 
### The Wellington Bureau

A Quartermain Mystery

Daphne Coleridge

Copyright © Daphne Coleridge 2015

One

Lady Quartermain was in the garden cutting the heads off some overblown pink roses when her stepson found her. He cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to attract her attention, but she kept her head bent over the flowers, her dark hair concealing her face from him. She wore a beige raincoat which was several sizes too big and unbuttoned, so that it billowed in the wind. Her hands were protected from thorns by a pair of muddy gardening gloves. In contrast, an elegant blue and white silk dress was occasionally revealed beneath the flapping coat.

"The carnations have fallen flat on their faces, poor dears. It's the wind," she commented at last. "And the sweet-peas have gone gangly."

The young man shuffled. "I say, they're all here, you know!"

"They make such a mess!" exclaimed the lady, as she knelt down in the mud and started to pick up the pink petals. "Like confetti."

"Douglas has given them sherry."

Lady Quartermain stood up and looked about her. She gave a deep sigh. "If only the wind would drop."

"Are you coming?"

She looked at the tall youth with his blond hair dropping over one eye and his immaculate, if rather dandyish clothes, as if noticing his presence for the first time. "Andrew always hated visitors!" She said with indignation.

"Damned press!" exclaimed Brigadier Harris Butterworth.

"Local?" enquired the dandyish young man, slumping down into at settee and slopping a quantity of whisky and soda out of an over-full glass.

The Brigadier nodded, but his eyes and attention had already turned to Lady Quartermain who was standing with her back to them, surveying the wind-swept garden.

"Are you all right, my dear?" he said gently.

The shoulders shrugged, but there was no reply. A tap on the door forestalled any further enquiries. The man who entered was a tall, sallow complexioned man with a long face and lugubrious expression.

"Will her ladyship require anything further?" he asked.

The Brigadier shook his head and the man faded quietly from the room, the door closing softly behind him.

"What are you planning to do then, Anna?" The young man took a swig of his whisky, not noticing the warning frown directed at him by the Brigadier. "I mean, you can stay here as long as you like. After all, it is your home even if..."

"Don't be such a damned idiot, Toby!" said the Brigadier crossly.

"All I mean is," the youth rattled on in a slightly slurred and rather exaggeratedly upper-class accent, "that I'd like Anna to stay here. I won't be here often. I know how she hates people. I'll give her plenty of warning when I'm bringing friends and she can clear out until we've gone."

"You really are thunderously tactless!" Anna turned to face the two men, and the Brigadier was relieved to see that the corners of her mouth had twitched into a slight smile.

"Am I? I s'pose I am!" replied Toby with a momentary frown. "But I just wanted you to know that you were welcome." His smile expressed genuine good humour and Anna could only smile back.

"Will you stay here? Or would you like to get away?" The Brigadier was more cautious in his enquiries, but at the same time he was a great believer in action as a cure for all ills, physical or mental. The idea of leaving the bereaved Lady Quartermain with nothing but melancholy thoughts to occupy her, despite her professed preference for solitude, concerned him. After all, she had just lost her husband and the child she had looked after as her own, in tragic circumstances, as that wretched journalist had kept saying. She was so young. Twenty-five, was it? No older than that tactless buffoon Toby. But she had never really had a life of her own before Andrew. She had nothing to go back to. And she was such a damned odd girl. Not surprising, after living in virtual isolation with a rum devil like Viscount Quartermain. Being on her own now in the big, empty house would do her no good at all. Douglas was no companion for a young girl, and he had always thought Andrew's gardener was quite as odd as his son. The sooner she found some sort of occupation the better, as far as the Brigadier was concerned. He was prepared to bully her into action if need be. He did not think a decent interval of mourning was called for in this case. After all, once she had started to mourn why should she stop? It would have been different if the little girl had lived. Then there would have been some reason for her to come to terms with her grief as quickly as possible. But with her dead too...

Anna went and poured herself a drink from a heavy decanter and then topped-up the glass that Toby waved at her.

"You are both leaving tomorrow?"

"Got a job to do," said Toby, with a resignation that might, in other company, have concealed the fact that his work was more of a pastime than a means of earning a living.

"I could stay for another day if you would like me to," said the Brigadier.

Anna shook her head. "I'd be poor company. I'll probably tidy up the garden. Everything's gone wild. Poor Jack has had his usual bout of summer flu and Sam does more harm than good without his father to keep a watchful eye on him." She returned to her station by the window.

"Father loved the garden! Never could see the sense in it myself. Can't tell a rose from a weed unless I prick my finger on it. That and stuffy old books. How did you put up with him?"

Anna made no reply.

"Wasn't he breeding some special sort of a rose or some such nonsense?"

Anna turned and spoke in a slightly unsteady voice. "I'd rather not...not talk about it just now."

Seeing that she was genuinely upset, Toby sat up, suddenly sobered. "I say! I am sorry! I just thought it might help to talk."

"Not to worry."

"Would you rather I shut up?"

"No. Not really. I'm being silly."But despite her protestation a silence fell on the trio until she spoke again herself. "It isn't Andrew. He wouldn't have minded for himself. It's poor little Emma. It's just.... such a waste."

It was Toby, and not the more tactful but also more restrained Brigadier, who leapt to his feet and gave his stepmother a hug just when she looked as if she might cry.

Anna sat on the edge of her bed, the curtains open, quite unable to compose herself for sleep. There was a scratching at the door and she went over to open it. Wellington, an ageing retriever, padded in and started to lick her hand. She smiled, thinking how strange and nice it was that a dog could be so sensitive to her feelings. It was as if he knew that she wanted company, but not the enquiring, questioning company of humans. Still, she was glad that the Brigadier and Toby had been there for the funeral. They were probably the only two people whose presence she could have tolerated. The Brigadier, dour and practical, and Toby, boisterous and insensitive; both equally, unexpectedly, kind and concerned.

The door had been left ajar, and it was not long before Victor and Soult took the opportunity of entering the usually forbidden chamber. The whole menagerie. Good. Anna let the two purring cats jump up onto the bed one after another. Why bother to stop them? She sat down on the edge and let Wellington settle with his wet nose on her feet. All three were part of the life she had loved. The life that had died with Viscount Quartermain in the burning wreck of his Morgan.

She let her mind wander back to their first meeting nearly five years before. She was halfway through her first term at university and was hating it. Perhaps it was because she was a couple of years older than most of the others in her year, but she was heartily fed up with her fellows, all full of themselves, gushing and superficial; some self-consciously intellectual, some self-consciously non-intellectual. All wanting attention and no one prepared to pay attention. It was a place to feel lonely or to enter the fray and fight for your share of the limelight. Anna felt lonely.

Her professor had asked, or been bullied into asking, an old school friend to give a lecture to the history society. The usual clutch of genuine enthusiasts turned up for the extra-curricular talk, less than usual, because no one had heard of Andrew Quartermain. His subject was the Peninsular Wars, and he seemed to speak for his own pleasure, largely oblivious of the small, fidgeting audience. Had they all got up and crept out one by one he would have carried on with equal relish, or so Anna thought to herself at the time. He was not a good speaker. His humour and evident knowledge of the subject might have recommended him, but his stutter and his inability to follow any point through to a conclusion was his undoing.

It was customary for members of the society to take visiting speakers to the bar for a drink. The professor accompanied them on this occasion, but was called away at the crucial moment, leaving the students to entertain their unprepossessing guest. He accepted a beer and sucked on the end of an empty pipe, but proved as uncommunicative away from the lecture theatre as he had been voluble within it. All polite overtures received a cursory monosyllable by way of reply, and the students were soon talking amongst themselves whilst their guest sucked at his pipe in silence. After nearly half an hour, the professor having failed to return, the man turned to Anna, who was now seated on his immediate right, the intervening person having left.

"The tttt'trouble with making conversation," he began, "is that everyone likes to tt'talk but no one wants to listen. Your friends are polite. They t'take it in turns. They put up a pretence of listening until it is their turn to speak. Most commendable."

Anna was not sure how to reply, so she settled for a smile.

"I don't mean to seem impolite myself," continued the historian. "I will gladly talk. Would you prefer gardening or more history? Or would you prefer me to listen to a subject of your choice?"

Anna elected to hear about gardening. Quartermain told her about his pink roses, the nice hedgehog he had recently found, and the fact that the vine he had known since it was a pip was really coming along rather nicely. Anna listened with amusement. She was not interested in gardens, but he spoke with a wry humour which mocked his own delight in being allowed to talk about his small horticultural triumphs, which made her smile.

"Do you like flowers, my dear?" he enquired at last.

Anna admitted that you could not recall having noticed any in recent weeks.

"No, it is a sad time for gardens. But I do have some nice chrysanthemums. And some late roses. Silly things! I'll send you some."

"I'm sorry you were lumbered with him," said the president of the society, a lean, insipid youth whom Anna particularly disliked, after the professor had retrieved his friend.

"Mr Quartermain? I rather liked him."

"Lord Augustus Quartermain, if you please! He's a viscount or something. But a boring old duffer all the same. The Prof. said history is his hobby. I suppose he doesn't need to worry about earning a crust like the rest of us."

Even the professor apologised to Anna.

"I hear that you were stuck with Andrew last night. He's a decent enough chap. A bit eccentric."

"I liked him."

"Did you? That's good. He said he'd been telling you about his latest article. Something about Napoleon and his barges, eh? Sounds dull even to me." The professor guffawed at his own joke.

The next day some flowers and a copy of the article, hand-written and illegible, arrived in the history department addressed: "To the nice dark-haired girl – A.A.Q."

Anna read the article, put the flowers in a vase, and then, after a considerable amount, of thought, wrote a short note – "A.A.Q. You can no more keep to the point when you write than when you speak. Perhaps you should try a few illustrations. I can find no fault with the flowers. Anna."

She gave the note to the professor and asked him to forward it to his friend.

She heard no more. Then, a fortnight later, he appeared in her halls of residence. He was in his early forties with clever blue eyes which crinkled at the edges when, not infrequently, something amused him; and blond hair which fell over his eyes whenever something excited him. He was only a little taller that Anna herself, but broad shouldered. His tweedy clothes and his mannerisms gave the impression that he was older than he really was. Anna thought him rather attractive.

Andrew had sat in her room, drinking coffee, looking at her bookshelf, asking her to help him finish a crossword. Another time he brought some port and two glasses, explaining that he would not enjoy it out of a mug. He had also brought a bunch of chrysanthemums and a vase to put them in, some paints and paper; and he proceeded to paint the flowers whilst Anna finished her essay. He then read the essay, laughed at her respectful references to various historians as "authorities", drank some cocoa and left.

The third time he came he seemed ill at ease. He spoke more than usual and stuttered a lot.

"Are you enjoying yourself here," he asked.

"No," she replied.

"Are you ambitious?"

"No."

"Would you enjoy a quiet life?"

"I think so."

"Is there any reason why you would dd'dislike the idea of marrying me?"

Anna thought for a moment. Andrew's few brief visits had made her realise how lonely she had been, how devoid of purpose her life.

"I have this little girl, you see. Emma."

"Your daughter?" asked Anna.

"Yes."

"How old."

"I've not counted. Only months."

"Why not get a nanny?"

"Well, I thought we would get along rather well."

"Yes, I think we might."

They had got on very well. For the best part of five years they had lived together in Quartermain House, a fine seventeenth century building with large, bright rooms and several acres of grounds, which included the walled rose garden so dear to Andrew's heart. They had pottered about the gardens which were tended so lovingly by the ailing but likeable Jack assisted by his simple, but equally likeable son, Sam. They had read books from the library. In the spring they sat in the conservatory and read, in the summer that sat in the garden, and in the winter they sat in front of a roaring fire in the library itself. Andrew had started to teach her Latin and they had reconstructed various historical battles with his vast collection of toy soldiers. She had shared his dislike of visitors. They never entertained – to the silent relief of Douglas. The only person Andrew had any time for was Brigadier Butterworth. Toby dropped in every now and then, usually to borrow money from his father, but he soon learnt not to bring his friends. Apart from these few distractions, they were fully occupied with the care of little Emma.

Anna was not surprised that Toby's mother had left Andrew after two years of marriage. She was only surprised that she had put up with him so long. It was a fact she could not explain. He had none of the virtues required to make a marriage endurable. He was not prepared to compromise on anything. He would talk only if he was interested in a subject. He did only what he enjoyed. He loved peace and solitude and would only venture out of his house if it pleased him to do so. He would not even trouble to be courteous to anyone imprudent enough to visit them. Few people did, although Anna's brother, despite repeated warnings, made one attempt. As a lover she found him neither romantic nor passionate. He was not even especially considerate. He was, however, evidently quite fond of her and the marriage was a success simply because they were in accord in every particular. She shared both his likes and his dislikes. She did not even object to his habit of playing a piece of music over and over again. She actually grew to like Mozart's Requiem after hearing it for the fifth time on their honeymoon, which was spent at Quartermain House. So, the long, happy years of peace and security had stretched out before them. And then he had been killed and little Emma with him.

Anna went and opened the window. She would have to leave Quartermain House soon. After all, it belonged to the new viscount now. She would no doubt have plenty of money. There was no need for her to get a job. And Emma was gone. There was no one for her to look after, no need to make an effort. In short, there was nothing for her to do. No need to live, nothing to live for. She wished she could die. She thought of killing herself, but it seemed such a selfish, self-pitying thing to do. So useless. As wasteful as Emma's death. There was as little point in dying as there was in living. She sighed, closed the window again, and lay wearily but open-eyed on the bed.

Two

Anna had been staying with her brother for over a month. She spent her time helping to look after her two small nieces, Louise and Jennifer, or simply sitting in the sun feeling anything from melancholy to desolate. She hated the small suburban semi which seemed to her so cramped and claustrophobic after Quartermain House. She hated herself for being so ungrateful, in view of the considerable sacrifices that had been made by all the Walker family in order to make her comfortable. Jennifer had given up her bedroom for her, and the two girls and all their things were cramped into one small room. There had been many quarrels as a result. Louise didn't see why her sister should put toys in her cupboard. Jennifer felt that, having given up her cupboard for her aunt's use, she had a right to half her sister's. A doll was thrown out of the window and the face battered flat in the ensuing squabble. Both girls were punished by their mother for behaving so badly when "poor Aunt Anna" was in the house.

Anna felt guilty for the disruption her presence caused, guilty about her frequent phone calls to Douglas to see how the cats, dogs, and roses were, and guilty because she found herself despising the narrow, routine life of her brother and his family. After all, if she hadn't happened to marry Viscount Quartermain, she would probably have been living in a three-bedroom house with two quarrelsome children and another such work-obsessed mediocrity as her brother for a husband. She certainly could not have been less happy than she was. All she had was a title, which she would have been embarrassed to use, and money – which was equally embarrassing, just as useless in the circumstances, and just as little deserved.

Anna decided that it was time she found herself a house of her own, if only to cease to be a burden to the Walkers and to get away from her brother's repeated insistence that she should find herself a useful job, and his wife's repeated insistence that she should remarry as soon as possible. She planned to go and stay with Toby in the St George's Square apartment until she could buy a place of her own. She had no thoughts about what she would do with herself once settled in her newly purchased home. She was rather afraid that the more she thought about that question the more deeply depressed she would become. Instead, she set out on a sunny Tuesday with the intention of visiting a bank and then purchasing a few parting gifts for her brother's family, her mind fully occupied by the thorny problem of how much she could spend on the Walkers without being inappropriate.

As Anna walked into the foyer of the bank she was dimly aware of the fact that something was wrong, although her attention was at first focused on trying to open the catch of her bag. Out of the corner of her eye she observed that a group of people were huddled into one corner. There were none of the queues so familiar in banks, and one of the cashiers was making a half suppressed gulping noise as if about to have hysterics. Anna gave up the struggle with the stubborn catch and had a good look round her. A man with a stocking over his head brandished a gun at her. She was left with the impression that he wanted her to join the huddle, and she obediently did so.

"Now shut the bloody door!" shouted another man.

Anna was intrigued by the extraordinary situation she had walked into. "Perhaps I'll be shot!" was her first thought. "How very timely."

The cashier had given herself up to a serious attack of hysterics. They seemed to be infectious. One of the women beside Anna had clasped her hands to her mouth and was saying,

"Oh, no! Oh, no!" over and over again.

Another of the cluster, a paunchy man in his middle thirties with glasses and a briefcase, was breathing strenuously and his hands were shaking. The other two women in the group looked pale and pinched about the lips. No one appeared to have been hurt in any way. Behind the counter there was another group and a second gunman stood guard over them. He was glancing unhappily at the hysterical woman. Her gasps and sobs seemed to unnerve him. The third man, the one who had spoken, was directing a tall man to take money out of the tills, and he was stuffing the notes into a large hold-all.

"Will they... will they kill us?" One of the pinched-lipped women put her hand on Anna's arm and spoke in a shaky whisper.

Anna shook her head.

"Shut that woman up!" the third man called to the gunman. He obligingly flourished his gun in the direction of the woman who had spoken. She gave a little half-stifled shriek and pushed behind Anna.

It was at that moment that they heard the sound of sirens. The man whom Anna had already placed as the leader of the trio ran to the window and looked out, leaving the hold-all with the tall man.

