Jumping Jenny by Anthony Berkeley

that it was David’s. Poor David! Dr. Chalmers sighed. That damnable Ena had spoiled the evening again. Dr. Chalmers wished for the thousandth time that he could somehow wangle a certificate and get her put into an asylum; but that, of course, was impossible.
    The latch was still up on the front door, and Dr. Chalmers walked in.
    As he climbed the stairs he could hear the radio-gramophone in the ballroom. So they were still dancing. Turning the last angle of the staircase, Dr. Chalmers saw a back disappearing through the ballroom door which looked like Ronald’s. He called out a greeting, but the owner of the back evidently had not heard it, for the door was closed the next instant behind him. As his head came level with the floor of the bar-room Dr. Chalmers looked in there, but the room was empty. A last, very small drink would be pleasant, after his cold drive. He took a step or two into the room, and then remembered that he was still without his pipe, which he had missed badly on the journey back. He was dying for a smoke; the drink could wait. He had an idea that he had left his pipe in the sun-parlour, after he had been sitting up there with Margot.
    Dr. Chalmers went up on to the roof. Any noise his footsteps might have made on the landing carpet was drowned in the music from the big gramophone, but Dr. Chalmers did not appreciate that.
    The sun-parlour was apparently empty, for the lights were out. Dr. Chalmers switched them on, and glanced round for his pipe. He saw, not the pipe, but Ena Stratton, lying in a basket-chair and frowning at him.
    “Why hullo, Ena,” he said, in the pleasant, hearty tones with which he was accustomed to greet everyone, whether he happened to love or detest them. As a matter of fact, Dr. Chalmers, although mildly disliking one or two people, detested only two—Ena Stratton, and an aunt of his wife’s. He was a tolerant man.
    “Hullo Phil,” said Ena flatly.
    Dr. Chalmers gave his useless arm a twitch so as to lodge the hand in his dinner-jacket pocket, and smiled in a friendly way. The more he disliked a person, the more careful he was to smile at her in a friendly way.
    “I thought you and David had gone. Wasn’t it David’s car that drove away just now?”
    “Was it? I dare say.”
    “Anything the matter?” asked Dr. Chalmers, smiling more amicably than ever.
    “Oh, David and Ronald between them threw me out of the ballroom just after you’d gone. I don’t know whether you call that anything,” said Ena, in a martyr’s voice.
    “Threw you out? Oh, come, Ena; that can’t be quite accurate, surely.”
    Ena’s scanty bosom heaved. “That’s right. Now you begin, Phil. Go on, call me a liar.”
    “My dear girl, I have no intention of calling you a liar. But I can’t believe that you’re not exaggerating a little when you say Ronald and David threw you out of the ballroom.”
    “Then ask anyone else who was there. They did. They picked me up by the head and the heels and carried me across the room. My God, I tell you, I’ve had about enough. I’m not going to stand it much longer, Phil.”
    “But if they did carry you across the room, it must have been only in fun?”
    “Oh no, it wasn’t. They may have pretended it was, but it wasn’t. They wanted to get rid of me. Ronald especially. He’s been publicly insulting me all the evening. Even you must have noticed that. I tell you, Phil, I’m not going to stand that kind of treatment. Ronald needn’t think he’s going to get away with that kind of thing from me. In front of all those grinning apes …”
    Dr. Chalmers may have meant well, but his tact was not always very tactful. “I expect we’ve all had a little too much to drink this evening,” said Dr. Chalmers, smiling pleasantly. “You’ll feel different about it in the morning, Ena.”
    “If you mean I’m drunk,” Ena said indignantly, “I’m not. I only wish I were. Heaven knows I’ve tried hard enough this evening, but it just seems as if