Over My Dead Body

"Well… the three in the corner, and the one sitting by the end of the desk, teach dancing. That one talking now with Mrs Miltan is Zorka."

I boosted the brows. "Zorka?"

"Yes, the famous couturiиre. She charges four hundred dollars for a dress. That would be over twenty thousand dinars."

"She looks like a picture in our Bible at home of the dame that cut off Samson's hair. I forget her name, but it wasn't Zorka. Does she sell diamonds at her place?"

"I don't know."

"She wouldn't those, anyway. Who's the chinless wonder with his-hold it. Miltan's going to make a speech."

The йpйe champion, with Percy Ludlow standing beside him, was in the middle of the room trying to collect eyes. Some of them didn't get it and he claimed their attention by clapping his hands. Two of them went on talking and his wife shushed them.

"If you please." He sounded as harassed as he looked. "Ladies and gentlemen. If you please, Mr Driscoll has not arrived. It is very disagreeable, asking you to wait. He should be here. Mr Ludlow has something to say."

Percy Ludlow looked around at the faces with complete aplomb. "Well," he observed in a conversational tone, "really, I don't quite see that we should hang around waiting for Driscoll. It's his row, you know. I've an explanation to make that I'd like you all to hear, because all of you know of Driscoll's absurd accusation regarding Miss Tormic. You'll understand it better if you'll observe the clothes I'm wearing. This is the suit I had on yesterday. Didn't any of you notice anything peculiar about it?"

"Certainly," said a voice promptly, fluttering the r like a moth on a marathon. "I did."

He smiled at her. "What did you notice, Madame Zorka?"

"I noticed that the material is of the same pattern, perfectly, as the one Mr Driscoll was wearing."

Two additional female voices chimed in simultaneously, "So did I," and other voices murmured.

Ludlow nodded. "Apparently Driscoll agrees with me on tailors." His tone sounded as if there were something about that faintly deplorable. "The fabric is identical. I wondered that none of you mentioned it yesterday. Perhaps you did, but not to me. Of course the coincidence explains why when Miss Tormic went to my locker to get my cigarettes from my coat, and Driscoll saw her, he thought the coat was his own. My locker adjoined his."