Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. John sat with his parents who arrived bubbling with excitement, bragging to everyone about Lucy’s first performance for them exclusively. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. I don’t care. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. ‘I see that Leonardo was right. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. But I may yet live to thwart them.
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