Death in Zanzibar by M. M. Kaye

guests,’ he observed sourly to Dany. ‘The Latin type is Eduardo di Chiago. A Roman louse who races his own cars and is a friend of Tyson’s — he would be! The one with white whiskers and Foreign Office written all over him (erroneously, he’s oil) is Yardley. Sir Ambrose. He’s been getting a lot too thick with Elf of late, and she’d better watch her step — there was a rumour around that his Company might be heading for the rocks; and not the kind of rocks she collects, either! It’s a pity it isn’t true. But at least we don’t have to put up with him for long. He’s only going as far as Khartoum.’
    He did not identify the Vision, but he did not need to. It was, unmistakably, the original of the affectionately inscribed photograph that had adorned his dressing-table at the Airlane. His ex-fiancée and Lorraine’s great friend, Amalfi Gordon.
    â€˜She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ sighed Dany wistfully, speaking aloud without realizing it.
    â€˜Is she?’ said Mr Holden coldly.
    He directed a brief scowling glance at the Vision, and turned his back on it. But Mrs Gordon had seen him.
    â€˜Why — Lash!’ Her warm, throaty voice was clearly audible even above the babble of the crowded lounge, but Mr Holden affected to be deaf.
    It did him no good. Mrs Gordon descended upon him in a wave of scented sweetness. ‘Lash, darling — it’s lovely to see you! I was so afraid you’d decide not to come after all.’
    â€˜Why?’ demanded Lash haughtily. ‘This started out as a business trip, and it can stay that way. You surely didn’t think that I’d cancel it just because you decided to transfer your affections to some gilded Italian gigolo, did you?’
    Mrs Gordon tucked a slender, gloved hand under his arm and gazed up at him from a pair of enormous sea-green eyes; her long soft lashes fluttering appealingly.
    No one had ever been able to stay seriously angry with Amalfi Gordon for any length of time. Exasperated, yes. But it was an accepted fact that dear, soft-hearted, feather-headed Elf simply couldn’t help it. If she fell into love, or out of it, and hurt people thereby, it wasn’t her fault. She never meant to hurt.
    Mrs Gordon made a moue and said: ‘Sweetie, you’re not sulking, are you?’
    â€˜Of course I’m not!’ snapped Lash, descending rapidly from the haughty to the frankly furious. ‘What would I have to sulk about? I am, on the contrary, deeply thankful. And now run along back to your Mediterranean bar-fly, there’s a good girl.’
    Amalfi gave his arm a little coaxing tug. ‘Darling, aren’t you being just a tiny bit kindergarten? Eddie’s marvellous!’
    â€˜You mean Eddie’s a Marchese!’ retorted Lash bitterly. ‘That’s the operative word, isn’t it? And you’re just another sucker for a title! Apart from that, what’s he got that I haven’t?’
    â€˜Manners,’ said Amalfi sweetly. And withdrawing her hand she turned away and rejoined her two cavaliers without having even glanced at Dany.
    â€˜How d’you like that?’ demanded Lash indignantly. ‘ Manners! I suppose if I bowed and scraped and went about kissing women’s hands ____ ’
    He broke off and subsided into deep gloom, from which he was presently aroused by another clutch at his arm. But this time it was Dany, and he saw that she was staring in wide-eyed alarm at a thin, boney, dark-skinned Oriental in a blue lounge suit, who carried a brief-case, a neatly rolled umbrella and very new bur-berry.
    â€˜It’s him!’ said Dany in a feverish, ungrammatical whisper.
    â€˜Who? The one you think you saw in Market-something, or the one you saw in the hotel?’
    â€˜In the hotel. But — but perhaps it’s both!’
    â€˜Nuts! The world is full of Oriental gentlemen — they come in all sizes.