made a buddy for life. You're the only person - apart from my ma - ever to say that. And she doesn't say it too often. Just once in a while to try and convince herself.'

'Be careful, Lord Burford,' Haggermeir said, 'that's the way to wreck his career. If Rexy once gets it into his head he can act he'll want to start proving it. And Hamlet's box office poison.'

Lord Burford scratched his head. 'I don't understand. You mean you don't think he's a good actor?'

'Wa-all.' Haggermeir shrugged.

'But you amaze me, my dear fellow. To me he's every bit as good as Errol Flynn.'

'Can't hold a candle to Rin Tin Tin, though,' Rex said with a grin.

Quite perplexed by this, the Earl looked round the room. Cecily had moved away and was talking to Maude Fry, while Gilbert had cornered Sebastian and was holding forth on the iniquities of literary agents, emphasising his points with a series of prods to the chest, at every one of which Sebastian took a little step backwards. Standing alone, his face set in a scowl, was Hugh.

Lord Burford was wondering if he should go across and talk to him, though the young man's demeanour didn't suggest he'd welcome this. The Earl was just wishing Gerry would come in when the door opened and she entered.

Everyone glanced automatically towards her - and there was an abrupt silence.

Gerry had changed out of the tweed suit and brogues she'd been wearing earlier and was now attired in a slinky, tight-fitting dress of black satin and very high-heeled shoes. Her face had been almost free of make-up before, but now her eyes were painted with mascara and her cheeks were rouged. Her hair was swept upwards to the top of her head. She was smoking a cigarette in a six-inch holder. She crossed the room in a sinuous, undulating walk.

Lord Burford closed his eyes, Paul coughed into a handkerchief and Hugh stared in horror.

Gerry made a straight line for Gilbert. He watched her approach with the fascination of a rabbit watching a snake. Gerry stopped in front of him, gave him a long, cool stare, slowly exhaled a lungful of smoke and said softly, 'Arlington Gilbert.'

She held out her hand in a regal gesture. Uncertain whether to shake it or kiss it, Gilbert compromised by taking it and giving a sort of half bow. 'At your service, Lady Geraldine.'

'I have long been an ardent admirer of your work, Mr Gilbert—'

Then, as he straightened up, gazing at her with a mixture of gratification, alarm, admiration and bewilderment, she broke off and said in a decidedly frosty voice, 'Mr Gilbert, you are looking at me as though I were something the cat had dragged through a hedge backwards. Why?'

Gilbert gave a start. 'I beg your pardon, Lady Geraldine.