"I've been considerably interested in your conversation," said he, "and
as you've been frank, I'll be frank too. I knew Mrs. Deverill's mother,
Lady Carstairs, very well years ago, and of course Mrs. Deverill when
she was a child. Deverill I came across once in Egypt--he had been sent
on a diplomatic mission to Teheran. As for our being invited on such
slight acquaintance, little Mrs. Deverill has the reputation of being
the only really successful celebrity hunter in England. She inherited
the faculty from her mother, who entertained the whole world. We're sure
to find archbishops, and eminent actors, and illustrious divorcees asked
to meet us. That's one thing. But why I, who loathe country house
parties and children and Christmas as much as Biggleswade, am going down
there to-day, I can no more explain than you can. It's a devilish odd
coincidence."
The three men looked at one another. Suddenly McCurdie shivered and drew
his fur coat around him.
"I'll thank you," said he, "to shut that window."
"It is shut," said Doyne.
"It's just uncanny," said McCurdie, looking from one to the other.
"What?" asked Doyne.
"Nothing, if you didn't feel it."
"There did seem to be a sudden draught," said Professor Biggleswade.
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