"Blast! They're coming here. Some bastard must have raised the alarm!" He seemed to be at a loss for a few seconds and the two men who were standing guard glanced at him nervously.

"What do we do?" asked the one in charge of Anna's group.

"Get all the hostages together. Out there where we can see them!"

"Oh, so we are hostages now!" thought Anna.

The group from behind the counter were ushered out to join them. Anna watched the guard. He was a slim, rather angular youth. The stocking did not conceal the fact that he had red hair. He wore no gloves and she could see his heavily freckled hands and a few wisps of the red hair where his wrist was exposed. She looked at the man whom he had joined. Naked hands, freckles, red hair. They were the same height, the same build.

"Twins!" she thought to herself. "And mere lads at that."

She turned her attention to the third man. He was shorter than the twins but thick-set and muscular. He was obviously older. She had placed him as their leader, not because he had given instructions, but because the youngsters kept glancing across at him. It struck her that this was not a very professional job. She knew nothing about crime, but it was quite obvious that they had no contingency plan to cover the unexpected arrival of the police. The twins were twitching from foot to foot, paying more attention to the older man than to their hostages.

"What are we going to do?" repeated a twin.

"Just let me think, will you!" snapped the man.

It was clear that they had never thought further than walking in, brandishing a gun, and then walking out with the money. The twins looked as terrified as their hostages and the thug in charge was not much better. Anna thought of the fact that they all had something to lose. The hostages were frightened of being killed and the criminals of being caught. It occurred to her that she had already lost everything she valued. Anna felt a sudden sense of release, a calmness. She actually had an advantage. She really did not care what happened to her. She found that she could actually think quite rationally with a gun pointing at her. But she realised that she mustn't do anything rash. It is one thing to be indifferent to your own safety, but there were others who clearly wanted very much to stay alive.

They were all standing together now in the foyer. Three girls and two men from behind the tills, the two tight-lipped women, the paunchy man and the hysterical woman. Ten, including herself. The hysterical cashier had subsided a bit. The twins stood over them. The thug, as Anna mentally named the third man, darted his head to the window and back to safety a few times. He obviously guessed there might eventually be police marksmen outside. They all stood in silence for a while.

"It's like being in a play without a script!" Anna thought. "We need a prompt or we'll be like this all month." But she feared that an incompetent gunman was more likely to shoot people than a competent one with a rational plan in mind. What would happen if the thug panicked? The twins may be younger and perhaps more impressionable, but finding themselves without a strong leader, they too might panic. Were they potential killers? Would desperation drive them to something they would regret? The longer the tension mounted in this bewildering silence of indecision, the more likely they were to snap.

Anna ran through the possibilities in her mind. Could she try to disarm them and hope the tall man or the paunchy man would follow her up? No! Ridiculous! She couldn't possibly take on three armed men. She'd just get them all killed. Better to do nothing. What about the thug? Could she talk sense to him? She glanced at his bulky form. A man of his age who was organising, or half-organising, an armed robbery, was not likely to be very susceptible to common sense. He wouldn't be there if he was. That left the twins. They were young. They were unsure of themselves, she could see that. They must be impressionable or they wouldn't be there. Perhaps they had been talked into this daft scheme by the promise of easy money. Now it had gone wrong. Perhaps they would leap at the chance of some escape from this blunder. Could she offer it to them? If she provoked the thug by speaking to them, he might kill her, but he was unlikely to be panicked into a mass slaughter. Was that the only option? Yes, it probably was. But she must go carefully.

"Come out with your hands in the air! You are surrounded!" blared out a voice through a loud hailer, as if it were the film set of a low budget movie. The hackneyed challenge seemed to have the desired effect on the three criminals. They all looked at each other in mute terror. Then the thug appeared to gather such wits as he possessed.

"We'll ask for a car to take us to the airport." He sounded pleased with himself, as if he'd thought up some clever, viable plan of escape. "We'll take a couple of hostages."

Both of the women who had been hysterical started to gulp again. Anna guessed from their silence that the twins were unimpressed, but they obviously had no alternative to suggest.

"One of them can take a message. You!" the thug pointed in the general direction of Anna. "Go out and tell them that if we don't get a car to take us to the airport, we'll start shooting people!" Anna had pointedly looked at the woman who stood just behind her as if she thought that the man was addressing her. The woman was willingly convinced that she was the intended messenger. She stepped forward a little timidly.

"Not you!" exclaimed the thug.

"Let her go," Anna said, as if there had been a misunderstanding.

"OK. You can go. Just tell them what we want. I'm not playing games. I'll kill everyone in this room if I have to!"

The woman scuttled nervously across to the door as if she thought she might be shot in the back. At the door she glanced back.

"They won't shoot? Out there I mean?"

"GO!" bellowed the man.

She went.

There was no sound of gunfire, so it was assumed that the message was safely carried.

Everyone stood waiting in a taut, nervous silence. The thug crouched beside the counter, out of sight of the window, his gun trained on the huddle. The twins stood closer, but were also wary of the windows. At last the thug told the tall man to pull the blinds down. This timely thought seemed to relax the twins a little, they felt less exposed. But time passed and there was no reply to the message.

"You are twins, are you not?" Anna spoke in a soft but clear voice.

"Eh?" Alarm tinged the voice of the lad who spoke.

"Shut that woman up!" snapped their crouching leader.

"Red-haired." She spoke as if making a casual observation.

The twins shuffled silently and glanced at each other.

"Even if they give you a car, you can't get away."

The thug stood up. "One more word out of you and I'll kill you!"

A pause.

"If you do kill me you'll go to prison for life!"

"I'll kill you all!" The thug brandished his gun.

"For goodness sake!" the tall man hissed at Anna in alarm.

"If you give yourselves up before anyone is hurt, you may get off with a light sentence. I expect there are mitigating circumstances. I'll help you both." Her voice was calm and reassuring.

The thug walked over in a few strides. "Just shut your face!" He looked at Anna and she looked him straight in the eyes. He lifted his hand and struck her to the ground.

"No, Jack!" exclaimed a twin.

"Shut up! You bloody fool!" He swung round to face the now cowering huddle. "The next one who speaks is dead. Got it!"

Anna picked herself up. There were tears in her eyes. She couldn't help it. No one had ever hit her before. Silence returned to the room.

"Why don't the bastards answer!" muttered the thug.

Anna was now standing a little apart from the cluster. She wiped a drop of blood from her lip and looked at the twins with big wet eyes. They glanced at each other uneasily. They did not like to see a woman hurt. Taking money was one thing. They had not expected this. It had been fun planning the robbery. Jack had made it sound easy. It had been a game. Anna pulled herself together and wiped her eyes.

"Why don't they answer?" the thug repeated his question.

"They will wait until you give up. If you kill us, they'll shoot you. Is that what you had in mind?" Anna had spoken again, her voice only slightly unsteady.

The huddle looked at her as if they thought she was mad. At least she was standing well away from them now. If he shot that stupid woman he would not hit them by mistake!

The thug was incensed. "I've had it with you, lady!" He walked menacingly towards her.

"Lady Quartermain, actually."

"What?" he was momentarily confused.

"That's my name. Lady Augustus Quartermain." Now she was quite deliberately trying to rouse him. The huddle could not understand why. They had not watched the twins as closely as she had.

"Bugger that!" said the thug. His gun was forgotten in his hand. He was not used to shooting people. But he was used to hitting women. That came naturally to him. "I'll shut that stupid upper-class mouth of yours for good!" He struck her again. She flinched but stood up to face him again. His anger and frustration were now focused on her.

"Will this get you safely to the airport?" Her comment was aimed at the twins.

He started to hit her again. If he had shot her he might have maintained his tenuous control on the situation and his authority over the twins. But his slender reserves of self-control were exhausted. Even the huddle, cowed though they were by his violence, could see he had lost an important point. The twins could take no more. They darted forward and grabbed him. "Leave her alone!" He turned on them. One twin tussled with him. The other picked up the gun he had dropped. The huddle watched. The twin had the advantage of youth and he stood up while the man remained on the floor, wiping blood from his own mouth.

Just then the phone rang. Everyone turned and looked at it. It was Anna who went and picked up the receiver.

"We are trying to arrange a car," the voice prevaricated.

"Not to worry. It's a nice day. We'll walk!"

As Anna was leaving the police station several hours later, she was told that a gentleman had come to collect her. She was surprised to see the Brigadier. He ushered her to his silver-grey Jaguar and opened the door for her.

"How on earth did you know that I would be here?"

"Your brother phoned me. I was in Town, so it did not take me long to drive down."

"I didn't know my brother knew you."

"We spoke at the funeral."

"Have you set yourself up as my guardian angel?" Anna spoke without rancour. Andrew had always joked about how the then Captain Butterworth had looked after him when he was a young, rash youth.

"Have you been to the hospital, Lady Quartermain?" the Brigadier referred to the all too obvious cuts and bruises on Anna's face.

"Yes. Before the police station. I've done my rounds of the emergency services. They look worse than they are. Just don't, for goodness sake, do anything to make me smile!"

There was little danger of that. The Brigadier was not in the habit of intentionally doing or saying anything amusing. He was a tall, wiry man of distinguished bearing. He might have been considered attractive had there been more animation in his face. As it was, he was what Anna described as a no-nonsense man, perfectly self-controlled. Inscrutable, even. That he had feelings could only be surmised from that fact that he had taken early retirement from a career to which he had appeared to be entirely devoted in order to nurse his wife, Helena, through the final year of a debilitating illness. She had died the previous summer. He was a man of actions rather than words; Andrew Quartermain, a man of words. Their only similarity was a mutual dislike of socializing. Yet theirs had been a firm and lasting friendship. Anna had not seen much of Harris Butterworth in her years at Quartermain House, and she could certainly not claim to know him well, yet he had been one of the few constants in her life. He had been a regular, if not a frequent, visitor.

"You were lucky not to be killed."

Anna glanced at her face in the mirror on the sun-visor and winced. "They weren't a very dangerous set of armed robbers. One of them was an ass and the other two mere lads. Quite nice lads, I suspect."

"Amateurs and fools can be more dangerous than clever, calculating men. Unreliable," he added as he changed gear. Anna did not doubt that the Brigadier knew what he was talking about. "You showed courage." This was high praise coming from him.

"Not as much as you might think. I was the only one with nothing to lose," Anna admitted. "Mind you, there were moments when I regretted my bravado. Indifference to life does not reconcile you to pain."

The Brigadier frowned. "The Inspector gave me an account of what occurred. What you did may have been right in the circumstances but there is no excuse for risking a life, even your own life, unless it is strictly necessary."

This comment surprised Anna, coming from a military man like the Brigadier. But then, the military was not in the business of risking lives without cause.

"Brigadier," she changed the subject. "Do you think we could do something to get the Bird lads off without a prison sentence?"

"Who?"

"The twins: William and Benjamin Bird. I asked them their names. They're only eighteen. I said I'd do what I could."

"You can't interfere with the law."

"But I bet you could if you knew the right people."

"Well, I don't recommend it."

"We could sort out some mitigating circumstances surely? They gave themselves up without hurting anyone. They were influenced by an older man. Would having a good job to go to help them?"

"As part of a probation officer's report it might do some good."

"Good."

The Brigadier was provoked to an enquiry. "Who do you think will provide jobs for them?"

"Me."

"You!"

"Yes. A chauffeur and...and a something else when I can think of it."

"You can't possibly need a chauffeur."

"Well, no. Although I can't drive, so it might come in handy. But, to be honest, I had something else in mind. It suddenly struck me at the police station. I could start a business."

Something in Anna's tone alerted the Brigadier to the fact that what she had in mind was something of which he was likely to disapprove.

"What precisely?" he asked in his bleakest tones.

"An investigation agency," she replied.

"What nonsense!" The Brigadier had decided that her experiences that day had upset her and he had resolved not to be provoked.

"A sort of – whatever your problem, we'll sort it out – kind of organisation. The twins should be a great help."

The Brigadier humphed.

"Well, for all the negatives in my life at present, there appears to be one positive in the balance. I appear to have the gift of indifference. I'm immune to fear."

The Brigadier was silent for a moment. Silent and thoughtful. After a while he said, "You have had reason to be upset recently. Your responses might well be...not quite natural. But you will start to care about things again, believe me. If I was you I'd take things easy for a bit. Go on holiday, perhaps. Then think about your future."

Anna did not reply.

"Giles Banks-Enfield," the Brigadier said suddenly as the car swung round a bend.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's the man for your twins. A first class barrister."

Three

The judge was saying, "...and in view of their youth and the absence of any record of previous criminal activity...."

He was a grey-haired, shrivelled man with hunched shoulders and a rather sour expression. He looked to Anna like someone whose understanding of justice was firmly rooted in the medieval concept of the Last Judgement. On this occasion, however, his sense of justice appeared to have been tempered by mercy.

"...the favourable report from the probation officer..." the judge peered over the top of his glasses at the man in question as if to gauge from his expression or posture whether he was likely to be easily gullible.

Anna noticed that William was shuffling a bit. Benjamin seemed almost as if he was stifling a smile. Perhaps it was the judge's pompous tones. Or perhaps merely the gradual dawn of relief as the judge unwillingly edged himself towards a lenient sentence.

"...particularly as the two young men who, it could be said, are victims of the unemployment that blights our times, have been guaranteed the security of reputable employment by a, er, no doubt respected member of our society..."

Ben gave Anna a broad wink which the judge could not hope to see. Anna turned to the Brigadier,

"Are you sure you didn't have a word with this venerable pillar of the establishment?"

After the court case was concluded, good manners compelled Anna to accept an invitation to dine with the Brigadier and Giles Banks-Enfield. She consented all the more willingly because she had seen nothing of the Brigadier in the months immediately preceding the trial. Indeed, she had seen more of the Bird family. The twin's parents turned out to be a mild, obliging father and a doting mother. They were quite happy that she should take an interest in the sons whom, they assured her, were mischievous rather than bad. The willingness of the twins to accept her offer of a job was confirmed when she admitted that the bulk of their initial duties would be to purchase and chauffeur a suitable car. By suitable, they were assured, she meant anything that they took a liking to within a degree of financial reason. It was not surprising that, with the susceptibility of youth, they were soon quite devoted to their attractive and seemingly eccentric benefactress.

"Quite a satisfactory outcome." Banks-Enfield appeared to have chosen his preferred dish with a mere glance at the menu. He sat back in his chair and undid his waistcoat to bear witness to previous indulgences. "Better, perhaps, than I expected. I thought they might get a short spell or a suspended sentence. But probation...quite lenient of the judge. And he is not known for leniency."

"He wasn't lenient to the third man, John Martin," commented the Brigadier, surveying the menu with great care.

"He wasn't my client!" Banks-Enfield gave a deep laugh which sent ripples of vibration through his plump body.

"Are you sure you don't know the judge?" enquired Anna of the Brigadier.

"As it happens, his son is in my old regiment. I do not know if such a connection constitutes knowing him." He did not lift his eyes from the menu to see Anna's smile.

The waitress came and took their orders. The wine waiter was close on her heels.

"I don't know how we shall manage this," said the Brigadier. "I shall have a Muscadet myself, but I know that I won't get Giles to touch anything but Champagne. Lady Quartermain?"

Anna gave a dismissive shrug. "I'm not wine-proud. I'll drink half your Muscadet and half of Mr Banks-Enfield's Champagne. Not in the same glass," she added to the waiter, who had given an involuntary shudder. The Brigadier gave his instruction to the wine waiter. He reappeared shortly, and Anna shook her head when the Brigadier offered her his chosen wine to taste. He then did so himself and nodded to the waiter. The Champagne arrived in an ornate silver bucket and the barrister indicated that his glass should be filled, with a gesture that implied that as long as it was cold and fizzy and had "Champagne" on the label he would be quite content.

"I've had plenty of opportunity for wine sampling recently," admitted Anna. ''My palate has not been educated, but my mood frequently improved by the exercise."

Banks-Enfield laughed conspiratorially. This was an attitude to wine which he understood.

"I have a fridge full of Pouilly Fume," she told the Brigadier. "It has the virtue of being one of the few wines I can distinguish from any other. Even you may not dislike it. If you came to sample a glass you would be the first person to enter my new home."

"Have you settled in?"

"I've been there for over three months, so I am as settled as I'll ever be. It is an office really, so my approach to furnishing and decorating has been utilitarian. I have a filing cabinet and a desk, somewhere to play music, and somewhere to chill the wine. The filing cabinet and desk are full of magazines as I'm rather short of files at present. So you will see that I'm not bored." Anna had summed up her life of the past months as completely as she could. She knew that the Brigadier would be interested although he would not ask for details unless she volunteered them.

"An office? What is your line of business?" Banks-Enfield enquired.

"Investigation," said Anna, watching the Brigadier's stony, unchanging expression as she spoke.

"Goodness!" exclaimed the barrister. "What sort of cases do you take?"

"None. In the three months since I established myself as an investigator, I haven't had a single client. I'm really rather glad. I have plenty of time to read in peace. I think that in the unlikely event of someone turning up with a case for me to solve, or a suspect to follow, I should deeply resent the intrusion. That is why I've made no effort to advertise the existence of the Wellington Bureau. Apart from you two, I don't believe anyone knows of its existence."

