You know, the way love can change a fellow is really frightful to contemplate. This chappie before me, who spoke in that absolutely careless way of macaroons and limado, was the man I had seen in happier days telling the headwaiter at Claridge’s exactly how he wanted the chef to prepare the sole frite au gourmet aux champignons , and saying he would jolly well sling it back if it wasn’t just right. Ghastly! Ghastly!

A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn’t been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them, and Mabel hopped it.

“Well?” said Bingo rapturously.

I took it that he wanted my opinion of the female poisoner who had just left us.

“Very nice,” I said.

He seemed dissatisfied.