There were three of them: Lord Carados, Evangeline Snow, and the cheerful girl who had been the social secretary in Carados Square in the days before the war, and whose name Campion could never remember. His first impression of Johnny Carados was that he looked younger than ever. He was a big man, not particularly tall and certainly not fleshy, but wide and long-armed, with a strong chin and serene smiling grey eyes. He glanced round the room as he came in, raised his eyebrows affably at the sight of Susan, smiled reassuringly at his mother, and stared at Campion in amazement. “Hello,” he said, “I thought you were out in the blue. What are you doing here?” “I live here,” said Mr. Campion mildly. “I just looked in, you know. It’s my flat,” he added, by way of explanation. “That’s right—of course it is,” Carados grinned disarmingly. “I knew the address was familiar. I said so to Eve, didn’t I? I say, darling, do you know everybody?” He was talking without thinking, his eyes taking in the curious assortment of people, as he strove to get some line on the situation.