Banks-Enfield gave his deep, rippling laugh again. "Odd way to run a business. I won't be investing in your enterprise."

"I don't believe that Lady Quartermain is serious," said the Brigadier.

"I've bought a camera as well as a filing cabinet," said Anna, in as earnest a tone as she could muster.

"Well, I like the name," said the barrister, content that she was just teasing them. "The Wellington Bureau!"

"Named after the soldier?" enquired the Brigadier, hoping that she was just teasing them, but not as convinced of the fact as he would have liked to be.

"No. After the dog."

"No doubt the dog was named after the soldier," suggested Banks-Enfield.

"After the boot, actually. According to Andrew he used to chew them as a puppy."

"Have you been down to Quartermain House?" asked the Brigadier.

Anna shook her head.

"No, I won't go to the house for a while. I expect that Douglas has everything under control. I saw something of Toby whilst I was staying in St George's Square; but he was out a lot and very kindly didn't clutter the place with his friends whilst I was there. Eventually I'll get round to inviting him to my new office. He might know of some possible clients."

"You mustn't isolate yourself. Toby could introduce you to some of his friends."

Anna smiled, but said nothing. Then, deciding that her affairs had been talked of quite enough for one evening, she turned to Banks-Enfield,

"How did you like the Bird twins? Or is a barrister always impartial?"

Having turned the focus of the conversation to Banks-Enfield, they spent the evening listening to legal anecdotes, some of which were amusing. It was only as they were parting that the Brigadier had the opportunity to tell Anna that he would certainly come to see her new home and she to inform him of her Holland Park address.

Toby was Anna's first visitor. She had not actually got round to telling him the address, let alone inviting him, but neither of these details stopped the young viscount turning up on the doorstep and demanding admittance.

"I'm glad you didn't bring a swarm of friends."

"After the frosty reception I used to get from my father, I've learnt better. May I kiss you stepmother?" his tone, as always, was flippant.

Anna permitted a kiss and a hug. "Come to my office!" They mounted the stairs to the second floor, from which the strains of Mozart sounded, strident and threatening. "I'd got as far as Dies Irae and Beaujolais. I'll spare you the torment but pour you some wine." Anna took the half empty bottle from the fridge. Toby, meanwhile, was opening drawers and examining the contents. The bottom drawer of the filing cabinet contained a case of wine, a dictionary and a volume of poetry by Larkin. The top drawer contained a biro and a dead fly. The fly he picked up fastidiously between two fingers.

"I'm surprised you've been here long enough for corpses."

"The corpse came with the cabinet. But, talking about corpses – I am now an investigation agency. You may tell your friends. If any of them has an unidentified body in their bathroom or any such commonplace problem, just send them to me."

"My friends must be dull. I can't recall any of them ever finding a corpse. I don't think we can manage anything more exciting than the occasional burglary."

"Never mind. I'm called the Wellington Bureau. Just spread the name about amongst selected friends and we'll see what happens. I've even had some cards made. Strictly for my own amusement. I'll give you a dozen before you go."

"Where are you accomplices?" Toby glanced around at the large room with its desk, settee, bookshelves, fridge, and expanse of otherwise empty space.

"Who? Oh, Bill and Ben?"

"Is that really what they are called? How quaint."

"Mothers do not always take the care they should over diminutives. Their mother had Gladstone and Disraeli in mind."

"Any chance of a spot of lunch?" Toby, having looked in or on everything else in his boundless curiosity, peeped hopefully into the fridge. Apart from several bottles of Beaujolais there was a partly eaten piece of cheese and a carton of milk. Toby sniffed it and passed it to Anna, who took it from him and emptied the contents down the sink.

"I've been meaning to get rid of it in case Brigadier Butterworth turns up."

"Father's one and only friend."

"One is quite enough."

"I prefer a gaggle. You know I could introduce you to some beautiful young men. Do you like blonds or brunettes?"

"Neither. And certainly no one under forty, so that rules out the motley crew you associate with."

Toby had found a fresh loaf and was cutting himself some of the cheese. "Blond. Father, rest his soul, was blond. I have this angelic friend called Percy with lovely golden curls."

"No, thank you."

"Seriously, Anna, if you get bored or lonely, just let me know. My diary is cram-full and no one would object to me bringing my charming stepmother with me."

"My new career occupies me full time."

"An investigation agency did you say?" Toby bit into the cheese. "Well, it will make a good conversation piece. I'll tout for business on your behalf by all means. Is that why you picked up the two bank robbers?"

"I didn't pick them up. But you are probably quite right; I'm bound to need to do a bit of house-breaking in pursuit of my criminal. They can instruct me."

"Anna, I do believe you are teasing me!"

"My brother said that when I spoke to him the other day. Funnily enough, the only one who doesn't think I am teasing is Brigadier Butterworth."

Harris Butterworth, having given a warning phone call beforehand, visited Anna's Holland Park residence a week after Toby. As it happened, however, he arrived at the same time as the twins returned from a voyage of discovery around several rather smart car showrooms, and they were giggling about the distinctly sceptical reaction their enquiries had provoked. They were still living with their parents and commuting to London, but there was room for them to sleep "over the shop" if need be. Their presence, however, clearly made the Brigadier more reserved and silent than usual, so Anna sent them off to buy a couple of geraniums in the hope that he would unfreeze a little. He unfroze enough to ask after the promised wine and he seemed happy enough to be taken on a guided tour of the house.

"You have been very scathing about my new career, but what are you up to in London?" Anna asked when they were back in her office.

"I still have some involvement with my regiment on an unofficial level."

Anna would have been interested to hear more, but the Brigadier did not invite further enquiry, instead he changed the subject, asking,

"What is William going to do while his brother plays the chauffeur?"

"Oh, I don't know. Deal with my paper work, if I ever have any. Cook, if he doesn't object. They are both quite happy looking at cars." A curious thought dawned on Anna. "Just how was it you knew that Ben was the driver?" The twins had taken their tests at the same time but Bill had failed

"Perhaps Giles mentioned something of the sort to me."

"Nonsense! You've been checking up on them!"

The Brigadier remained apparently unperturbed by the accusation. "It is always a good idea to know as much as possible about the people who work for you."

Anna was a little annoyed. "I'm sure you mean well, but I can deal with my own affairs. I don't need a guardian angel." Her annoyance grew rather than diminished and the Brigadier obviously decided that it was best for him to keep his visit brief. But before he left he asked, with the faintest glimmer of humour in his eyes,

"Is business brisk?"

"Brisk enough, thank you!" replied Anna shortly.

In fact, had he called a couple of days later his sarcasm would have been unwarranted.

It was at the end of the second week of March, nearly nine months after the tragic death of Augustus Andrew Quartermain and his daughter Emma, that Lady Parry turned up at Anna's Holland Park office.

"Are you the Wellington Bureau?" was her initial enquiry when Anna answered the door clad in a loose dress and a pair of woolly socks. She had not expected to be disturbed. The twins had been sent off to look round the National Gallery and to bring back a dozen or so posters and postcards of their choice for the office.

"Yes. Can I help you?" It was chilly and damp and Anna asked, a little belatedly, "Will you come in?" They mounted to the second floor office and Anna turned down her music and cleared a space on the settee so that her guest could sit. "May I offer you a drink?" Anna was well trained in the social arts, although she rarely chose to exercise them. "I've mulled some wine."

"Coffee, perhaps?"

Anna prepared some whilst making some comments about the inclemency of the weather. The woman seemed distinctly nervous. She was a small, fair-haired lady in her early forties. Her figure was trim, her hands beautifully manicured, and her clothes exquisite. Nonetheless, as Anna handed her the coffee, she observed that there was a faded, washed-out quality about her. Her carefully styled hair lacked lustre, her skin lacked bloom, and her eyes lacked sparkle.

"Toby gave me your card. I wasn't sure from what he said whether you really were involved in some sort of investigation agency. But, well, I didn't want to go to the police. And I knew your husband. Years ago, of course. I was so sorry to hear about the accident." She sat in silence for a moment, turning an emerald and diamond ring round and round on her index finger. Anna gave her time to sort out her thoughts and to broach the subject of her visit. "It is because you know Toby that I thought you might be able to help. He is a friend of Warren's. They've known each other since they were boys. Susan Furnival was at school with me." Another pause to twist the ring. "It is Warren I'm worried about."

Warren, Anna surmised, was her son. She vaguely recalled a Julia Parry who had been Toby's girlfriend – still was, for all she knew.

"I know it's quite usual for them to get through a lot of money at that age. He's just twenty-two," she added by way of explanation. "But he was so careful at Cambridge. He never exceeded his allowance. There's a lot of money in trust for him until his twenty-fifth birthday. He has been borrowing on the strength of that. But he has an ample allowance and he has a job now. He works for his uncle, Harold Gurney. You may know him?"

Anna shook her head.

"He's a commodity broker. Warren is doing very well. But I thought he might have chosen to work for his father. He always planned to. But Warren has been behaving so strangely. He always got on well with his father. Of course they had their disagreements, but now Warren hasn't a civil word to say to him. And he isn't as open as he used to be. His whole personality has changed." Her pretty face was crumpled with worry.

"When did you notice the change?"

"He became very moody last autumn. He had just come back from Europe. He went with Toby and Philip; that's his cousin, Philip Gurney. That nice young man, Percy, was with them, and Julia and Caroline. Perhaps you know them all? They are all Toby's friends."

"Andrew saw very little of his son and I think Toby only brought his friends to Quartermain House once. I do remember Julia. She's your daughter I take it?"

Lady Parry relaxed into a smile. "Yes. She and Toby have always been great friends. She's set herself up as an interior decorator with Lady Caroline Farrer. They are doing very well." She glanced around Anna's room as if to ascertain whether there was any chance of her daughter's talents being utilized there.

"What is it you would like me to do?"

This direct question seemed to unnerve her again.

"Oh, well, I just want to know if he is any kind of trouble. I've tried asking but he simply won't tell me anything. Perhaps Toby knows more about what my son gets up to than I do. I wouldn't be at all surprised."

"Do you have any suspicions? Is there anything in particular that worries you?" Anna's question was quite pointed.

"Well, I thought...that is...I was afraid that there might possibly be a chance that, perhaps..."

"You thought he might have got into drugs?"

Lady Parry looked at Anna with relief. She had read her mind. "Do you think it is possible?"

"I have no idea. I could find out with relative ease, I expect. Toby is always trying to persuade me to meet his friends. Perhaps I'll take him up on his offer and keep a discreet eye on your son and his friends. I might learn something."

"I would be so grateful, Lady Quartermain."

"Please call me Anna." She could not see that it would prove a difficult case to solve. She would say to Toby, "What's up with your friend Warren?" and he'd say, "Oh, it's the drink!" or "the drugs!" or "It must be that woman!"

"Well," she said out loud, "I'll have a word with Toby and see if I can worm my way into the heart of his little group of friends. I expect he's got something on this weekend that I can go along to."

"Of course!" exclaimed Lady Parry. "The Furnivals are having a party. It's Sir Angus's birthday. Everyone is going, including my son and your stepson so...Oh!" She stopped short as a thought struck her. "I forgot! How tactless of me."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow?" said Anna.

"Susan Furnival," explained Lady Parry, clearly surprised that Anna did not understand the nature of her faux pas. "Toby's mother."

Anna had heard mention of Susan, Andrew's first wife, but knew little, if anything, about her. She had even heard the Brigadier refer to Lady Furnival, but she had never made the connection. She and Andrew had parted the better part of two decades ago and he rarely, if ever, mentioned her except occasionally to ask Toby, "How is your mother?" or "How is Susan?" Toby, of course, always referred to her as mother.

"Forgive me for being obtuse, but I didn't realise that Lady Furnival was Toby's mother. I've always heard her referred to as Susan. I take it you think that she would be embarrassed if Toby took me along to her party?"

"Nothing would embarrass Susan. In fact, I'm certain she would not mind. After all, it was a long time ago, and there was never any ill feeling about the divorce. I was thinking of you."

"I'd be interested to meet her. Well, I'll get Toby to sound her out. Not that he is renowned for his tact and diplomacy. But if you are sure she would not resent my presence or my friendship with Toby?"

Lady Parry shook her head. "Susan is the perfect lady and the perfect hostess. She would make you quite welcome."

"Well, I'll see what I can do. Will you be there?"

"Yes."

"It's probably best if we act as if we have not met. Warren might put two and two together and then I'll never find out anything."

"Of course. Thank you so much, Anna."

Four

The twins stood proudly by the sleek white car.

"It looks rather nice," said Anna, looking at it sceptically. "Very smart. Does it go fast?"

Bill started an excited babble of facts, "...six cylinders...3560cc...fuel injection..." were phrases that caught Anna's ear. She was left with the impression it went quite as fast as the law allowed, probably a good deal faster.

"Jaguar?" her attention was caught by a piece of information she could understand. "That is what the Brigadier drives. It must be a sound sort of car. A bit glossy for everyday use. When Bill learns to drive, I'll get something else for ordinary wear. One of those funny, hump-back things with a roof that rolls off."

Bill looked taken aback. "Not a 2CV?" he said in disgust.

"Could be. But you could take it in turns to drive this. I'm glad it turned up today. I'll be needing it tonight. As for now, would you mind dropping me off outside a nice large clothes shop?"

Anna had spoken to Toby the previous night. "About that friendly offer I turned down...to meet some of your friends. I've changed my mind. I'm feeling a bit dull. Anything exciting I could be towed along to without too much inconvenience to your good self? Somewhere I could meet lots of new people. The beautiful young men you promised me."

"I'm staggered by your sudden burst of sociability. But you've picked a good weekend. Mother's having a bash. Celebrating the fact that Angus is one year closer to the grave. You won't object to meeting mother? Giving parties is the one thing she is really splendid at."

"Will you ask her if she minds me gate-crashing?"

"There's no need for that."

"I'd rather you asked."

"OK. Oh, and I should warn you that you'll need to put on your best bib and tucker...haul the family jewels out of the bank vault and suchlike."

"Not seriously?"

"Yes. Proper evening tog."

"I meant about the jewels?"

There were some Quartermain jewels. Anna had seen them once, although she had never had occasion to wear them, nor, come to that, to wear evening clothes. Andrew had only shown them to her as a curiosity because of the heavy old settings. Of course, strictly speaking, they belonged to Toby now.

"Well, I won't be wearing them," he said, as if reading her mind. "So you might as well. They haven't seen the light of day for donkeys' years, let alone a good cleavage. I'll pick them up for you if you like?"

"Not all of them! Just pick out a nice necklace. Forget the earrings. They were a bit substantial, if I remember rightly. I don't think my ears could support them. And try and find the least ostentatious necklace you can. I don't want it to look like the family jewels, but I don't possess any other jewellery."

"What! No love-gifts from father?"

"He wasn't a love-gift sort of man," replied Anna shortly.

There is something about the prospect of meeting a man's first wife that makes a second wife suddenly self-conscious of her appearance. Even someone as little personally vain as Anna Quartermain was a victim of this syndrome. She dimly recalled having been told that Susan Quartermain had been a great beauty. Could Andrew have said such a thing? However, she must be in her forties now and there would be some going-off. Having lost the lovely flush of youth she would have taken refuge in sophistication. She would wear something in dark silk, probably black, with a high neck. Anna resolved to wear something with soft ruffles and bows and a very low neck.

In fact Anna, who believed her self-confidence to be unassailable, found herself strangely beset by nerves. It wasn't just the idea of meeting Lady Furnival, it was the fact that she had never attended any social event of greater magnitude than a dinner for three. Andrew had not socialized with any of the aristocracy of which he was nominally a part. And she was certainly not one of them. Her background was solidly middle class. Not that she had ever considered the fact before. In the lovely, insular world she had inhabited, such details had no meaning. She guessed, quite rightly, that in the circle she was about to enter, they would.

Anna wore a frill-less, bow-less dress of ivory satin. Her shoulders were covered, but enough of her throat revealed to allow for the sort of jewel she anticipated. When she saw the necklace Toby had brought she was horrified. It was an ostentatious ornament. Rubies and diamonds to sit about her neck, and a single tear-drop diamond surrounded by rubies to hang in smug opulence on the extremity of her naked flesh, just brushing the satin. It was fortunate she had chosen such a simple garment. Anna found that she had been as wrong in her imaginings of Lady Furnival's dress as of her own. She was correct in one particular only. It was black. And the years had not flawed her beauty. Anna could see at once why Andrew had married her. He had never denied his predilection for pretty women and here was something more than mere prettiness. Nor was it the patrician beauty she had expected. There was character, intelligence, challenge in her face. Deep blue, long lashed eyes, set at a slight slant, a wide expressive mouth, high cheek-bones and an air of imperturbable good breeding. What Anna was more at a loss to understand was why such a woman should have married the bookish, eccentric Viscount Quartermain. He had a peculiar charm of his own, but he could never have been a general favourite. Here, at least, was a mystery for her to solve!

Toby introduced her as soon as she arrived.

"Lady Quartermain, I'm delighted to meet you." Anna was offered a slim hand to shake. The voice expressed genuine delight. But she was the consummate hostess.

