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londe lovelies, was watching her out of the side of his eyes.
'He gives lots of parties, doesn't he?' she asked. 'Dick Allenby told me today that they are monthly affairs. He must be rich, of course, or he wouldn't keep our play running. Honestly, Mike, we must be losing a fortune at the Sheridan.'
Mike Hennessey took his cigar from his mouth and looked at the ash. 'I'm not losing a fortune,' he said. Then, most unexpectedly: 'Old Hervey Lyne a friend of yours, Mary?'
She denied the friendship with some vigour. 'No, he's my guardian. Why?'
Mike put back his cigar deliberately.
The orchestra had struck up a waltz. Mr Wirth was gyrating awkwardly, holding at arm's length a lady who was used to being held more tightly.
'I had an idea you were connected,' he said. 'Money-lender, wasn't he? That's how he made his stuff. Is Mr Allenby related to him?'
There was a certain significance in the question, and she flushed.
'Yes--his nephew.' She was a little disconcerted. 'Why?'
Mike looked past her at the dancers.
'Trying to pretend they enjoy it,' he said.' They're all getting gold-mounted handbags tonight--you'll get yours.'
'But why do you ask about Mr Lyne?' she persisted.
'Just wondering how well you knew the old man. No, he's never lent me money. He wants gilt-edged security and I've never had it. Moran's his banker.'
Mike was one of those disconcerting men whose speech followed the eccentric course of their thoughts.
He chuckled.
'Funny, that, Mary. Moran's his banker. You don't see the joke, but I do.'
She knew Leo Moran slightly. He was by way of being a friend of Dick Allenby's, and he was, she knew, a frequent visitor to the theatre, though he never came 'back stage'.
When Mike was being cryptic it was a waste of time trying to catch up with him. She looked at her watch.
'Will he be very annoyed if I leave soon? I've promised to go on to the Legation.'
He shook his head, took her ge