Bobby stared.

"The dirty dog!" he exclaimed. "Well, I'm damned! That at the last, after
everything!"

"Yes, just that," remarked Clancey. "So you introduced him to Madame de
Corantin?"

"Not because I wanted to," replied Bobby.

"And she has been with him ever since?"

"Oh, I don't know that."

"But she was with him last night at the Savoy?"

"Yes. Damn him! I must be off now. Clancey, really, I'm awfully obliged
to you."

"Well, may I come to Claridge's tomorrow? I promise I won't cut you
out--I only want to make her acquaintance. She must be such a charming
woman."

"All right. Look in after lunch," Bobby answered, and, seizing the huge
parcel which contained his flowers, he led the way out of the room and
thence out of the flat to the cab which was waiting for him.

Had Bobby looked out of the window of that cab he would have been
surprised. Clancey was running down the street towards Piccadilly as fast
as his legs could carry him.