"I hope you didn't mind Toby inviting me at such short notice?"

"Not at all. I was so sorry to hear about Andrew. It must have been terrible for you. And your daughter too. I'm so sorry." She was not one to shy from awkward subjects and her sympathy sounded heart-felt. Anna preferred this approach to the embarrassed skirting of the facts that she had encountered in her brother and such of his friends as she had met.

"Emma wasn't Anna's daughter," said Toby, with his usual flair for tactless comments. His mother looked momentarily embarrassed, whether for her mistake or for her son Anna could not tell. Anna smiled,

"She wasn't my natural daughter. But I looked after her from the time she was a baby. Most people assumed that she was mine."

"You both arrived on the scene at the same time," said Toby, by way of explanation.

"Toby, you do have an unfortunate way with words," chided his mother.

Anna laughed. "I'm used to Toby. The fact is that Emma was Andrew's child. I never got round to asking who the mother was." Anna cleared up the point before Toby made any more unfortunate comments.

"Now I feel as if I've pried most awfully. Toby, do run along and let me talk to Lady Quartermain in peace before you embarrass us any more!"

He obliged with a look and gesture of mock repentance.

Lady Furnival guided Anna to a small couch. "I really was sorry to hear about Andrew. I haven't seen him for several years. You will know that our marriage was a disaster; but I was always fond of him."

"Yes. He was as difficult to dislike as he was to live with."

Lady Furnival laughed. "You managed better than I."

"I shared his interests and dislikes."

"I shared neither."

Anna found that she had an immediate bond with Lady Furnival. They had something fundamental in common. They had both loved and lived with the same man. If they had avoided the subject for fear of offence, they would have been awkward and wary. Anna thought she understood why Susan Furnival was a hostess par excellence. She knew how to deal with people.

"Has Toby introduced you to many of his friends?"

Anna shook her head. "He has promised to." She glanced around at the hundred or more guests who filled the room and spilled out of the adjoined marquee onto the lawn beyond. "In fact, I can honestly say I don't know a soul here apart from Toby."

"Well, I won't leave you entirely at his mercy for introductions. But you must know Harris Butterworth? He has been invited, although I've not seen him yet. He'll come and be politely withdrawn for five minutes, pay his respects, and leave."

It hadn't dawned on Anna that Susan Furnival would know the Brigadier. But of course he had been Andrew's friend for many years.

"The Brigadier? I can hardly imagine him in his party clothes. In fact, he has been very kind to me, although he does rather keep an eye on me as if I was a wayward child."

Susan Furnival laughed. "He used to do that to Andrew in his wild and impetuous youth."

"Andrew's wild and impetuous youth?" Anna clarified.

"Oh, yes. I didn't mean to suggest the Brigadier was ever wild or impetuous!"

"It is rather hard to imagine."

"You knew Helena Butterworth?" asked Susan Furnival.

"I only met her once. The Brigadier brought her to tea with us. She was in a wheelchair by then."

"Poor Helena. She was the sweetest natured person I've ever met. Totally devoted to Harris, and she would have been the very best mother if only they could have had children. Ah! Here are some people you must meet." She referred to a portly man with sleek dark hair and an air of well being, and a small blonde woman in a sequined dress. For a second Anna thought the woman was Lady Parry, but this woman had a slightly fuller face and figure, and all the sparkle and animation that Anna's first client had seemed to lack.

"Elizabeth, come and meet Lady Quartermain. Lady Quartermain, this is Harold Gurney and his wife, Elizabeth. Their eldest son is a great friend of Toby's. They were at Cambridge together."

Anna stood up from the couch and shook hands as polite greetings were muttered and she desperately tried to remember whether it was from Lady Parry or Toby she had heard the name of HaroId Gurney. She had vague recollections of Philip's name being mentioned by Toby.

"... heard so much about you from Toby..." Elizabeth Gurney was saying.

"....lucky to have such a charming young stepmother..." Harold Gurney was saying, with a good humoured chuckle.

"Lady Quartermain has just moved from Herefordshire," Susan Furnival gave them all the opening for conversation.

"You've bought a place?"

"Yes. By Holland Park."

"Really! I was there myself yesterday. I was visiting Astrid Lamb-Kurton. Do you know the Lamb-Kurtons?"

Anna admitted that she did not.

"Well, they must be neighbours of yours. What a pity they couldn't come tonight. But, of course, you must meet them sometime."

Anna agreed that she must.

"Next time I'm in Holland Park, I will call in on you!"

"I still haven't finished decorating. The place is a bit of a mess," was Anna's response to this threat.

"Ah, well I must introduce you to my niece. She's an interior decorator."

Anna's curiosity was aroused.

"How very interesting. What is her name?"

"Well, they call themselves...what is it they call themselves, Harold?"

"I can't recall."

"Oh, well, some very trendy name. The Design-Something or the Something-Design Group, I believe." She laughed prettily at her own forgetfulness. "Anyway, Julia – she's my niece – set it up with Caroline Farrer, the Earl of Downhampton's daughter, and they are doing very well. They will plan it all for you if you like. They co-ordinate everything. I believe they did Gordon Drummond's place."

This, then, must be Lady Parry's sister. The resemblance was enough to convince Anna.

"Julia is here tonight." Elizabeth Gurney stood on tiptoes and glanced about in the hope of spotting her niece. She failed. "Oh, well, she will probably be with Toby. Is that on or off at the moment?" Her train of thought changed abruptly and she cocked her head questioningly and looked at Susan Furnival.

"Goodness, I don't know! Their relationship is on and off so frequently that I simply can't keep up with it. I find that it is usually best to assume that it is on. It is only the degree to which it is "on" that varies."

Lady Furnival then excused herself and went to greet some of her other guests and Anna was left with the Gurneys until Elizabeth spied an old acquaintance and the Brigadier appeared at Anna's side simultaneously. Harold stayed to exchange a few words with Harris Butterworth but was soon beckoned away by his wife, and he apologised to them, said how charmed he was to have met Anna, and went to rejoin her, fortifying himself on the way with a glass of Champagne taken from a laden silver tray wielded by a young man in uniform.

"Would you like another drink, Lady Quartermain?" the Brigadier asked, seeing the tray close at hand.

"I think I might," replied Anna.

The Brigadier made a gesture and the steward weaved his way through the crowd, balancing the tray with some skill, and the Brigadier took two glasses with a nod of thanks. "You are looking very nice," he said. Anna acknowledged the compliment with a slight bob of a curtsy. "I'm delighted to see you here. It must be pleasant for you to meet people of your own age."

"So far I have spoken to no one under forty, and you will only bring up the average."

"Did you not come with Toby?"

"I came at his invitation and, to be honest, I have spoken to him and he is under forty."

"You have met Lady Furnival?"

"I have. And took an instant liking to her. The prospect of meeting Andrew's first wife was a little strange, but she has a gift for putting people at their ease."

"I have always thought very well of Susan," said the Brigadier. It was one of his favourite expressions of approbation; vague, yet perfectly polite.

"Toby gets his looks from his mother."

The Brigadier nodded. He was looking well-starched, Anna thought. Immaculately but sombrely dressed, his fair, thinning hair smoothed back and his carriage – the only word to describe the posture of a military man – was erect, if a little stiff. Anna wondered if he ever loosened up. Had he ever taken a few too many glasses of port after dinner in the officer's mess and become recklessly verbose? She thought not. Here was a man who never let his guard drop.

"You know Harold Gurney, I take it?" Anna found that she couldn't be relaxed standing with a silent companion.

"Yes. I have known his wife for many years. You spoke to Elizabeth?"

"Yes, a talkative lady. I gather that Toby knows her niece quite well?" If he is not going to be conversational, he can at least help me sort out my facts, Anna thought.

"You must mean Julia Parry, Amanda Parry's daughter."

"Yes, that's right. Amanda Parry is Elizabeth's sister, I take it?"

The Brigadier nodded. "Have you met Lady Parry?" he asked.

"Um...no. I've heard her name mentioned by Toby, I believe." Anna blushed very slightly. She found that she disliked being less than honest with him even on so small a point. Fortunately he changed the subject.

"Now you've settled down in London, have you given any thought to what you are going to do?"

It annoyed Anna that the Brigadier persisted in raising this subject. "I wasn't planning to do anything other than running the Wellington Bureau."

"Had you thought of going back to university? You were studying history, I believe?" It seemed that he was determined to see her take up some sensible occupation.

"I disliked university the first time round. What's the point in returning now?"

"You are older. You might feel differently. A history degree would be very useful if you thought of pursuing an academic career."

"I will not be bullied back to university. Not even to please you!"

Toby joined them at the crucial moment. "You are supposed to be meeting all my charming young friends. It's no good talking to Harris, you already know him."

"We were having a very diverting disagreement. Anyway, you haven't kept up your side of the bargain. Where are all those golden-haired youths? Incidentally, who is the Adonis?" Ann indicated the solitary figure who was scanning the dancers in the marquee with an arrogant and critical eye.

"Why, Anna, the very young man you turned down so peremptorily! That's young Percy Blyth. And you are in luck! He and Caroline seem to have had a bit of a tiff. I believe Julia is comforting her at this very moment."

"In that case I shall once again decline the offer of an introduction. He may be an exceptionally beautiful young man, but I know better than to come between a spurned woman and her love."

"Oh, bosh: Percy is spurning women all the time. That's why they like him!"

"He doesn't sound like a very nice young man."

"Percy is perfectly charming. He's also a cricket blue and took a first in history. Can you really afford to ignore him?"

"Has the man no faults?"

"Only the woman-spurning, but you have been forewarned."

"All right. You may introduce me. Brigadier, do you wish to meet this Percy fellow? After all, he did study history, which should recommend him to you in your present mood."

The Brigadier declined and instead Anna observed that he made his way over to Lady Parry, who was standing next to a man with sadly receded grey hair but a memorable moustache, whom Anna assumed was her husband.

"Bother!" she muttered.

"Why the faint curse, Anna? Butterworth? I didn't think the man sank to verbal abuse. He usually settles for disdainful silence. At least that's the method he has always used on me. And a man with a more effective silence I have never met. He terrified me as a small boy. When I was a small boy, I mean. Harris can never have been a small boy. He was born in his uniform. I used to hide under the bed whenever he visited!"

Anna laughed. "Maybe I should try that! We weren't really arguing. It's just that he is always telling me to do sensible things which I don't want to do."

"Ah! A surrogate daughter. Remember, he had no children of his own."

"You may well be right. Perhaps I'll try to be kinder to him."

The young Adonis called Percy greeted Toby with the raise of one eyebrow. "I am a philosopher! In this world but not of it. It is vastly entertaining to watch how others behave at a party and, more particularly, on the dance floor. Ah..." He seemed to observe that Anna had been brought forward for an introduction. He took her hand and kissed it, looking boldly into her eyes as he did so. Anna thought him a poseur, but forgave him instantly as he carried off his pose so very well. "I'm honoured," he murmured.

"This is my stepmother, Lady Quartermain. Anna, this is my ass of a friend, Percy. Do not give credence to a word that he says."

"Hallo Percy," said Anna, marvelling at the handsome features, his mop of artistically dishevelled hair, and the cool blue eyes which observed her so acutely for a few moments.

"Disgusting display of wealth is it not?" he encompassed the inhabitants of the room with a gesture of his elegant long-fingered hand. Anna could not think he was making a serious statement. He appeared to be so arrogantly aristocratic himself that he could hardly be permitted to make such a comment unchallenged.

"It is at least a tasteful display of wealth," she said. "And they do us the kindness of feeding us – they will feed, us, Toby?"

"Some sort of buffet, I expect."

"Will you refuse to eat, on principle?" Anna asked Percy.

"Alas, no. I am in need of charity."

"Where did Julia and Caroline disappear to?" asked Toby.

"Goodness knows."

"Are they the two who run the interior decorators which has been so frequently recommended to me?"

"Recommended by members of their doting families, no doubt. It is what is known as a family business – bought by the father for the daughter."

"Caroline's father provided financial backing," explained Toby. "Hallo! I've just spotted Warren and Philip. You met them years ago, Anna, but I don't expect you'll remember them. One minute and I'll drag them over!" He disappeared in the direction of the dance floor.

"Are you not the lady who has set up an investigation agency? I recall Toby mentioning something of the sort."

"Oh, it's all a bit of a joke really," said Anna, not wishing to embark on the subject in view of her present enterprise. At the same time, she glanced over to where Harris appeared to be deep in conversation with Lady Parry. She hoped that no mention of her first case was being made by the lady. Surely she would be more tactful and cautious? In fact, it appeared to be less of a conversation and more of a monologue on the part of Amanda Parry.

"But you were involved in a bank robbery?" Percy was saying.

"You make it sound as if I was the perpetrator of the crime!" Anna said, turning her attention back to the young man.

"I would have had nothing but admiration for you if you had been. Unless, of course, you made as much of a blunder of it as the real criminals did."

"Did you read about it in the papers?"

"I did. And I have one of your cards that Toby gave me. I was an admirer of yours even before I saw you," he said.

"I'm flattered," Anna replied. There was a flirtatiousness in his manner, but she did not resent it. In fact, after she had drunk enough Champagne to make her feel frivolous, she might even enjoy it. But before she succumbed to such distractions, she wished to meet her quarry. Toby was making his way back to her with two immaculately dressed young men in tow. The shorter of the two was a colourless man with mousey hair, pale eyelashes, and doleful brown eyes. The other was taller and darker with an altogether sharper look about him.

"This is the Honourable Warren Parry," Toby introduced the pale man. "And this his not dishonourable cousin, Philip."

After five minutes Anna decided that it was as well that she had an ulterior motive for being interested in Warren Parry. He was a quiet young man who hardly managed to contribute two words to the witty banter kept up by his more confident cousin, the flamboyant Percy, and the boisterously good-humoured Toby. Anna felt rather sorry for him. After all, he had a nice face.

All the time Anna was talking to Toby's friends she had been aware of the fact that Harris Butterworth was speaking with Amanda Parry, and she couldn't help wondering what formed the subject of their discussion. When she got a chance, she excused herself and went and joined them saying,

"I hope I'm not interrupting you?"

Amanda Parry turned pink and looked rather flustered by her appearance, although whether this was because she had been speaking about her or because she had to pretend that she had never met her, Anna could not at first tell. The Brigadier at least looked pleased, if not relieved, to see her.

"Ah, Lady Quartermain! Allow me to introduce you to Lady Parry."

"Er...so lovely to meet you!" fluttered the lady.

Anna was reassured that nothing about their previous meeting had been said. The Brigadier would never have pretended to think that an introduction was required had he known. She only hoped that he would not wonder at the flutter of nerves that her appearance had induced in Lady Parry.

"I would... um...introduce you to my husband..." she was saying, but the moustached man she glanced towards as she spoke was deeply embroiled in a debate with a thin, wizened man whom Anna judged to be at least in his eighties.

Later in the evening there was some more sedate dancing than that which Percy Blyth had observed with so sardonic an eye. Anna danced several times with Percy, feeling rather mean, as a pallid-looking girl with some beautiful flowers in her hair and large forget-me-not blue eyes had turned up and proved to be Lady Caroline Farrer. She watched them dolefully until asked to dance by Warren. Proof, Anna thought, of what a nice young man he was. Percy, however, for all his airs and arrogance was marvellous company, although Anna guessed that it might be unwise to take him too seriously. During one dance she observed that his eyes, which were so disconcertingly penetrating, had lowered their gaze from her face. She wondered whether it was her cleavage or her necklace which was the object of his admiration. She asked him.

Percy laughed, and said, "A virtuous woman is priced far above rubies!"

Anna smiled. "Very nicely said. But you have no guarantee of my virtue."

A little later Percy danced with the slighted Caroline whilst Anna took to the floor with her stepson.

"I like Julia and Warren. Not that they are very alike. Julia is so full of life and Warren has a mournful look about him." She felt that she had made no progress on her case that evening and was fishing for information.

"That's just Warren for you. But he's a good chap. Anyway, I thought that you only had eyes for Percy!"

"That's nonsense. Although he is rather dashing. But I'm not remotely interested, so you can take that look off your face. Anyway, I was interested in Julia because she's your girlfriend. Isn't she?"

"Well, sort of."

"What is that supposed to mean? You must know her pretty well by now. I thought you knew the whole family."

"Mother and Amanda Parry were at school together. They've always been good friends along with Philip's mother, Elizabeth. Warren and Philip were the nearest thing I had to brothers. There's Timothy, of course, but he's so much younger." Anna had seen young Timothy Furnival and his sister, Arabella, earlier in the evening. They were Susan Furnival's children from her second marriage.

"What is Amanda Parry like?" Anna could see no reason not to ask a direct question. Toby was unlikely to guess why she was interested.

"Nice enough. A bit neurotic."

"What makes you say that?"

"She tried to do herself in once. About four years back. It gave Warren a hell of a shock. And the rest of the family, of course. But Warren always idolized his mother. I was still at Cambridge then. Warren came down to stay with Philip shortly after it had happened and he was in a terrible state. He was just coming up to his A levels and everyone thought he would plough them, but he did jolly well in the end."

