“I say, Tommy, we shall get into trouble.”
“No, we shan’t. I shall behave quite like the little gentleman. But I bet you that by the end of luncheon I shall be startling you.”
All protests being thus overborne, a quarter of an hour later saw Tommy and Tuppence comfortably ensconced at a corner table in the Gold Room of the Blitz.
Tommy ran his fingers lightly over the Menu.
“Pilaff de Homard and Grilled Chicken for me,” he murmured.
Tuppence also made her selection, and the waiter moved away.
“So far, so good,” said Tommy. “Now for a more ambitious venture. What beautiful legs that girl in the short skirt has—the one who has just come in.”
“How was that done, Thorn?”
“Beautiful legs impart a particular vibration to the floor which is received by my hollow cane. Or, to be honest, in a big Restaurant there is nearly always a girl with beautiful legs standing in the doorway looking for her friends, and with short skirts going about, she’d be sure to take advantage of them.”
The meal proceeded.
“The man two tables from us is a very wealthy profiteer, I fancy,” said Tommy carelessly.
“Pretty good,” said Tuppence appreciatively. “I don’t follow that one.”
“I shan’t tell you how it’s done every time. It spoils my show. The head waiter is serving champagne three tables off to the right. A stout woman in black is about to pass our table.”