XVIGregory shepherded them.
“Mrs. Tote, shall we lead the way? No formality, I think. I am afraid our numbers don’t balance, but at an oval table that doesn’t matter so much, does it?”
As they crossed the hall, Justin felt a sharp pinch on the arm. Looking down, he saw Dorinda’s hand withdrawn, her eyes imploring. He fell back a pace and let the rest go by.
“What is it?”
Almost without moving her lips she said,
“He’s the Wicked Uncle.”
“Who is?”
“Mr. Porlock?”
“Nonsense!”
She gave an emphatic nod.
“He is.”
And with that they were at the dining-room door.
When they were in their places Dorinda found herself looking across the length of the table at Gregory and Mrs. Tote. Between her and them on her right were Mr. Masterman, Mrs. Oakley, Mr. Tote, Miss Masterman, Gregory; and on