Anna was quite taken aback. "What on earth made her do something like that?"

"She discovered her husband in bed with his secretary."

"Is that a reason to think that she is a neurotic sort of person in general? It sounds to me like she had good reason to be upset."

"Maybe. But she is always fidgeting about something or another, always worrying about nothing."

Anna was left wondering if her client was merely imagining the fact that there was something amiss with her son. They returned to the little group of Toby's friends, and Percy was just in the process of asking Anna for another dance, much to the chagrin of Lady Caroline, when the Brigadier intervened.

"A dance, my dear?" he asked, taking her firmly by the elbow and leading her to the dance floor.

"Perhaps later?" she said over her shoulder to Percy. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lady Caroline.

"Poor Percy," said Anna.

"Nonsense; he has monopolized you all evening. I just require one dance before I go." Anna was surprised to find that the Brigadier danced with as much grace as Percy had done.

"I wouldn't have thought you were a dancer," she said. "I thought that the army limited their manoeuvres to the battlefield."

"A good army officer is adaptable to all circumstances," he replied in crisp tones. After their single dance he returned her to Percy and wished them goodnight.

When Anna reached her own home in the early hours of the next morning, she was neither too tired nor too drunk to be able to consider the interesting fact that she had enjoyed herself. For someone who thought that joy had gone forever from her life, and who, furthermore, had never believed it possible to derive any pleasure from being crushed in amongst a hundred or more partying people, this was surprising. She felt rather guilty. It seemed to her rather indecent to enjoy herself with Andrew not dead a year. Indeed, it was almost disloyal of her to enjoy something which he would have disliked so decidedly. But hadn't the Brigadier said that she would start to care about things again? Not that she cared so very much about anything. She was a little interested in the problems of the Parry family, but they had not dominated her thoughts that evening. She had learnt nothing of any use. What, then, had made the difference? Surely not the beguilement of the amorous young Percy? No! She dismissed the idea. Her life with Andrew had been one of absolute happiness. All Percy's beauty, wit and flattery could not fill the aching gap left by the loss of a companion with whom she had been so perfectly at one.

Nonetheless, Anna passed a disturbed night, maybe as a result of the wine and the rich food.

Five

On the morning, or rather the afternoon, after the Furnival's party, Anna was woken by the harsh purr of her telephone. She sat up, winced, and lifted the receiver,

"Good morning."

"Anna? You sound rough!" piped out a cheerful voice. "You'd better go and put your head in a bucket of cold water. You'll be needing a clear brain. We have a bit of sleuthing for you to do."

"Oh, yes," replied Anna, in a tone of voice that suggested she was none too keen on the prospect of solving a crime that particular day. "What's the problem, Toby? Surely not a body in the bathroom?"

"I'm afraid not. Just a common or garden burglary."

"What? You've been burgled?" Anna's interest began to rouse.

"Not me. Mother. I stayed the night – at least, I assume I did as here I am! And lo and behold we wake to discover that thieves came upon us in the night! Exciting, eh?"

"Have they taken much?"

"Oh, this and that. You'll have to ask mother."

"I doubt if she'll want me to interfere."

"Oh, but she does. She told me to get hold of you. She knows all about your sleuthing. I gave her a card."

"My sleuthing amounts to precisely nothing at present. I hope you have not been misleading her?"

"Not at all. Anyway, you must dash round here as soon as you can. The place is swarming with plods, so you'd better get a move on or they'll ruin all the clues."

Anna washed and pulled on a skirt and jumper and some warm socks. Ben was in the kitchen reading one of the more lurid Sunday papers. He had stayed the night after having collected her from the party.

"Want some black coffee?" he enquired.

"Yes, but don't even suggest breakfast."

Ben grinned, clearly understanding how she felt.

"I've got to go back to the Furnival's house. They have very obligingly contracted a case of burglary."

"What, the lot who had the party?"

Anna nodded as she took the cup he offered her.

"Must have been one of the guests," he said.

"I think it was during the night, after the party."

Ben wrinkled his freckled nose. "I bet you anything that is was while everyone was having a knees-up. How much stuff was taken?"

"I don't know. I'm going to find out. I hope they won't mind me turning up. For some reason I don't place much faith in Toby's assurance that my services are required."

The Furnival's house in Regent's Park Terrace was distinguished by the presence of two police cars outside. It was an elegant four storied building, the facade dominated by several large sash windows. Anna was let in by a neatly dressed young woman who asked her name, showed her into a reception room which showed the scars of a recent and successful party, and then went and fetched Lady Furnival. Anna, who had felt some trepidation at turning up possibly uninvited – at what must be a most awkward time, was soon put at her ease.

"Ah, Anna!" They had reached first name terms by the end of the previous evening, "I am glad you've come." Susan Furnival was dressed in a cream silk suit and looked quite as glamorous as she had the previous evening. She also seemed to be unruffled by the combined presence of police and the small army of people required to clear up the usual sort of debris resulting from a good party.

"I was sorry to hear about the burglary. Toby said you'd like me to call, but I wasn't sure if I'd help or hinder proceedings."

"Well, we would appreciate your help. Come through to the study. I'm afraid it's the only room that's not seething with people or in a frightful muddle. Ah, Angus; Lady Quartermain has very kindly agreed to help us track down our thief."

A little pink tinged Anna's cheeks. She couldn't quite cope with the idea of anybody taking her pose as a detective seriously. She was also regretting her socks. She was not used to the sort of person who wore silk and perfume on a casual basis.

"Well, you cannot do a worse job than our friends in blue. So far they have come up with the suggestion that one of our guests might be responsible. Having thus narrowed down the likely suspects to just over a hundred, including one of their most senior officers, they seem bewildered by the lack of any substantial clues." Anna looked on in awe as Sir Angus Furnival poured himself a large whisky. She decided that he must be a very robust man. "Lady Quartermain?" He indicated the decanter.

Anna shook her head, all signs of her pinkness having disappeared. "Has much has been taken?" she asked.

"Only a few items," said Susan Furnival. "But I give the thief credit for his very good taste. He selected some of my favourite jewels including, I'm afraid, an opal and diamond ring which belonged to my grandmother."

"Toby said that the thief crept in during the night. Is it not more likely that he slipped upstairs during the party?"

"Almost certainly," said Sir Angus. "Unfortunately none of us were very observant last night and it was not until this morning that Susan noticed that some of her jewellery was missing."

"In other words, it really could have been any one of your guests. But surely you can eliminate all those you know well?"

"Unfortunately we knew them all well. This was a birthday party: family and friends."

Anna could not conceive of knowing more than three or four people with any intimacy, but then Lady Furnival had apparently devoted years to the art of socializing, and her claim to know a hundred people carried some weight.

"Was there anyone, apart from me, who was asked along at the last minute?"

"No. You were the only person there whom neither of us had met before."

"That probably makes me the most likely suspect! But what about the caterers? One of them might have slipped upstairs."

Lady Furnival shook her head. "The marquee was put up on Friday. All deliveries of flowers, food, wine, etcetera, were taken early yesterday afternoon. All my jewellery was safe when I got dressed for the evening. The catering was done by Pauline Grainger. She has done parties for us before. She has a very good reputation and chooses all her staff most carefully. In any case, they all wore uniforms and would be the very people to arouse suspicion if they had gone upstairs. George was in the hall all evening, answering the door, taking coats, and calling taxis. He would have noticed if anyone had gone upstairs without permission. He is very particular. In fact, I cannot imagine anyone would have gone upstairs and helped themselves to my jewellery. But the fact remains that somebody did. It is all very distressing."

"Are the police still here, Sir Angus?"

"Yes. Still tramping about Susan's room, I think. I'll take you up."

As Anna followed Sir Angus, she noticed several fine paintings on the walls and the occasional elegant little table with a piece of porcelain or sculpture displayed on it. No doubt one or two of the objects that ornamented the house were antiques or originals and would reward any opportunist who picked them up on their way back from the bathroom and slipped them in their handbag or jacket pocket. She had noticed some antique snuff boxes, which were ideal for such a purpose. But most guests know better than to increase their own collection of snuff boxes by swiping those belonging to their host.

Lady Furnival's room was on the fourth floor. It was decorated in shades of peach and gold. The pillowslips were monogrammed with S.F. and edged with gold lace. A vase of fresh flowers stood on the bedside table. It was a distinctly feminine room and the two bulky policemen in their heavy shoes looked somewhat incongruous.

"Detective Inspector Taylor, this is Lady Quartermain. Could you tell her what your boys have found."

The Inspector was a youngish man, tall and bony with thinning hair.

"Good afternoon, Lady Quartermain," he said in a brisk, businesslike voice. "Well, there's not much I can tell you. Somebody has walked in here, opened the jewellery box, and helped themselves. The criminal wore gloves – which is hardly surprising. One of my lads has been asking questions, but so far no one has admitted to seeing any suspicious characters heading for Lady Furnival's room. On the other hand, the house was swarming with people, any one of whom could have come up here."

"What are the chances of catching the thief?"

"Not very high, unless the stolen objects turn up and we can trace him that way. He has been quite careful. There is no evidence. The fact that the crime was not noticed until this morning has not helped. Things have been moved and touched. Frankly, sir, it could have been any one of your guests."

"And nothing was taken but Lady Furnival's jewels?"

"According to the lady, the objects missing are a diamond and opal ring: an oval stone flanked by two square diamonds," the Inspector was reading from his notes, "which she does not consider to be of particular value. A necklace made up of two strands of I8 carat gold with diamonds worth, approximately, £100,000 which, she tells me, would have been in the safe had she not contemplated wearing it last night. She rejected it in favour of a more elaborate, but considerably less expensive piece which better suited the simple style of her dress. It was therefore left on her dressing table. Also taken was a half-eternity ring set with two cabochon, or un-faceted, emeralds, and diamonds. This, she suggests, is worth £2,000."

"Was there nothing else in her jewellery box?" Anna asked.

"Oh, yes. Have a look." Anna did so, and was convinced that the thief had left several thousand pounds behind.

"The rings were in the jewellery box?"

Sir Angus answered. "She keeps some of her less expensive pieces in there, and things like the eternity ring, which she wears quite frequently. All the really valuable jewels are kept in the safe. A couple of items are in the bank."

"Why do you think that the thief left half the things behind?"

"Perhaps someone surprised them," suggested the Inspector.

"Might not that someone have said something about it to Lady Furnival? Or at least told the thief to put the stuff back."

"He heard a noise and panicked, but no one actually caught him," was the next suggestion.

"It still seems strange to me. Why didn't he take it all?" Anna was thinking out loud. "And if he was just after a couple of valuables, why come all the way up here? He walked past several snuff boxes which would have fitted nicely in his pockets and saved him having to take the risk of entering a room he had no right to be in."

"Maybe he didn't know the snuffboxes were valuable."

"Or maybe he just didn't like them," said Anna.

After the police had gone, Anna had tea with the Furnivals.

"Ah, well," sighed Lady Furnival. "They don't sound too confident about catching our thief."

"There weren't really any clues," said Sir Angus. "We must find a picture of you wearing that necklace for the Inspector in case it turns up somewhere. Anyway, Lady Quartermain, what do you make of it all?"

"Well," said Anna, thoughtfully, "I wouldn't say that there were no clues. Certainly the thief left no dirty thumb-print or muddy footmark. Incidentally, the only muddy mark came from the constable, I saw him put it there – but we have a lot of clues to his personality. I thought at first that the only person who would shamelessly rob a friend was someone who was desperate for money, in debt, perhaps." Anna did not mention that she had at first thought of Warren Parry, knowing what she did about his recent borrowings. "But whoever he was doesn't seem to have behaved like a desperate man. He – or she, by the way; we can't rule out a female thief – was calm, calculating and efficient. A person who needed money might have grabbed the first valuable object that came to hand – and there are plenty of those on offer, even pocket-sized ones like the snuff boxes and like the gold cigarette lighter in your room, Sir Angus, which the thief would have walked through to get to Susan's room. And if the person was so desperate for money, why leave behind all those other pieces of jewellery? And why take probably the most easily identified and least valuable piece – the opal ring? The only explanation I can think of, is that the person is a bit of a connoisseur. He, or she, doesn't particularly like snuffboxes. Nor do they smoke. They picked out two of your favourite jewels, and the most expensive for good measure. But whoever it was must have amazing sangfroid. To stroll in, select what he wanted, all without leaving a single clue. He has both the confidence and skill of a professional." Anna paused. "Well, all that is sheer supposition, but it does rather suggest that you boast a jewel thief amongst your extended circle of friends. But, if you did, this would not be the first example of his work. Have any of you friends been robbed recently?"

"Not that I can think of," said Lady Furnival. "Oh, yes! John and Penelope Bennett, in February. The whole place was cleared out whilst they were away one weekend."

Anna wrinkled her nose, "That's no help. I think we are looking for something smaller scale – a ring or necklace missed. Something like that."

"Yes!" Susan Furnival was quite excited. "Amanda Parry lost that ring. She was frantic about it. She phoned up everyone thinking she might have taken it off when she was washing her hands and left it somewhere. But it was never found. She was in tears when I went round to see her. It was her engagement ring."

The Parrys! The connection wasn't lost on Anna. A son behaving oddly. But to take his own mother's engagement ring...

"When was that?"

"Just before Christmas."

When had Warren Parry started to behave oddly? Last autumn. Would he have been driven to stealing his mother's ring by Christmas? She obviously didn't suspect him or she would have mentioned the incident when she had come to see Anna. But if he had taken more of her things, she would have been alerted. So he turned to other people. Anna thought of his doleful eyes. He simply didn't fit with her image of the calm, calculating thief. She was looking for someone with more self confidence, someone sharper. Someone quite unscrupulous.

Toby came in to join them.

"Hallo! All the tea cakes gone? Have you caught our thief?"

"Toby, who do you know who has been burgled or lost anything valuable in the last year?" asked his mother.

"Just about everyone, I should imagine." He bit into a slice of fruit cake.

"Apply your brain to the matter for a minute."

Toby assumed a serious expression as he chewed. "Do you want big burglaries, like the Bennett's and the one at Nick Chester's place in Wales – they even took the dirty laundry he'd left there by mistake. Or just petty larceny?"

"Petty larceny will do," said Anna.

Toby seemed to concentrate on eating for a moment or two whilst his family watched in anticipation. "Got one!" he said triumphantly, his mouth still full of cake.

"Finish your mouthful first! Did I never tell my children not to speak with their mouth full?" Susan said to Anna in mock consternation.

"The Gurneys!"

Warren's aunt and uncle! Anna was struck by the coincidence. But it might be just that, coincidence.

"What was taken?" she asked.

"Oh, just money. In fact, it probably doesn't count. Elizabeth had about five hundred pounds in French francs taken from her handbag. She put it down in a shop or something silly and someone just helped themselves. I only remember because it was such a blasted nuisance. We were setting off for France the next morning and she was getting the cash for all of us. In fact, it was a disastrous holiday from beginning to end, but we all enjoyed it!"

"Who went?" asked Anna.

"Oh, the usual mob. Philip, Warren, Percy; and Julia and Caroline to start with, but they disappeared off on their own when we got to Switzerland for some reason."

"But the money was taken from her whilst she was shopping?"

"Well, it must have been. She had no idea what had happened to it and swore that she had kept an eye on her bag, but we were pretty unimpressed at the time."

"Nothing else was taken from the bag apart from the money?"

"I've no idea. I don't think so. It all happened last September. I think I've done rather well to remember it at all. Anyway, why do you ask? Do you think we have a phantom thief?"

"I don't know. There doesn't seem to be much evidence of his past crimes. Perhaps he'll strike again. I'll remember to keep my doors locked at night."

As Anna was leaving the Furnival's house, she met Amanda Parry on the doorstep. The lady looked startled.

"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here. I just popped round to sympathise with Susan. About the burglary, you know."

"News travels fast," commented Anna, a little taken aback to find her first client on the doorstep of her second client, although she knew that the two of them were friends.

"Oh, well, it didn't have very far to travel. Toby told Julia this morning. He came round before any of us were properly awake."

"You live close by?"

"Goodness, yes. Next door, in fact."

Anna was glad to know this, although it might make the course of action she had in mind fractionally more difficult than it might have been. Anna had decided that she was going to follow Warren Parry. It seemed like a good idea as she knew, or thought she knew, that he was getting up to something peculiar. If she made a note of his actions; the places he went, the people he met, might she not come up with something interesting?

In accordance with this idea, Monday morning saw two private investigators from the Wellington Bureau at a discreet distance from the pair of houses belonging to the Parry's and the Furnival's so as to make a note of the car which Warren Parry drove and his usual route to work. In fact, the first person to leave for work was Sir Angus, who drove a black BMW and left his house at six-forty, a detail which confirmed Anna's belief that he possessed an unusually sound constitution. Warren appeared just after seven-thirty and drove off in a red Peugeot 205 GTi, registration number noted. He then joined the Prince Albert Road, skirted round Regent's Park, followed Marylebone Road eastwards to City Road, went down Moorgate with the Bank of England and the Stock Exchange to his left, and on to his place of work in the City. On subsequent days, Ben and Anna waited for Warren's car in Prince Albert Road so that the inhabitants of Regent's Park Terrace did not remark the presence every morning of a white Jaguar very like the one belonging to Lady Quartermain.

