"Or possibly," Lutchester suggested, "that he has done what certainly
seems the most reasonable thing--gone straight off to the War Office
with his formula and forgotten all about us. Let us return the
compliment and forget all about him."

They finished their luncheon a little more cheerfully. As the
cigarettes were handed round, Pamela's eyes looked longingly at a tray
of Turkish coffee which was passing.

"I'm a rotten host," Holderness declared, "but, to tell you the truth,
this queer prank of Sandy's has driven everything else out of my mind.
Here, Hassan!"

The coloured man in gorgeous oriental livery turned at once with a
smile. He approached the table, bowing to each of them in turn. Pamela
watched him intently, and, as his eyes met hers, Hassan's hands began
to shake.

"The waiter is bringing us ordinary coffee," Holderness explained.
"Please countermand it and bring us Turkish coffee for four."

The man had lost his savoir faire. His wonderful smile had turned into
something sickly, his bland speech of thanks into a mumble. He turned
away almost sheepishly.

"Hassan doesn't seem to like us to-day," Molly remarked.

"I should have said that he was drunk," her brother observed, looking
after him curiously.