Katherine laughed.
“ ‘One of the smartest hostesses on the Riviera this season is Viscountess Tamplin, who has a villa at Cap Martin. Her cousin, Miss Grey, who recently inherited a vast fortune in a most romantic manner, is staying with her there.’ ”
“That is the one I wanted,” said Miss Viner. “I expect there has been a picture of you in one of the papers that I have missed; you know the kind of thing. Mrs. Somebody or other Jones-Williams, at the something or other Point-to-Point, usually carrying a shooting-stick and having one foot lifted up in the air. It must be a trial to some of them to see what they look like.”
Katherine did not answer. She was smoothing out the cutting with her finger, and her face had a puzzled, worried look. Then she drew the second letter out of its envelope and mastered its contents once more. She turned to her friend.
“Miss Viner? I wonder—there is a friend of mine, someone I met on the Riviera, who wants very much to come down and see me here.”
“A man?” said Miss Viner.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“He is secretary to Mr. Van Aldin, the American millionaire.”
“What is his name?”
“Knighton. Major Knighton.”
“H’m—secretary to a millionaire. And wants to come down here. Now, Katherine, I am going to say something to you for your own good. You