Once Warren had entered the office in which he worked not a whisker was seen of him until lunchtime, when he took ten minutes to buy himself a sandwich at a sandwich bar. After that he re-incarcerated himself until six. He then drove straight back to his parent's home and did not venture out again that evening. The only visitor was Philip Gurney.

This pattern was repeated on the following days, with the exception of Philip's visit. On the Thursday, however, instead of returning home after work, Warren set off on foot in the direction of Covent Garden. Anna hopped out of the Jaguar and followed him, elated by the expectation of catching him in a clandestine meeting with some shady character or another. Perhaps the diamond necklace would be slipped across a table under the cover of his copy of the Financial Times, and a bulging envelope returned in the same manner. She was disappointed to see him meet up with the inevitable Toby and Philip. The three of them took a tube to the Barbican, had a meal in the wine bar, and then went into the centre in time for Handel's Messiah.

Anna, by this time, was heartily fed up. She had spent a large proportion of the preceding days hanging around in the street adjacent to the one in which Harold Gurney had his office, just in case Warren appeared and slunk off to do something mysterious. Since Tuesday, they had followed a set procedure. Ben left Anna after they had tracked the young man safely to his place of work. She then stood about all morning getting cold, often wet, and always cross, ready to hail a taxi and take up the pursuit if need be. Just after two, when all hope of any exciting lunchtime activities had been abandoned, Bill and Ben turned up in the car. Bill was then left on duty during the quiet hours until five, armed with a detailed description of the young man, his clothes, and his car, and instructions to pursue him if he emerged. At about five Ben, Anna and the car would return to await the reappearance of their prey.

Friday morning saw an unwilling and dispirited Ben and Anna taking up their station by Regent's Park.

"Perhaps he does whatever he does at weekends," suggested Ben, drumming his fingers on the dashboard.

"He certainly must do something, sometime to spice up his life a bit. Nobody can spend their time locked up in an office all day and in deepfreeze at their parent's home all evening without making a break for liberty at some point. The more I see of this young man's routine the more I can believe that he has a psychological need to be a jewel thief or a bank robber – Oh! Sorry."

Ben gave the endearing toothy grin which the twins shared.

"Mind you. I'm assuming that his life is as boring to live as it is to watch. Commodity broking is probably most stimulating. I must ask a commodity broker sometime."

"Here he comes. Bang on time!" Ben started the engine.

"Wait a minute. We may as well keep our distance. We know where he's going and we don't want him to spot us. Frankly I'm amazed that he hasn't caught on yet. We should have a different car for each day of the week. Or at least something less conspicuous."

"A Jag's OK in London. Mind you, a motorbike would be good if you had to chase someone. Good for nipping in and out of traffic," said Ben hopefully. "Hang on! He's pulled in. Do you think he's seen us?"

"Carry on past him and when we are out of sight pull in. We'll see how he reacts. If you don't mind, I'll keep my head down. I don't want him to see me or it will confirm his suspicions. Bother! We were being so careful too."

After about five minutes Ben said, "He can't still be waiting. He'd just have driven on again and watched to see if we followed."

"Perhaps he was trying to shake us off. He might have done a U-turn and gone. We should have pulled in behind him so that we could have seen what he did."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Goodness knows."

"There he goes..." The red GTi went past.

"Did he look at us, Ben?"

Ben shook his head. "I couldn't tell. Shall I follow?"

"You might as well. We'll gain nothing from giving up. He might have stopped to find a tape to play or something." After a few minutes, Anna commented, "Well, at least he's taking a new route. Variety is spice of life."

"A mystery tour," said Ben. Then he added, "Maybe he's still watching to see if we follow. He might be driving in circles."

"Then we'll both waste a lot of petrol. Where are we heading?"

"I'm not sure. Westminster? St. James's Park?" After a while Ben said in disgust, "He is just driving in circles." They were outside the Houses of Parliament.

"Keep following."

"He's pulling over!"

"OK. Take a spin round St. James's Park if you can. See if he is still here when we get back."

Ben obliged. "He's gone!" he exclaimed, when they got back to the Houses of Parliament.

"No he hasn't! He's doing another turn. This is musical cars!"

"He's pulled in by the Abbey."

"Take another turn around the Park."

When they were back to the Abbey, Ben said, "He's still there."

Anna became thoughtful. "Do you know, I don't think these games have anything to do with us. He could have shaken us off, flashed his lights, or simply made a rude sign, if it was us that he was interested in. Keep on doing the James's Park circuit. Stop on the other side for a while if you can. We'll see if this chap is waiting for someone. I just hope we don't get stopped by the police for kerb crawling."

Ben drove round to the other side of the park, waited about five minutes, and drove back past the Abbey again. The red car was still there. He repeated the procedure. This time, as they came within sight of the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, Anna exclaimed,

"He's driven off. Look!" she pointed at the car moving away in the traffic. "Can you follow?"

Ben nodded and followed the car down St. Margaret's Street, parallel to the Thames. They passed the Tate Gallery and drove on to Chelsea Embankment.

"Do you know," Anna said, "if I didn't know better, I would say that he is preoccupied with following someone rather than being worried about someone following him."

"The Mercedes?" questioned Ben.

"That's the one."

Once they were in Chelsea they slowed down, watching the two cars from a distance. The Mercedes pulled in outside a smart brick built house with a white door. The driver got out and went to the door and was quickly let in. He did not glance round.

"Do you know the man?" asked Ben.

"I couldn't tell. He had his back to us. Maybe when he comes out again."

"That could be hours."

"I wonder if our friend will wait. How very extraordinary. We were following him following someone else. Perhaps he's a part-time private investigator! But, you know, whoever he was following came from the Regent's Park area. I have a funny feeling it was his father. I just want a good look to see if the chap who went into that house has a moustache. But why on earth should Warren be following his father?"

They had to wait over an hour to see the moustache. The red car waited as well.

"Yes! That's Lady Parry's husband. I saw him at the Furnival's."

The Mercedes drove off. After nearly five minutes Warren Parry drove past them, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they had been giving him the treatment that he had given his father.

"Let him go now," said Anna. "He has obviously seen what he wanted or he would have followed his father rather than waiting until he had gone before driving off. Well! I don't know what to make of that. Why should he want to keep an eye on his father? I wonder who lives in that house? What was his father doing at the Houses of Parliament? It seems to me this business raises more problems than it solves. Time we went and had some lunch."

Six

Anna was lying flat on the floor with her hands behind her head listening to Mozart's Requiem yet again, as it fitted her melancholy mood. It was the Wednesday of the week following her vigil in the City and she was contemplating the fact that it was a nonsense for her to pretend that she was doing anything like real work. She had lost all interest in the doleful-eyed Warren and was quite sure that he was incapable of robbing Timothy Furnival's piggybank let alone contemplating the more spectacular role of jewel thief. And without a connection between the strange behaviour of Lady Parry's son and Lady Furnival's burglary, she had no way of solving either case. Of course she ought to make some sort of effort to meet the fellow again, but she simply could not summon up the enthusiasm to contact Toby.

She rolled over onto her stomach and twitched the volume knob on the amplifier in the hope that the louder the music the more likely it was to drown out thought. But her thoughts, despite the music, moved quite naturally from the futility of her present life to contemplating the peace and pleasure of her past life. She thought of the private world she and Andrew had inhabited, the world within the library, the world within the rose garden; their own hortus conclusus. It had been a world firmly dislocated from the twentieth century. Theirs had not been a great love affair, but a great friendship. This led her to a more curious thought. Having now met Susan Furnival on a couple of occasions, she wondered how on earth such a misalliance as that of the gregarious socialite and the awkward academic had ever come about. She had never before been curious about Andrew's past; it had been enough that they were happy together. But she had met so many people who had known a young Andrew, a person she had never met, nor ever before heard about. He certainly had not spoken of his youth. Could he have changed much?

Anna's contemplations were interrupted by the rasping sound of her phone ringing. This was an occurrence so rare as to make her jump. She sat up, wriggled across the floor on her bottom, and picked up the receiver.

"Wellington Bureau, can I help you?" she said.

The person at the other end spoke, but she could not make out what was being said, "Wait, just one minute..." She went and turned the music off. "I'm sorry about that. Can I help you?"

"There's this body in my bath!" hissed a muffled voice.

"Toby, you ass! What do you want?" replied Anna.

"I admit to being an ass," replied the voice. "But I most emphatically deny being Toby."

Anna was momentarily confused. "Who is speaking, please?" she asked in her crispest business voice.

"Percy," said the voice. "Percy Blyth. You may recall that you did me the honour of dancing with me at the Furnival's party."

"I do recall. But I don't recall giving you my phone number."

"Ah, but I have your business card."

"So you do. Well, what can I do for you?"

"You can do me the honour of coming to supper with me."

"Oh!" said Anna. "That's very kind of you," she instinctively started to frame a polite refusal, but was hampered by the fact that he had not specified an evening.

"I would be delighted if you would come. I knew you would turn me down if I asked you to dine with me alone, so I've arranged to have a little dinner party. Toby has agreed to come. So have Julia and Caroline. You've not met Jane have you? Jane Duff. No? Well, you are certain to like her. Warren and Philip will complete my specially selected octet. Tell me that I may expect you."

"You haven't yet told me when or where this little soiree is to be."

"At my flat in Warwick Gardens. Would Friday or Saturday suit you best?"

So gallant was his address that Anna decided that it would be churlish of her to decline. At the same time, it gave her an opportunity of reviving her investigations; at least as far as the unpromising Warren case was concerned. It was this latter fact, she assured herself, that clinched it.

"Either would suit me well enough."

"Splendid! Saturday would be the best day. I'll send you a proper invitation with my address on it."

"How very correct of you."

"We aim to please!"

After Anna had put the phone down she wondered if she had done the right thing. Perhaps by accepting his invitation to dinner she might be considered to be encouraging his attentions. But it occurred to her that this attitude was needlessly old fashioned of her. Flirtation was an art and Percy, no doubt, the master of it. A young widow, his friend's stepmother, formed an interesting new challenge. According to Toby, he was a man who wooed and abandoned women without compunction. Why should she be so scrupulous? She could simply enjoy his charms with impunity. She no longer had a heart to lose. These considerations were disturbed by the phone ringing again. "Twice in one day!" she muttered to herself.

"Lady Quartermain? It's Harris Butterworth speaking."

"Hallo."

"I wanted to know if you would care to come to dinner. A ladies' night." The Brigadier's invitation was as terse as Percy's had been extravagant.

"Oh! How kind of you to think of me. When is this ladies' night?"

"Saturday."

"That's rather a shame. I've just promised Percy that I would go to dinner with him on Saturday. Percy Blyth – you met him at the Furnival's."

"Yes, I do recall meeting him."

"I am sorry."

"That's perfectly all right, it was short notice. I hope you are keeping well."

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Have you any plans to go to Herefordshire?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"I will be calling in at Quartermain House sometime to collect a few things."

"That's fine. Douglas will be there. What is it you want to collect?"

"Just some documents that Andrew had in his care."

"Why not get Douglas to sort them out for you? It will save you a journey."

"No. I planned to go there myself."

"I'll let Douglas know. When are you going?"

"Probably next weekend."

"Fine. You should really be telling Toby; it's his house now. Anyway, Douglas knows you well enough."

"Will he have the keys to Andrew's desk?"

"Almost certainly. What were these documents? Something to do with military history, knowing Andrew. He probably lost them or muddled them up with something else."

"I rather think not. Well, thank you very much, Lady Quartermain."

"Thank you for the invitation. I'm sorry I was tied up."

There the brief conversation ended and Anna was left wondering why talking to the Brigadier was always so awkward. She noticed it particularly over the phone. Was it because he was so relentlessly formal? She must ask him to call her Anna, although that might mean her having to call him Harris, and she didn't think she could manage that. She would feel impertinent. He was too rigid and correct a person to possess anything as casual as a Christian name. Still, he was considerate. He obviously thought that she needed to be encouraged to go out. But what would this ladies' night have been like? Some interminable regimental affair, making polite conversation with crusty old colonels and retired generals, no doubt. But might it have offered her an opportunity to get to know the Brigadier, to find out what went on under that bland exterior he presented to the world? Certainly that would have made the evening worthwhile. It was incredible how little she knew about him. What did he do with himself? He was too young and too vigorous to have retired. Come to think of it, he had given her two phone numbers in case she ever needed to contact him in London. One was a daytime number. Maybe she would try it sometime and see who answered. She might find out where he worked. In fact she didn't even know where he lived. Didn't he have a place in Surrey or Kent? The man was a mystery in his own right.

When Anna arrived at Percy's Warwick Gardens flat she found that only Toby had preceded her.

"I never thought that the Quartermains were a punctual family," was Anna's comment as Percy greeted her with a kiss. "I thought that Toby could be trusted to bring some good wine, so I brought some good cheese."

"I'm overwhelmed!" said Percy. "And you were right about Toby. I try to invite at least one wine merchant to every dinner party I give. It saves on expenses."

"So what treats has Toby provided for us?"

Toby was indulging in his favourite pastime of picking up interesting items from shelves and examining them.

"Oh, four of Chablis and two of a rather nice Muscat we've just got hold of. Generous of me, eh?" He was looking through a book.

"If you want to know a man, study his book shelf," commented Anna. "Trust Toby to pick up a picture book!"

"You won't learn much about me from that little lot," called Percy from the kitchen.

Anna cast her eye over the small collection. There were all the commonplace reference books looking rather new, and a couple of general books on art. The only novels were a couple by Evelyn Waugh and a very dog-eared James Bond novel.

"James Bond looks well used. That tells me something about you."

"No it doesn't. Those books came with the flat."

"Oh. What happened to your history books?"

"I sold them to a fresher."

Toby gave a sudden whoop of laughter. "I've learnt something about you! Who's Evelyn then?" he flourished a letter which he had found between the pages of the book he was holding. "Your ADORING Evelyn! Who is this woman?"
Percy came into the room wiping his hands on a cloth. "You are an ass!" was all he said. But he took the letter and put it in a drawer.

"Don't worry, Percy, old fellow. I won't tell Caroline!"

"It's none of her business," said Percy shortly.

"Anyway, I didn't read it. I don't like reading other people's love letters. They make me giggle, and only girls are allowed to giggle."

Percy retreated into the kitchen and Toby winked at Anna. She thought Percy might have been more blasé about having one of his romances thus exposed. Perhaps he really did want to make a good impression on her. She decided to be kind and change the subject.

"Why the books on stained glass?" The book containing the letter had been about English stained glass.

"All to do with my job."

"Percy spends his days in museums conserving things...and writing love letters!" Toby added in a whisper.

"It's a glorified hobby," Percy said. "Like Toby's wine-merchanting. Except that I only get given pocket money."

"I always thought conservation work sounded interesting, but I don't have the right temperament for painstaking work. I'd get cross and smash the whatever-it-was that I was trying to conserve," said Anna.

The door bell rang.

"I'll go," said Toby.

Percy came out of the kitchen again, smoothing his hair. He pulled a wry face and said in a low voice, "Don't judge me too harshly!"

Anna smiled.

"Percy, darling!" Julia came in first and gave her host a hug. Caroline followed looking altogether more sheepish. "We didn't bother about wine because we knew Toby would see to that," Julia continued.

"I can see that if I change my job and become a car spares salesman I'll never get asked out to dinner again," said Toby ruefully.

"Poor darling!" Julia gave him a hug and a kiss.

Percy did something to improve his image as a cad by smiling pleasantly at Caroline and saying that he was glad she had come.

"I'd still ask you," said Philip to Toby. "My motor's flunked out on me. Here, I've brought a bottle." He handed it to Percy. "The inevitable mineral water."

Anna was introduced to a tall, bony girl with auburn hair and a prominent nose.

"This is Jane Duff. Everyone calls her Duffy," explained Percy.

Duffy gave Anna a firm handshake whilst Caroline smiled at her shyly over the taller girl's shoulder. The smile was a friendly one and it made Anna determined not to give her any reason for looking as woebegone as she had on the last occasion that they met.

"Pleased to see you again," Warren too seemed shy, but Anna was left with the impression that he was blithely unaware that she had spent the better part of a week following him.

"What about some drinks, Percy?" prompted Toby.

"I'll summon the butler!" quipped Percy. He disappeared and emerged again wearing an apron and carrying a silver salver. "What can I fetch for her ladyship?"

"The wine list, if you please," said Caroline.

"Oh, that's me!" said Toby, rushing over to her.

"What have you got to offer?"

"Something young and fruity?" suggested Toby, deliberately salacious in his tone. "Or something mellow and satisfying?"

Caroline giggled.

"Full bodied with an attractive nose?"

"Ripe fruit with a tantalising delicacy," Julia affected a voice of passionate longing.

"Then I would suggest that your ladyship should sample a good Burgundy. Or perhaps Philip would suit your requirements!"

"Who doesn't want a G and T?" asked Percy.

"I'll have the T without the G," said Philip. Nobody else admitted to not wanting one, so the drinks were duly poured and distributed.

"I like to simplify things," was Percy's comment.

"Caught your thief yet?" Philip asked Toby.

