“Seen her?” I said. “What, Elizabeth Vickers? How do you mean, you’ve seen her? She isn’t down here.”

“Yes, she is. I suppose she’s staying with relations or something. I was down at the post office, seeing if there were any letters, and we met in the doorway.”

“What happened?”

“She cut me dead.”

He started “ The Rosary ” again, and stubbed his finger on a semiquaver.

“Bertie,” he said, “you ought never to have brought me here. I must go away.”

“Go away? Don’t talk such rot. This is the best thing that could have happened. It’s a most amazing bit of luck, her being down here. This is where you come out strong.”

“She cut me.”