“I wonder which they are—our people, I mean,” said Tuppence. “What about that Columbine over there with the red Mephistopheles?”
“I fancy the wicked Mandarin and the lady who calls herself a Battleship—more of a fast Cruiser, I should say.”
“Isn’t he witty?” said Tuppence. “All done on a little drop of drink! Who’s this coming in dressed as the Queen of Hearts—rather a good get up, that.”
The girl in question passed into the booth next to them accompanied by her escort who was “the gentleman dressed in newspaper” from Alice in Wonderland. They were both wearing masks—it seemed to be rather a common custom at the Ace of Spades.
“I’m sure we’re in a real den of iniquity,” said Tuppence with a pleased face. “Scandals all round us. What a row everyone makes.”
A cry, as of protest, rang out from the booth next door and was covered by a man’s loud laugh. Everybody was laughing and singing. The shrill voices of the girls rose above the booming of their male escorts.
“What about that shepherdess?” demanded Tommy. “The one with the comic Frenchman. They might be our little lot.”
“Anyone might be,” confessed Tuppence. “I’m not going to bother. The great thing is that we are enjoying ourselves.”
“I could have enjoyed myself better in another costume,” grumbled Tommy. “You’ve no idea of the heat of this one.”
“Cheer up,” said Tuppence. “You look lovely.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Tommy. “It’s more than you do. You’re the funniest little guy I’ve ever seen.”