"No. The plods were clueless. But we have a private detective on the case."

"Surely not!"

"Oh, yes. No expense spared."

"He only means me," admitted Anna, watching to see how Warren reacted to the subject. He was picking a piece of fluff off his jumper and she could not see his expression.

Philip looked at Anna, raising one eyebrow. "Indeed! And have you tracked down the malefactor? What clues did he leave behind?"

"It could be a she!" chipped in Julia.

"There weren't any very useful clues," replied Anna, not particularly wanting to pursue the subject.

"In that case it couldn't have been a woman. A woman would have left the place riddled with clues," said Percy, for Julia's benefit. She rose to the bait and flung a cushion at him.

"When do you hope to make your arrest?" enquired Philip. Anna had the feeling that she was being sneered at.

"I'll wait for him to strike again. Then I'll pounce!" If he wasn't going to take her seriously, neither would she.

"Fascinating," said Philip. "Won't you feel guilty when they hang him? Or her," he glanced at Julia with a sly smile.

"They don't hang people anymore," said Caroline, earnestly.

"They might, in this case!" said Toby.

"Oh, they wouldn't!" said Caroline. "Not for something so trivial."

"Once upon a time they hanged people for stealing five shillings. Or for impersonating a Chelsea pensioner, come to that," Percy informed her.

"That's just awful! How could they justify hanging someone for five shillings?"

"Because stealing undermines the structure of society. Especially a capitalist society," said Percy, the historian.

"But what if the thief hadn't even hurt anybody?"

"The punishment had nothing to do with how morally reprehensible the crime was. It was simply to protect society. The rich made the laws and the rich were those with the most to lose."

"It was a pretty disgusting system," said Philip, with feeling. "Caroline's right, what matters is whether or not you actually hurt anybody."

"I'd find it pretty hurtful to be burgled," said Julia.

"Oh, I don't deny that," said Philip. "But what about if the thief was in real need. His family was starving. So long as he didn't make a needless mess, I'd sympathise with him."

"You mean the reasons may justify the actions?" Duffy clarified his comment.

"Yes, I think so. If you steal out of need from someone who can afford it, I think you are justified. If you smash up someone's belongings out of jealousy, that's different."

"Society would break down if the law didn't punish thieves just because they were poor and their victims were rich," Percy said.

"Well, if I was in desperate need I'd rob a bank. You can't hurt an institution."

"Just don't do it whilst Anna's around!" said Toby.

"And hope that Percy isn't the judge. He'd hang you for it!" said Julia. "You are a heartless brute, Percy."

"He's not. He's quite right." Warren spoke for the first time. "And Philip's right too. They are just talking from different points of view. From a moral point of view, what matters is not what you do but what your reasons are for doing it. It may be worse to lend someone money in the hope of getting a hold over them than it is to steal from them. But from a social point of view, what matters must be your actions."

"Toby's looking bewildered. I think we'd better feed him." Percy returned to his kitchen.

For Anna, the evening was worthwhile just for that informative discussion. It was certainly the high point; over dinner everyone reverted to the time-honoured custom, so reviled by Andrew, of each talking about their own concerns and barely listening to what the others had to say. Toby and Julia were the worst culprits, and they dominated the conversation. Jane Duff was also a person who seemed to like the sound of her own voice and, Anna thought, had a tendency to pontificate. Warren, on the other hand, was particularly quiet and barely spoke during the whole meal. But Anna noticed that the few comments he did make were astute. He was a man of few, but carefully chosen, words, and she could not help admiring him.

Anna was seated between Toby and Percy and she quite deliberately concentrated on Toby's merry and entertaining monologue and left Percy free for Caroline. However, by the time they had reached the port stage she felt obliged to talk to him.

"You really are a quite excellent cook."

"I enjoy cooking."

"I can't say that. I do. Bill has turned out to be a keen cook, which is as surprising as it is useful."

"He is one of the twins you took on?"

"Yes. They are very nice lads."

"They were bank robbers for a good, morally acceptable reason?" He referred to their earlier conversation with a wry smile.

"Well, I don't know about that. I think they were bored and thought it was fun. Probably the worst reason possible. But I firmly believe that they won't stray from the path again."

"Do you like living in London?"

Anna thought how nice it was to have someone taking such an interest in her little affairs and decided that he really must have taken a fancy to her.

"I don't mind. There's a lot that I miss. Especially the garden. I was never much of a gardener myself. I didn't know all the Latin names. I just liked watching everything grow."

"I like flowers. I used to paint them. I don't always admit as much. In fact, I hide the pictures!"

"What a surprising young man you are, Percy."

"Am I? Good! I'd hate to be thought commonplace."

"You must miss not having a garden?"

"No. But only because I've never had one of my own. I once did a sketch of the sort of garden I'd like; very formal, lots of clipped hedges and yew trees, and an elegant statue at the end of an avenue of trees."

"Now I should hate that. I don't even like the formal informality of Capability Brown. I like the English cottage garden; lupins, delphiniums, antirrhinums, all muddled in with beans and cabbages. You'd probably have the beans lined up like soldiers on parade with canes to tell them in which direction they were allowed to grow."

"I can't believe that Quartermain House doesn't have formal gardens."

"Well, formal-ish. Fortunately Jack, the gardener, never had a good eye for a straight line and Sam, his son, is a bit odd and usually plants things in strange places, so that you are surprised by bluebells in the vegetable garden or a sudden breakout of lily-of-the-valley in the middle of the rose garden. Rather nice, really. But surely you've been to Q House at some stage?"

"Only very briefly, with Toby. I wasn't asked to stay to tea."

"That's not very surprising. I don't remember seeing you there. I might have been hospitable. I was sometimes."

"He hid me in the walled garden. The rose garden. Now there's a formal garden for you."

"The sanctum sanctorum."

"Hallo? Talking about gardens?" Toby had caught something of their conversation. "A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!" he quoted.

"Quite," said Anna.

"We were talking about your country retreat. I was telling Anna about the day you hid me in the rose garden."

"Oh, yes. Father was no lover of guests. You never saw the inside of Q House?"

"No."

"Maybe we should all go there sometime. After all, what's the point in having the blasted place if I don't make some use of it?" Toby glanced at Anna, conscious of the fact that she might be sensitive about the idea of people going to Quartermain House. She was. The idea of crowds of Toby's friends intruding on the place that had been her home, her retreat, the home that had been so much a part of Andrew, distressed her. But at the same time, she recognised the fact that the house now belonged to Toby, and that he had a right to do what he liked there.

"It certainly seems a shame to leave it empty," she said, with difficulty. "Oh! that reminds me. The Brigadier's going there next weekend. He only wants to pick up some papers."

"Jolly good. Why don't we all go? Not that that Harris would be particularly pleased to see any of us. Except Anna. Would you mind, Anna?"

"Why should I? It is your house."

"I know. But I still think of it as yours. Silly really. But would you come?"

Anna struggled with her feelings for a moment.

"Douglas would be a lot happier about us going if you were there."

Anna laughed. "He probably would. But I refuse to be responsible for your behaviour." She thought how nice it would be to see the dour and gloomy Douglas again. And the gardens would be in their full spring bloom. "Oh, well. Why not."

"First-class! Who else is for a quiet weekend in the country?"

Nobody dissented and only Anna had any reservations about the prospect.

It was only towards the end of the evening that Anna fulfilled her self-appointed task of engaging Warren in conversation. Although, ostensibly, her decision to go to the dinner party had been based on the fact that she would be given the opportunity of learning more about her young charge, she had not taken full advantage of the occasion. Of course, since she was seated next to Percy, and Warren was at the far end of the table, it was hardly surprising that she spoke more to the former. But by the time they had abandoned the table and tumbled onto the settees or sprawled on the floor, she had to admit that if she did not make a positive effort to insinuate herself into the dialogue that was going on between Warren and Duffy she would miss her chance altogether.

Actually, as she listened to what was being said, with the intention of intervening at the first opportunity, she observed that it was more of a monologue than a dialogue.

"...we could hardly have been expected to...quite frankly people wouldn't accept that...and, after all, it isn't even grammatically correct...didn't think they approved of anything too suggestive..."

Anna wished she could grasp the subject of the little speech which she could only partially hear, Percy having inconsiderately put on some background music. She abandoned her place on the settee and edged closer to the couple.

"...and it's getting much worse, so much worse that I'm almost ashamed to admit to my part in it..." Duffy paused to take a sip of her drink and Anna snatched the opportunity.

"Were you talking about your job, Warren? I didn't quite catch what it was that you do?" Anna gave him an innocent, questioning look. It was a clumsy introduction of the subject in which she was interested, but he did not seem to notice anything odd about the interruption.

"No. There is nothing of interest to be said about my job. Jane was saying..."

Anna, not particularly wanting a résumé of what Jane had been saying, risked a further interruption.

"Stock broking! I believe Toby once told me you had something to do with stock broking."

"Commodity broking," Warren corrected her.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes. But not a very interesting one."

"Do you not enjoy your job?"

"It passes the time."

"You don't sound terribly enthusiastic." Jane had turned her attentions to Philip, and Anna was left to pump what information she could out of Warren. He was not an easy person to pump.

"I'm never very enthusiastic."

"What did you study at university?"

"Russian and German."

"Did you study them with any end in mind?"

"No. I can't say I did."

"Oh. So you left university without any idea of the sort of job you wanted and just drifted into the City?"

"I had planned to work in marketing. I thought of working for my father's company but I rather went off the idea."

"Oh? Why was that?"

"One sees quite a lot of one's father as it is. I preferred to do something else."

If he saw more of his father than he could stand, why follow him about the place?

"How about your work?" Warren's question seemed to be merely polite. Anna, however, did not get a chance to answer. Percy bent over her and placed one hand on her shoulder,

"I promised to show you those pictures."

"Pictures?"

"Yes. The ones I hide."

"Oh. Where are they?"

"In my bedroom."

"I suppose they would be! Is this a new departure on the old theme of...do come and see my etchings, or, have some Madeira m'dear? Perhaps I ought to ask Toby along as a chaperon."

"Is Percy going to show you his collection of dirty postcards?" asked Toby.

"I rather think so."

"Trust Uncle Percy." He helped her to her feet.

Anna glanced instinctively towards Caroline, but she had just turned to speak to Philip. Oh well, the man had asked her into his bedroom, not into his bed.

"You'll have to be quick. Ben will be here any minute. I asked him to pick me up at twelve if I didn't summon him earlier." She meekly followed Percy into his room where he began to rummage about in a drawer. Whilst he did so, she glanced at some photos on the wall.

"Lots of young Percys."

"A few young Tobys too." He pulled a small folder from the bottom of the drawer.

"No really little Percys?"

"What a horrible thought! No. The earliest pictures are the Cambridge ones. Here we are." He handed her the pictures. Anna looked at them. They were very precise drawings, some in pencil, some watercolours. She thought how difficult it was not to like a man who played cricket and drew flowers. The sound of the doorbell forestalled her comments.

"That must be Ben."

"The fair maiden was whisked away before the stroke of midnight!"

"You wouldn't want to see me turn into a pumpkin."

"Will I see you again?" He looked at her appealingly.

"Of course. At Q House."

"Not before?"

"Not before."

"Cruel woman!"

They went back to join the others, and Anna said goodnight and thanked Percy for his hospitality.

"Do any of you need a lift?" she enquired.

Philip glanced up, "I say, would you mind? I ought to be toddling along. Where do you live?"

"Holland Park."

"I'm Chelsea. That won't take you far out of your way."

"That's fine. Anyone else?" There was no one else and the two of them took their leave. "Can you give Ben directions?" asked Anna.

"Of course." During the brief journey they exchanged pleasantries. Then, as they neared their destination, Philip said, "Take that road...Turn down there...That's the one. Thank you so much. Goodnight." He stepped out of the car and Anna and Ben watched him as he let himself into a smart brick house with a white front door.

"Curiouser and curiouser!" said Anna.

"Is he a friend of the chap we followed here?"

"His cousin."

"Why should someone bother following their father to their cousin's house?"

"Why, indeed. There is either a very simple reason – or a very strange one."

Seven

"Unfortunately Mrs Baldwin has been poorly and I had to ask young Eleanor to come and help. She is a steady enough girl, but a little slapdash. You might find the rooms somewhat musty. Mrs Baldwin was waiting for the fine weather before she aired them."

Anna smiled. The same over-careful Douglas. And "young" Eleanor, Jack Baldwin's daughter, was nearing forty.

"I'm sure everything will be perfectly all right. I certainly don't see why you should put yourself out for Toby's friends. Has a room been prepared for Brigadier Butterworth? I'm not sure if he will be staying but he is the most deserving of your solicitude."

"Indeed. I have set the principle guest room aside for Brigadier Butterworth."

"Jolly good. Well, Douglas, I really think I'm glad to be back!" Anna looked out of the broad window of the drawing room at the wide sweep of lawn, stained gold by the clusters of daffodils which grew freely up the slope which led to the walled gardens. She observed Bill and Ben making their way to the house from the old coach house. "I'll introduce you to the twins," she said. "I'm sure you'll find that they make themselves quite useful."

Douglas pursed his lips but made no comment. He was duly introduced to the twins as Mr Ackroyd, and it was agreed that they would be sent to see what help he required after Anna had shown them something of the house. She had intended to travel to Q House that evening with Toby, but the twins had been so keen to see a "really posh house" that Anna had decided that she would take her own car and arrive in the afternoon, so as to have some time to herself before Toby and his friends arrived.

"He's a bit of a stuffed shirt!" exclaimed Ben after Douglas Ackroyd had taken his dignified leave.

"A what?" asked Anna, to whom the expression was quite new.

"A stuffed shirt. A bit stiff. Stuck up." The twins giggled at each other.

"Douglas Ackroyd has been a fixture in this house for forty years," Anna explained. "His father was batman to Andrew's grandfather in the First World War." This distinguished pedigree merely drew another giggle from the twins. It was the word "batman" that entertained them. "Well," said Anna, ignoring their mirth, "as far as I'm concerned this house is more his than it is mine. And you better jolly well do as he tells you! That was the condition we agreed on when you asked to come."

"Do we have to call you "your ladyship" like he does?"

"No. Well, only when he is listening. There is no point in upsetting him. If you really can't manage that without laughing you can call me madam, which will not offend his sense of propriety. And please, please, don't play any of your pranks on him. I don't mind what you do to Toby, so long as you at least call him "my lord" if Douglas is in the room. But I don't want Douglas any more put out than he already has been by the threat of a sudden influx of guests."

In fact Anna was in for a surprise. Not only did the twins help Douglas and treat him with the respect that the venerable old butler deserved, but they actually took a liking to him and he to them. The secret behind this friendship was the wealth of interesting stories that Douglas Ackroyd had collected during his lifetime, but had little opportunity to recount. He had not thought it proper for him to mention them in front of the viscount and viscountess, nor even young Master Toby, and he had always held himself aloof from Jack Baldwin and his wife. The twins, however, were the perfect audience. Indeed, so fond did the twins become of him that they never once forgot to address Toby as "my lord", even if they often smiled broadly as they did so.

Anna had time to visit Mary Baldwin in the gate lodge and to hunt down Jack and Sam, whom she found in the greenhouses. She even had a few moments of blissful but melancholy solitude in the rose garden. Then Toby and his friends arrived in convoy just after eight, and there were not so many as two minutes which Anna could call her own until they all retired to bed.

Despite drinking a rather fine brandy as a nightcap, Anna found it difficult to sleep. Wellington, who had given her a rapturous welcome, had been permitted to enter the chamber and dozed happily by the dying embers of the fire. The room was unchanged and as spruce and fresh as if it had been occupied throughout the long cold winter. But Anna was not at peace. She felt as if she had led an army of intruders into the hallowed places that Andrew had guarded so carefully and so long. And she shuddered at the thought of how she had permitted Percy to flirt with her so outrageously at dinner. Yet at the same time she found herself completely unable to bring back Andrew in her mind as a vivid, vital memory. She had thought that she would recall him; the way he looked, spoke and moved, as clearly as if he had just wandered out to fetch some book from the library to read her a passage, as he had so often in the past. But the more she tried to revive her memories, the more she tried to raise the ghost of Andrew and greet him like the demon lover who still held her heart enthralled, the more she was conscious of the fact that her mind was blank. All that remained of Andrew was a faint disapproval of her permitting so many guests into his beloved Quartermain House.

It was in the late afternoon, when the sun deigned to shine on Quartermain House and its beautiful gardens for the better part of an hour, that Anna took Percy to see the rose gardens. Of course he had seen them before, and of course it was too early for them to be in bloom, and of course it was the place dearest to her, dearest to Andrew. But it seemed churlish to refuse his request. He was, after all, Toby's guest. His presence there was not her responsibility.

The wall to the garden was high, a lovely mellow stone wall, in the summer months hung with heavy fragrant blooms. The garden, in blossom, was like a single multicoloured flower, each radiant bed a petal of velvety red, dappled pink, glossy yellow and gold; a sheltered haven, dizzy with warm perfume and lazy with the hum of bees. In spring it was cool and green, the early buds tight with promise.

