“She can’t be blamed for her uncle.”
“— Who sups alone with strange men in public restaurants. —”
“I explained that.”
“You may have explained it. You certainly did not excuse it or make it a whit less outrageous. You cannot pretend that you really imagine that an engaged girl is behaving with perfect correctness when she allows a man she has only just met to take her to supper at the Savoy, even if she did know him slightly years and years ago. It is very idyllic to suppose that a childhood acquaintance excuses every breach of decorum, but I was brought up to believe otherwise. I don’t wish to be vulgar, but what it amounts to is that this girl was having supper—supper! In my days girls were in bed at supper-time!—with a strange man who picked her up at a theatre!”
Derek shifted uneasily. There was a part of his mind which called upon him to rise up and challenge the outrageous phrase and demand that it be taken back. But he remained silent. The imp-colossus was too strong for him. She is quite right, said the imp. That is an unpleasant but accurate description of what happened. He looked at the clock again, and wished for the hundredth time that the cab would come. Jill’s photograph smiled at him from beside the clock. He looked away, for, when he found his eyes upon it, he had an odd sensation of baseness, as if he were playing some one false who loved and trusted him.
“If you were an ordinary man like hundreds of the idle young men one meets in London, I would have nothing to say. I dislike the girl intensely, but I would not interfere in what would be your own private business. No doubt there are plenty of sets in society where it matters very little what sort of a woman a man marries. But if you have a career, especially in politics, you know as well as I do that a suitable wife means everything. You are a public figure even now. In a few years you will be a very big public figure. That means that your wife will have every eye upon her. And what will she be? A minx!” said Lady Underhill viciously.
Once more Derek stirred uneasily, and once more he remained silent. A gleam came into Lady Underhill’s black eyes. All her life she had been a fighter, and experience had taught her to perceive when she was winning. She blessed the dilatory cabman.
“Well, I am not going to say any more,” she said, getting up and buttoning her glove. “I will leave you to think it over. All I will say is that, though I only met her yesterday, I can assure you that I am quite confident that this girl is just the sort of harum-scarum, so-called ‘modern’ girl who is sure some day to involve herself in a really serious scandal. I don’t want her to be in a position to drag you into it as well. Yes, Parker, what is it? Is Sir Derek’s cab here?”
The lantern-jawed Parker had entered softly, and was standing deferentially in the doorway. There was no emotion on his face beyond the vague sadness which a sense of what was correct made him always wear like a sort of mask when in the presence of those of superior station.
“The cab will be at the door very shortly, m’lady. If you please, Sir Derek, a policeman has come with a message.”
“A policeman?”
“With a message from Mr Rooke.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have had a few words of conversation with the constable, sir,” said Parker sadly, “and I understand from him that Mr Rooke and Miss Mariner have been arrested.”
“Arrested! What are you talking about?”
“Mr Rooke desired the officer to ask you to be good enough to step round and bail them out!”
The gleam in Lady Underhill’s eye became a flame, but she controlled her voice.
“Why were Miss Mariner and Mr Rooke arrested, Parker?”
“As far as I can gather, m’lady, Miss Mariner struck a man in the street with a stick, and they took both her and Rooke to the Chelsea Police Station.”