Read Online Jumping Jenny by Anthony Berkeley - Free Book Online Page B

observed Mrs. Chalmers, with even less tact than she knew. “I’m going to finish this dance, anyhow,” she called across the room.
    Dr. Chalmers nodded pleasantly as he shut the ballroom door behind him.
    Roger, alone at the moment, strolled across the room and joined him.
    “Had a drink, Chalmers? You look as if you could do with one.”
    “I could,” admitted Dr. Chalmers with a smile. “It was quite cold driving. But I think I’ll wait till my wife’s gone to put her things on. Otherwise we’ll never get off. You know how women are.”
    They waited till the dance was over.
    “Now, Lucy,” said Dr. Chalmers, with good-humoured firmness.
    “Oh no, Phil,” pleaded Mrs. Chalmers.
    “Now come along, my dear,” said Dr. Chalmers.
    “But Margot isn’t here. I must say good night to her.”
    “Off with you, woman! Margot will be back by the time you’ve got your things on.”
    Mrs. Chalmers, who had known it was hopeless all the time, consented to go.
    “Now, Sheringham, what about that drink?” said Dr. Chalmers.
    They strolled into the other room, to the bar.
    Dr. and Mrs. Mitchell decided that it was high time for them to go too, and husband and wife divided in the same directions as the Chalmers.
    The other dancers, realising that the party was breaking up, drifted automatically towards the bar.
    “Oh, there you are, Mike,” said Margot Stratton. “I was looking for you. We’d better go, too, I suppose?”
    “Had a good party, Margot?” asked her late husband.
    “A marvellous party, Ronald, thank you.”
    “It’s been a grand party,” Colin Nicolson chimed in. “Have another drink before you go, Margot.”
    “Well, it is getting cold out now,” Margot agreed.
    Mike Armstrong said nothing.
    “Wonderful, our Margot, isn’t she?” Dr. Chalmers appealed to Roger. “Getting on for three in the morning, and not a hair out of place. I believe if Margot was in a liner that sunk, she’d be found sitting on a life-belt, perfectly powdered and waved, and looking as if she’d stepped straight out of a band-box.”
    “Thank you, Phil,” said Margot affably.
    “Ha, ha!” said Mike Armstrong suddenly, and blushed.
    “What was that you said just now, Colin?” asked Mr. Williamson thoughtfully. “Another drink, eh? Was that it? Well, that’s not a bad idea. Eh? That isn’t a bad idea at all, is it?”
    “It’s a magnificent idea, Osbert.”
    “It is,” affirmed Mr. Williamson, much struck. “It is a munificent idea, Colin. Mine’s whisky.”
    “Oh, Osbert,” said Mrs. Williamson tentatively, “do you really think you’d better?”
    “I said, mine’s a whisky,” repeated Mr. Williamson firmly. “Yes, and make it a double one. Thanks, Colin. Well, cheerio Margot!”
    “Cheerio, Osbert.”
    “Osbert, you are awful,” said Mr. Williamson’s wife, and removed herself, somewhat huffily.
    The women took their usual time to get their things on, delayed in this case longer than usual by the arrival of Margot Stratton in the bedroom just as they were ready to leave. At last, however, they presented themselves, cloaked and be-furred, and the chorus of farewells arose.
    “Well, good night, Ronald. … It’s been a lovely party. … Good night, Mr. Sheringham. … Good night, I’ll ring you up tomorrow. … Perhaps you and Ronald would dine with us one night, Mrs. Lefroy? … Say good night to Mrs. Williamson for me. … Don’t forget that book you promised me, Mr. Nicolson. … Well, good night, Sheringham. … Good night. … It’s been a marvellous party, Ronald, darling. … Well, good night. …”
    At last and at last only the house-party remained.
    “We are seven,” said Ronald, looking round the circle of faces. “Or should be, I think. Do we go to bed, or not? I think not. Then help yourselves to more drinks, everyone, and be merry. Seven has always struck me as absolutely the ideal number for a party.”
    The party complied.
    “I don’t want to dance any more,”