then relaxed—smoking, drinking, chatting—until the evening's gayety began shortly after eleven. Tony scrutinized carefully the other guests as they entered. But by twelve-thirty, when the place was practically filled, he hadn't seen an enemy, nor even any one of whom he was suspicious. So he consented to dance with Vyvyan.
They took advantage of almost every dance after that, drinking and nibbling at various inconsequential but expensive items of food between times. And every hour a new revue was presented.
During the presentation of one of these shows, while a huge woman with a nice voice and too many diamonds, crooned something about lovin' in the moonlight, Tony suddenly sat straight up, his gaze riveted to a woman straight across from him at the other end of the balcony. She was a brunette, a stunning brunette, obviously young, and dressed in a gorgeous white evening gown. The bulky young man with her looked like a prizefighter.
"What a dame!" breathed Tony in admiration.
"Where?" snapped Vyvyan.
"That brunette over there in white."
Vyvyan looked, anxiously and with narrowed gaze. Then she glanced back at Tony.
