“He was a little tipsy, you know.”

“So was Compline. While the champagne and brandy worked he rather enjoyed baiting Hart. Now, evidently, he’s not so sure. Nor am I.”

“You disappoint me, Aubrey. Our aesthetic experiment is working beautifully and your only response—”

“Oh, I’m absorbingly interested. If YOU don’t mind — after all, it’s your house.”

“Exactly. And my responsibility. I assembled the cast and, my dear fellow, I offered you a seat in the stalls. The play is going too well for me to stop it at the close of the first act. It falls very prettily on Nick’s exit and I fancy the last thing we hear, before the curtain blots out the scene, is a sharp click.”

“What?”

“Nicholas Compline turning the key in his bedroom door.”

“I hope to God you’re right,” said Mandrake.

The next morning Mandrake woke at the rattle of curtain rings to find his room penetrated by an unearthly light and knew that Highfold was under snow. A heavy fall, the maid said. There were patches of clear sky, but the local prophets said they’d have another storm before evening. She rekindled his fire and left him to stare at his tea-tray and to remember that, not so many years ago, Mr. Stanley Footling, in the attic room of his mother’s boarding-house in Dulwich, had enjoyed none of these amenities. Stanley Footling always showed a tendency to return at the hour of waking and this morning Mandrake asked himself for the hundredth time why he could not admit his metamorphosis with an honest gaiety; why he should suffer the miseries of unconfessed snobbery. He could find no answer and, tired of his thoughts, decided to rise early.

When he went downstairs he found William Compline alone at the breakfast table.

“Hullo,” said William. “Good morning. Jolly day for Nick’s bath, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Nick’s bath in the pool. Have you forgotten the bet?”

“I should think he had.”

“I shall remind him.”

“Well,” said Mandrake, “personally I should pay a good deal more than ten pounds to get out of it.”

“Yes, but you’re not my brother Nicholas. He’ll do it.”

“But,” said Mandrake uncomfortably, “hasn’t he got something wrong with his heart? I mean—”

“It won’t hurt him. The pool’s not frozen. I’ve been to look. He can’t swim, you know, so he’ll just have to pop in at the shallow end and duck.” William gave a little crow of laughter.

“I’d call it off, if I were you.”

“Yes,” said William, “but you’re not me. I’ll remind him of it, all right.” And on this slightly ominous note they continued their breakfast in silence. Hersey Amblington and Chloris Wynne came in together, followed by Jonathan, who appeared to be in the best of spirits.

“We shall have a little sunshine, I believe,” said Jonathan. “It may not last long, so doubtless the hardier members of the party will choose to make the most of it.”

“I don’t propose to build a snow-man, Jonathan, if that’s what you’re driving at,” said Hersey.

“Don’t you, Hersey?” said William. “I rather thought I might. After Nick’s bath, you know. Have you heard about Nick’s bath?”

“Your mother told me. You’re not going to hold him to it, William?”

“He needn’t if he doesn’t want to.”

“Bill,” said Chloris, “don’t remind him of it. Your mother—”

“She won’t get up for ages,” said William, “and I don’t suppose there’ll be any need to remind Nick. After all, it was a bet.”

“I think you’re behaving rather badly,” said Chloris uncertainly. William stared at her.

“Are you afraid he’ll get a little cold in his nose?” he asked, and added: “I was up to my waist in snow and slush in France not so long ago.”

“I know, darling, but—”

“Here is Nick,” said William placidly. His brother came in and paused at the door.

“Good morning,” said William. “We were just talking about the bet. They all seem to think I ought to let you off.”

“Not at all,” said Nicholas. “You’ve lost your tenner.”

“There!” said William, “I said you’d do it. You mustn’t get that lovely uniform wet, Nick. Jonathan will lend you a bathing suit, I expect. Or you could borrow my uniform. It’s been up to—” Mandrake, Chloris, Hersey and Jonathan all began to speak at once and William, smiling gently, fetched himself another cup of coffee. Nicholas turned away to the sideboard. Mandrake had half expected Jonathan to interfere but he merely remarked on the hardihood of the modern young man and drew a somewhat tiresome analogy from the exploits of ancient Greeks. Nicholas suddenly developed a sort of gaiety that set Mandrake’s teeth on edge, so falsely did it ring.

“Shall you come and watch me, Chloris?” asked Nicholas, seating himself beside her.

“I don’t approve of your doing it.”

“Oh, Chloris! Are you angry with me? I can’t bear it. Tell me you’re not angry with me. I’m doing it all for your sake. I must have an audience. Won’t you be my audience?”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Chloris. But, damn it, thought Mandrake, she’s preening herself all the same. Dr. Hart arrived and was very formal with his greetings. He looked ghastly and breakfasted on black coffee and toast. Nicholas threw him a glance curiously compounded of malice and nervousness and began to talk still more loudly to Chloris Wynne of his bet with William. Hersey, who had evidently got sick of Nicholas, suddenly said she thought it was time he cut the cackle and got to the ’osses.

“But everybody isn’t here,” said William. “Madame Lisse isn’t here.”

“Divine creature!” exclaimed Nicholas affectedly, and showed the whites of his eyes at Dr. Hart. “She’s in bed.”

“How do you know?” asked William, against the combined mental opposition of the rest of the party.

“I’ve investigated. I looked in to say good morning on my way down.”

Dr. Hart put down his cup with a clatter and walked quickly out of the room.

“You are a damned fool, Nick,” said Hersey softly.

“It’s starting to snow again,” said William. “You’d better hurry up with your bath.”

Mandrake thought that no wager had ever fallen as inauspiciously as this one. Even Jonathan seemed uneasy and when they drifted into the library made a half-hearted attempt to dissuade Nicholas. Lady Hersey said flatly that she thought the whole affair extremely boring and silly; Chloris Wynne at first attempted an air of jolly house-party waggishness, but a little later Mandrake overheard her urging William to call off the bet. Mrs. Compline somehow got wind of the project and sent down a message forbidding it, but this was followed by a message from Madame Lisse saying that she would watch from her bedroom window. Mandrake tried to get up a party to play Badminton in the barn, but nobody really listened to him. An atmosphere of bathos hung over them like a pall and through it William remained complacent and Nicholas embarrassingly flamboyant.

Finally, it was resolved by the Complines that Nicholas should go down to the pavilion, change there into a bathing suit and, as William put it, go off at the shallow end. William was to watch the performance and Nicholas, rather offensively, insisted upon a second witness. Neither Hersey nor Chloris seemed able to make up her mind whether she would go down to the pool. Jonathan had gone out saying something about Dr. Hart. It appeared that Mandrake would be obliged to witness Nicholas’ ridiculous antics and, muttering to himself, he followed him into the hall.

The rest of the party had disappeared. Nicholas stood brushing up his moustache and eying Mandrake with an air half mischievous, half defiant. “Well,” he said, “this is a pretty damn-fool sort of caper, isn’t it?”

“To be frank,” said Mandrake, “I think it is. It’s snowing like hell again. Don’t you rather feel the bet’s fallen flat?”