The Defector by Evelyn Anthony Page B

casually. He followed Mary and found himself standing next to the beautiful girl with the hair he didn’t like. There were several men circling round her. He saw Mary kiss her; it was a habit that mystified him. He disliked the social kiss between men and women; when two females did it, it was either hypocritical or pointless.
    “Jeremy Spencer-Barr, this is Charlotte Ransom.”
    “Charley, please,” the girl said.
    “Charlotte’s such a mouthful.” She gave him a dazzling, friendly smile. Graham, a high-powered secretary in the Ministry of Defence. He just wanted to make sure. He was mentally recalling Davina Graham on the one occasion they had met, and he couldn’t see any family likeness to Charlotte Ransom. Except, of course, the hair. Not as red or as abundant, but similar in colour. Darker, more auburn.
    “I hear you have a sister who works in the Defence Ministry,” he said.
    “I work there too. I wonder if we’ve met.”
    “I don’t know have you? Davina never talks about her work. Funnily enough I’ve seen her this weekend at home.”
    “Really. It’s a big place and there must be a lot of Grahams working there. Who’s her boss?”
    “An old family friend. Brigadier James White. Have you been away or do you spend the weekends in London?” she asked. Men didn’t usually talk about a third person when they met her. She thought-him quite goodlooking, but rather cool.
    “Yes, unfortunately. I don’t go away all that often. I think I have met your sister-what a coincidence. She isn’t like you, if I may say so.” Charley accepted the compliment and decided not to move away just yet.
    “We’re not really alike,” she said and laughed.
    “She’s the serious one. I’m the one who gets into mischief.”
    “Lucky mischief,” Jeremy responded quickly. He saw the gratification in her smile and called her a silly cow in private. He hated women who demanded flattery.
    “Where have you been then?” he said.
    “Where’s home?”
    “My parents live near Salisbury,” Charley answered.
    “We’ve got a darling old house there, where Davy and I were brought up. I adore going back whenever I can tear myself away. I’m just in the middle of a divorce, and it’s too depressing and dreary. You’re Mary’s friend, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
    “I hope it’s good,” he said.
    “Oh, yes apparently you’re quite something, Mr. Spencer-Barr. Lucky Mary.”
    “Yes, aren’t I?” Mary Walker said. She slipped her arm through Jeremy’s and gave Charley a sweet smile.
    “I’m trying to think when or where I met your sister,” Jeremy said. What the hell was she doing away for the weekend did that mean she’d been taken off Sasanov, and if so, who had replaced her?
    “She’s not married, is she? Some people go on using their maiden names when they’re working.”
    “No,” Charley said.
    “She’s not married.” She was becoming bored again with the return to Davina as a subject, and poor Mary Walker standing guard over her property in case he was lured away. The remark that followed was defensive, because Mary Walker knew what had happened with Richard; also there was a pause, and Charley liked to keep a conversation going.
    “She had a rather peculiar Pole staying the weekend too,” she said gaily.
    “I just had a feeling romance was in the air. Not that she’d admit anything, of course. Next thing we know, she’ll be whizzed behind the Iron Curtain.” There was a general laugh in which Jeremy joined. A Pole. good God above could it be? He needed a moment to think and recover himself. He offered to get them drinks and slipped away. A Pole. it must be Sasanov; there was no other explanation. A weekend away from supervision, introduction to a family. Romance in the air. He must have broken and committed himself to cooperating with the West. And if that supremely vain and superficial girl was right, the minder had become the mistress. He went back with three glasses