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Cole-Mortimer, and she had fallen in with her patron's views as readily as she had agreed to pose as a friend of Meredith's.
Jaggs's retiring methods, but there was no sign of him, and she did not wait in the drizzling night to make any closer inspection. Mrs. Cole-Mortimer had not disguised the possibility of Jean Briggerland being at the club, and they found her with a gay party of young people, sitting in one of the recesses.
Lydia turned at the voice. "Oh, the bed you mean," she made a little face. "Heaven knows. It occurred to me this morning that some person, out of mistaken kindness, had started to disinfect the room it was only this morning that I recalled the little boy who was ill and had overdone it." "They've certainly overdone it," said Jean grimly. "I wonder what poor Mrs. Cole-Mortimer will say.
She shrugged her shoulders. "They are always about together. I saw them strolling on the lawn last night till quite a late hour, and I was so scared lest Mrs. Cole-Mortimer noticed it too " "Which means that Mrs. Cole-Mortimer did not notice it. You're clever, Jean! Even as you invent you make preparations to refute any evidence that the other side can produce. I don't believe a word you say."
They drove back part of the way they had come, on to the peninsula of Cap Martin and she had a glimpse of beautiful villas between the pines and queer little roads that led into mysterious dells. Lydia, who thought that this was Mrs. Cole-Mortimer's own demesne, was delighted. "You are lucky to have a beautiful home like this, Mrs. Cole-Mortimer," she said, "it must be heavenly living here."
Cole-Mortimer was a representative of a numerous class of women who live so close to the border-line which separates good society from society which is not quite as good, that the members of either set thought she was in the other. She had a small house where she gave big parties, and nobody quite knew how this widow of an Indian colonel made both ends meet.
By some extraordinary means he had kept her out of the Meredith case and she had not been called as a witness at the inquest. "I am going to Mrs. Cole-Mortimer's to tea," she said. "Mrs. Cole-Mortimer?" he said quickly. "How do you come to know that lady?" "Really, Mr. Glover, you are almost impertinent," she smiled in spite of her annoyance.
"Go back to London, my dear?" said Mrs. Cole-Mortimer, shocked. "What a a rash notion! Why it is freezing in town and foggy and ... and I really can't let you go back!" Mrs. Cole-Mortimer was agitated at the very thought. Her own good time on the Riviera depended upon Lydia staying. Jean had made that point very clear.
It was the property of an impecunious English nobleman who made a respectable income from letting the vessel on hire. Mrs. Cole-Mortimer had seemed surprised at the reasonable fee demanded for two months' use until she had seen the boat the day after her arrival at Cap Martin. She had pictured a large and commodious yacht; she found a reasonably sized motor-launch with a whale-deck cabin.
Lydia was dressing for her journey when Mrs. Cole-Mortimer came into the saloon where Jean was writing. "There's a telephone call from Monte Carlo," she said. "Somebody wants to speak to Lydia." Jean jumped up. "I'll answer it," she said. The voice at the other end of the wire was harsh and unfamiliar to her. "I want to speak to Mrs. Meredith." "Who is it?" asked Jean.
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