rich and great. Mrs Chaloner Barrett was an American widow of vast wealth; she not only entertained expensively, but also gambled. And after all, the dinners and suppers and the two cabaret shows that accompanied them were only provided to induce people to lose their money at the tables.
"Got a good table for me, Paco?" said Eva Barrett.
"The best." His eyes, fine, dark Argentine eyes, expressed his admiration of Mrs Barrett's opulent, ageing charms. This also was business. "You've seen Stella?"
"Of course. Three times. It's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen."
"Sandy comes every night."
"I want to be in at the death. She's bound to kill herself one of these nights and I don't want to miss that if I can help it."
Paco laughed.
"She's been such a success, we're going to keep her on another month. All I ask is that she shouldn't kill herself till the end of August. After that she can do as she likes."
"Oh, God, have I got to go on eating trout and roast chicken every night till the end of August?" cried Sandy.
"You brute, Sandy," said Eva Barrett. "Come on, let's go in to dinner. I'm starving."
Paco Espinel asked the barman if he'd seen Cotman. The barman said he'd had a drink with Mr Westcott.
"Oh, well, if he comes in here again, tell him I want a word with him."
Mrs Barrett paused at the top of the steps that led down to the terrace long enough for the press representative, a little haggard woman with an untidy head, to come up with her note-book. Sandy whispered the names of the guests. It was a representative Riviera party. There was an English Lord and his Lady, long and lean both of them, who were prepared to dine with anyone who would give them a free meal. They were certain to be as right as drums before midnight. There was a gaunt Scotch woman, with a face like a Peruvian mask that has been battered by the storms of ten centuries, and her English husband. Though a broker by profession, he was bluff, military, and hearty. He gave you an impression of such integrity that you were almost more sorry for him than for yourself when the good thing he had put you on to as a special favour turned out to be a dud. There was an Italian countess who was neither Italian nor a countess, but played a beautiful game of bridge, and there was a Russian prince who was ready to make Mrs Barrett a princess and in the meantime sold champagne, motor-cars, and Old Masters on commission. A dance was in progress, and Mrs Barrett, waiting for it to end, surveyed with a look which her short upper lip made scornful the serried throng on the dance floor. It was a gala night and the dining tables were crowded together. Beyond the terrace the sea was calm and silent. The music stopped and the head waiter, affably smiling, came up to guide her to her table. She swept down the steps with majestic gait.
"We shall have quite a good view of the dive," she said as she sat down.
"I like to be next door to the tank," said Sandy, "so that I can see her face."
"Is she pretty?" asked the Countess.
"It's not that. It's the expression of her eyes. She's scared to death every time she does it."
"Oh, I don't believe that," said the City gendeman, Colonel Goodhart by name, though no one had ever discovered how he came by the title. "I mean, the whole bally stunt's only a trick. There's no danger really, I mean."
"You don't know what you're talking about. Diving from that height in as little water as that, she's got to turn like a flash the moment she touches the water. And if she doesn't do it right she's bound to bash her head against the bottom and break her back."
"That's just what I'm telling you, old boy," said the Colonel, "it's a trick. I mean, there's no argument."
"If there's no danger there's nothing to it, anyway," said Eva Barrett. "It's over in a minute. Unless she's risking her life it's the biggest fraud of modern times. Don't say we've come to see this over and over again and it's only a fake."
"Pretty well everything is. You can take my word for that."
"Well, you ought to know," said Sandy.
If it occurred to the Colonel that this might be a nasty dig he admirably concealed it. He laughed.
"I