Fielding chuckled quietly, and answered: 

’Unlikely, I think.  Clever, of course, the man is, but it is never the work he does that pleases him, but the pose after the work’s done.  That’s fatal.’

Drake looked at Fielding curiously.

‘That’s a criticism which would never have occurred to me.’  He glanced at his watch.  ‘We have five minutes.  Shall we walk round the Gardens?’ Fielding chuckled again and assented.  He saw the curtain rising on his comedy.  For five minutes they paced up and down the pavement, with an interchange of simple questions on Drake’s part, and discriminating answers on Fielding’s—­answers not wholly to encourage, but rather to promote a state of doubt, so much more interesting to the spectator.

When after the five minutes had elapsed they entered the house, they found that Mrs. Willoughby had arrived.

Clarice introduced Stephen Drake to Mrs. Willoughby.  He saw a woman apparently in the early twenties, tall, with a broad white forehead, under masses of unruly black hair, and black eyebrows shadowing eyes of the colour of sea-shallows on an August morning.  The eyes were hard, he noticed, and the lips pressed together; she bowed to him without a word.  Hostility was evidently to be expected, and Drake wondered at this, for he knew Mrs. Willoughby to be Clarice’s chief friend and confidante.  Mrs. Willoughby fired the first shot of the combat as soon as they had sat down to lunch.  She spoke of unscrupulous cruelty shown by African explorers, and appealed to Drake for correction, she said, but her tone implied corroboration.

‘I have known cases,’ he admitted, ’here and there.  You can’t always prevent it.  The pioneer in a new country doesn’t bring testimonials with him invariably.  In fact, one case of the kind happened under my own eyes, I might almost say.’

Mrs. Willoughby seemed put out of countenance by Drake’s reply.  She had plainly expected a strenuous denial of her statement.  Drake caught a look of reproof which Mr. Le Mesurier directed towards her, and set it down to his host’s courtesy towards his guest.  Clarice, however, noticed the look too.

‘Indeed,’ she said.  ’Tell us about it, Mr. Drake.  It will be a change from our usual frock-coat conversation.’

Mr. Le Mesurier imposed the interdict of paternal authority.

’I think, my dear, stories of that class are, as a rule, a trifle crude.  Eh, Drake?’

Miss Le Mesurier on the instant became personified submission.

‘Of course, papa,’ she said, ’if you have reason for believing the story isn’t suitable, I wouldn’t think of asking Mr. Drake to tell it.’

Mr. Le Mesurier raised his hands in a gesture of despair, and looked again at Mrs. Willoughby.  His glance said, unmistakably, ’Now see what you’ve done!’ Fielding broke into an open laugh; and Clarice haughtily asked him to explain the joke, so that the others present might share in his amusement.