"This will be earliest. It's a wild rose. All these up against this wall are wild. It comes out in yellow flowers: canaries. It should be out by the end of the month. But these; these are one of my favourites. I'm very traditional. I like red roses. These are a really deep red: Lilli Marlene. Andrew liked yellow roses. This has a lovely perfume. It's called Korresia." Anna introduced the flowers by name as if she were introducing friends. "And this Pink Perpetue. A lovely pink, not a pale washed-out pink, but a serious pink. That bed was newly planted last spring – a sudden impulse on Andrew's part."

Percy allowed himself to be given a guided tour of the gardens.

"Of course you should come in July. It is at its most lovely in July."

"I should like to. Very much." Something in the tone of Percy's voice made Anna uncomfortable.

"Oh, well, you've done the tour. Perhaps we ought to find the others."

"Perhaps. But I have no wish to."

"Oh," said Anna, a trifle awkwardly. "We can always take a look at the fuchsia garden. Not that there is much to see at the moment."

"No. Don't run away. Let's sit here a bit."

Anna sat unwillingly beside him. She just knew that he was going to kiss her or put a hand on her knee, or whatever young men like Percy did when they had cornered their prey. All that charming nonsense of the last evening must be some sort of ritual which led up to the passionate embrace or the lingering kiss, or whatever entree to romance was in vogue. She wondered if his heart was really in it, or if it was just a habit he could not break. She wondered if her heart was in it. In fact, she wondered so much about the embrace that had not actually occurred that, when she found Percy's shrewd eyes were studying her profile, she blushed hotly. Quite how Percy interpreted this blush she was not sure, but he gave a little smile which just turned his lips at one corner.

"Yes," he said. "I should love to come here, when the flowers are just beginning to open, and capture the darling buds; the petals tightly folded, the flower furled but awakening."

"You make it sound thoroughly indecent!" Anna could not help being amused by the way in which he spoke.

"Oh, but it would be. Flowers are an entirely sensual pleasure. The warm, musky perfume, the soft, unblemished petals."

"Then, when the bloom has passed and the petals fallen, you would trample them underfoot."

"That's Nature. A profligate wanton." They sat in mutual silence. Then Percy commented, "Some of these roses must be very old. The roots are gnarled and woody."

Anna decided that she had been wrong about her kiss. It seemed rather a shame. She had never been kissed by someone as astonishingly handsome as Percy. In fact, she was rather a novice as far as kisses were concerned. Andrew had not been a very kissy sort of man. He never kissed out of affection. His kisses had been reserved for the darkened bedroom; rather perfunctory kisses. She had always fancied that she might have missed out, that a kiss could be instilled with a passion which, like a good port – something she had experienced – would make her weak-limbed and dizzy with pleasure. Now, it appeared, she was destined to remain in ignorance for at least a while longer.

"Yes, very old," was what she said. "Jack has been pruning a lot of them back and cutting out the dead wood."

"Well, perhaps we will take a look at the other gardens," said Percy. He stood up and held out his hand to Anna. She took it, quite innocently, and was surprised to find herself pulled up against the tall young man, the blond head bent towards her, and the lips on hers in the kiss that she thought she had missed. It was a firm, confident kiss; the kiss of a young man in no doubt of a return and in no doubt of his ability to please. Anna, however, faltered a moment, found she liked the feeling, and returned the salute with enthusiasm, and then pulled away suddenly.

"I have offended you?" The voice expressed consternation but his eyes were cool.

"No," said Anna. "I have offended myself."

It was only then that she noticed the Brigadier who had just come into the garden through the east gate. She felt flustered and uncomfortable. Had he seen her? What would he think? He would think her quite callous. He would think her a thoughtless flirt; fickle and insensitive. She felt quite sick. He walked over to where they stood.

"Lady Quartermain." His face was set in its usual expression, stern but devoid of emotion. He would look so at death itself. There was no way of telling what he had seen or what he thought. "Douglas told me that I would find you here."

"Hallo." She pulled her face into order. She hoped it expressed a calm, friendly greeting. "You've been up to the house? Did you find what you wanted?"

"Douglas tells me that you have the key to Andrew's desk."

"Does he? I'm blowed if I know where it is. Do you want me to come and find it?"

"I would be most grateful if you could."

"All right. Oh, you've met Percy." She observed the fact that the two men had not acknowledged each other, and her good manners took over automatically. The two nodded at each other without comment. Anna and the Brigadier went over to the house whilst Percy tactfully receded into the garden. "Now where could that key be?" Anna spoke aloud, an automatic response to the taciturn Brigadier, and one she did not like. She instantly recalled that Andrew often placed it underneath the carriage clock in the study itself, and she led the Brigadier in silence to the study.

"Here we are," she said, producing the key.

"Thank you."

"Do you need any help? I have some idea of how Andrew organised the muddle in his desk."

"Thank you, but I would not wish to keep you from your guests." Anna thought this might be something of a rebuke, but his voice was even toned and polite. He was his usual unruffled self.

"Fine. Are you staying to dinner?" She knew there was little hope of this, in view of the number of Toby's friends cluttered about the place.

"That is most kind of you, but I really ought to be getting back to London."

"Would you at least have a cup of tea before you go?" Anna really could not bear the idea of the Brigadier being hounded out of Q House by Toby and his wretched friends. And, of course, she had told him that she had no plans for going to Herefordshire. Would he wonder what changed her mind? She hoped he didn't think that she had come for the sake of Percy. "Please?" she added, a little plaintively, determined that he should receive the hospitality that was his due.

"That would be very nice."

"Good," she said in relief. "I'll tell Douglas to take it into the conservatory. You won't be long will you?" She was assured that he would not. However, it was a good ten minutes before he joined her. Four of these she spent wishing that she had not allowed things to get out of hand with Percy, one she spent observing that it really had been a very exciting, if rather arrogant kiss – although that fact didn't excuse her. The rest of the time she spent hoping that the Brigadier hadn't observed this lapse.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." The Brigadier looked very slightly bothered.

"Did you find what you were after?"

"Well, no. But Andrew has addressed this to me. I expect it will explain what happened to the papers." He placed a slim white envelope on the table.

"You look a trifle concerned. Were the papers important?"

The Brigadier's face cleared and he assumed his usual bland expression. "No. I have what I want here," he said in a reassuring voice.

The matter was closed. The Brigadier drank his tea, politely refused renewed invitations, and departed. Anna was left with a deep sense of frustration which she could not explain.

Apart from the brief and regrettable incident with Percy in the rose garden, Anna successfully managed to avoid all Toby's guests until the Saturday evening, when dinner inevitably brought them together. On the Sunday she was even more careful of her privacy and incarcerated herself in the library, only emerging to bid them farewell as they unwillingly submitted to the necessity of being prepared for the Monday morning return to work. She had not, however, forgotten that she owed it to Lady Parry to make at least one more attempt to fathom out the troubles of the mournful Warren, and to Lady Furnival to see if the mysterious jewel thief was, incredible although it may seem, the same young man. Fortunately she gleaned enough information during the course of the Saturday evening to renew her belief that something odd was afoot and to give her an idea of how to set about solving the mystery; thus she felt justified in her Sunday's holiday.

Dinner itself passed without event or distinction. The conversation was commonplace admiration of the house and gardens, interest in the history of the Quartermain family, highlights from the Duff, Parry and Gurney family histories, further highlights from the life of the renowned Admiral Sir Archibald Duff, Jane Duff's thoughts on current affairs, Jane Duff's thoughts on religion, Lord Tobias Quartermain's opinion of the wine, port and of Jane Duff. After dinner, at Toby's suggestion, they indulged in a hilarious game of charades, a huge trunk of fancy dress costumes having been lugged down from the attic for the purpose. During this game Toby distinguished himself as a comedian, Percy and Philip as actors, and the latter as the possessor of the quickest and least easily confused wits. It was Philip who solved all the clues performed by the opposing team with apparent ease, much to their chagrin.

By midnight they were all, with the exception of Philip, rather drunk. Toby was draped across the settee, still half-clad in a costume originally intended for a Midsummer Night's party, an ass's head clasped in one hand. A cardboard crown covered in silver foil was tilted rakishly over Warren Parry's left eye, whilst his cousin was looking rather threatening in black mask and cloak with a blunderbuss stuck in his belt.

"It just isn't fair," Julia was saying, tapping a silver wand on Philip's shoulder. "You had an unfair advantage. There should be some rule to say that all competitors should be equally drunk."

"On average we were more drunk than you. We had Toby in our team."

"Yes, and that wasn't very fair either. How were we supposed to get to "bumblebee" by watching Toby tripping over bits of furniture in a donkey costume?"

"That was easy! He was Bottom. Bottom...bum...as in bumble! If that flummoxed you, you might have made something out of the fact that he was dressed as an ass!"

"We thought it was a donkey."

"It wasn't a good clue," Jane backed up her team mate.

"Wasn't it worth it just to see Toby bounding about the room in that costume? I'd say that you were a good actor, Toby, but I think you were typecast," commented Anna.

"I still think that Philip should have been force-fed with neat gin to bring him down to our level," grumbled Julia.

"Charades is all about lateral thinking. I would have thought that a little alcohol would have been an advantage. It usually increases mental dexterity," retorted the accused.

"It usually makes me want to go to sleep," yawned Toby.

"Maybe we should give Philip a drink and have another game," suggested Percy, another member of Julia's losing team.

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Toby, who did not look as if he had retained the wherewithal to find his way out of his costume, let alone play another game which required thought.

"I'm wearing a jester's costume; do you think it likely that I'm serious?"

"You are one person I would never take seriously," said Warren, unfortunately affected by the brandy he had been consuming. Despite his inebriated state, Anna was surprised by this comment coming from the mild, polite Warren. She observed that Caroline looked embarrassed. Perhaps Warren had set himself up as her champion. Unfortunately Percy chose not to let the statement pass unchallenged.

"And why this vicious attack on my character?" he enquired, coolly raising one eyebrow.

"You know quite well what I mean," mumbled Warren, clearly just sober enough to regret his comment.

"I'm afraid I don't," Percy seemed bent on pursuing the matter.

Warren glanced up at Percy and then said quite simply, "You are no gentleman!"

"What a very quaint, old-fashioned term," replied Percy. "So I'm not a gentleman. What leads you to that devastating conclusion?"

"Oh, please stop it!" said Caroline, obviously aware that she was the cause of the dispute.

"Because you do not keep your word," Warren answered Percy.

"Are you trying to tell me that I should marry a girl just because I take her out to dinner a few times?"

"It was more than that," said Warren.

"Good grief! Why are you such a puritan? I thought you had learnt all about infidelity at your father's knee!"

"For goodness sake, Percy!" exclaimed Philip. "You are both drunk. Just forget it."

"Philip, of course, would never get drunk. A perfect example of sobriety," said Percy, indicating the subject of his statement with an elegant gesture. "And he is also a man of his word. A gentleman. Unfortunately I cannot afford to be a gentleman. What is the cost? Half a million?"

Anna watched Philip turn pale at these taunts, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit Percy. But the silence remained unbroken until Toby stood up and said, in the voice of one who has failed to observe any disagreement amongst his guests,

"I say! Don't you think some coffee would be rather nice?" Coffee was duly produced and drunk in an atmosphere of controlled hostility. After that everybody drifted off to bed one by one until only Anna and Toby were left.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Warren and Percy? Oh, it is just that Warren is rather fond of Caroline and thinks Percy treated her rather badly, which, of course, he did. But Warren should have had more sense than to say so. But there's always been bad feeling between those two. Caroline used to be Warren's girlfriend," he explained.

"Was Percy ever serious about Caroline?"

"I don't know. Must have been. They were engaged; well, unofficially engaged, if you know what I mean." Toby gave a huge yawn. "I do like wine; if only it didn't make my friends so obnoxious."

"What about Philip?" Anna pursued the point. "What was all that about having to have half a million pounds to be a gentleman?"

"Oh, that! That was bloody tactless of old Percy. Still, he was drunk."

"Does that mean you won't tell me what it was about?"

"Well, it is meant to be a bit of a secret. You know, the errors of his youth and all that."

"I might guess at what Percy meant and come up with something worse than the actual crime." Anna was determined to find out about Philip and the mysterious half a million pounds, and she knew quite well that Toby was hopeless at keeping secrets.

"There was no crime. It's just that Philip made a bit of an ass of himself once. It was all damned silly really; but Philip came out of it rather well in the end. Philip always walks out of things smelling of roses."

"You are talking in riddles."

"Am I? Well, there is no reason why I shouldn't tell you; it's just one of those things one would rather keep from one's parents, if you know what I mean. In fact it was probably my fault, for being too damned generous with the wine. A bad habit, but an endearing one, I'm told. It was just after our finals and we had a bit of a celebration in my room. Everyone was ratted, of course; Philip was positively reeling. Anyway, there was this rather unpleasant fellow, Justin Cole, who must have gate-crashed because I'm damned if I ever asked him along to consume my alcohol and to obtrude his obnoxious presence amongst my friends. By the end of the evening he was twice as insulting as ever. His very existence was an insult, but he insisted on sharing his opinions with us as well. He objected to everything: titles, money, public school education – as if a chap has any choice about what he is born into. I think he saw himself as a bit of a working class hero, which was utter bosh. Anyway, if he found his principles were offended by our existence, he could have just cleared off and ignored us – which is more or less what Philip suggested at the time, although he was, as I recall, rather more explicit. Drink always made Philip obstreperous. Hence the obnoxious Justin accusing him of being drunk, which wasn't a very enlightened observation in the circumstance. But Philip took offence and said that he could drink a – well, never mind the elegant phrase he used to describe Justin. But, believe me, Philip was always unerringly accurate in his insults. Anyway, the gist of it was that he could drink someone of Justin's pedigree, and with Justin's constitution and mental powers, under the table. It really was all exceptionally daft. We thought it uproariously funny at the time; Philip, with his eloquent insults was so clearly getting the better of Justin."

"The inevitable result, of course," continued Toby, "was that a challenge was made, and we sat them either side of a table with a bottle of whisky apiece and told them to settle the dispute by a practical demonstration. Anyway, at some stage during this duel we started making bets on who would win. The trouble was that everyone wanted to back Philip. Justin took umbrage at this and stated that he was prepared to stake his first month's earnings on the fact that he would still be drinking when Philip was flat on his back on the floor. Naturally Philip did not resist this challenge, but said that he would stake every penny he possessed on the outcome. Asked just how much this would amount to by the one Justin-supporter present, he informed him that he had inherited over half a million from his grandfather, and that money was his own to do with as he chose. And he chose to stake it on the fact that he could consume more whisky than Justin."

"You can guess the outcome. Our friend Philip lost. Both of them were as sick as dogs the next day. But the endearing Justin did not forget the bet. Of course there was nothing to make Philip pay up. But he had given his word in front of a number of witnesses. So he paid up; every penny of half a million pounds. He said that he would rather part with the money than give Justin the right to claim that he wasn't a man of his word."

"Did he have the money?" asked Anna.

"Oh, yes. But it really was every penny that he had. Of course there is loads of money in his family and he'll inherit more in time, but he can hardly explain to his parents how he came to dispose of such a large sum in so short a time. Warren helped him out for a bit. Anyway, he does jolly well out of his job. He won't starve. It is mainly a case of keeping it from his parents."

"Surely no one expected him to honour the bet? I know that an Englishman's word is his bond and all that, but I can hardly see that this Justin character deserved to be handed the money on a silver plate. If he had any decency he wouldn't have accepted it."

"That was the whole point. He never claimed to be a gentleman. However, for someone who professed to despise those who inherited money, he pocketed his ill-gotten gains without so much as a qualm of conscience. Maybe he thought he had earned it. Nobody thought very much of him for it, however. He didn't even give the money to charity. Philip, however, was quite the hero. Nonetheless, it is not an episode he wants to advertise, which is why Percy was out-of-order."

"Who knows about it?"

"Percy, Warren, Jane – she was at the party. Neither Caroline nor Julia knows. Julia just might be thoughtless enough to tell her mother." Toby gave another yawn. "I say, I really better find my way to bed. My God! I'm still half donkey!" He struggled out of the costume. "Sweet dreams, Anna. And don't worry; Percy will repent of his thoughtlessness tomorrow. Drink just brings out the worst in people. I think Philip was wise to give it up. As for me, I shan't touch another drop. At least, not until tomorrow evening. G'night."

Anna sat for a while recalling what Philip had said about poverty justifying robbery and wondered if parting from his half a million had ever placed him in real need. It seemed unlikely; but perhaps she knew only half the story. And was Warren still giving his cousin financial support? But why had he followed his father to Philip's house? Was there some link? The questions came, but they were not followed by any answers. Anna stood up and slowly stripped off the black lace gloves that had formed part of her costume. She then made her way wearily to her bed and, giving up the unequal struggle of thought against sleep, surrendered to dreamless oblivion.

As everyone took their leave the following evening, Percy, whom Anna had avoided throughout the day, took the opportunity of speaking a few private words to her.

"I can see I've offended you. I'm sorry. Do I have your permission to phone you in the week?"

"Of course." It was the only reasonable reply she could make. She was not at all sure how she felt about Percy, but she had no reason to be unpleasant to him.

"Are you staying here for long?" enquired Toby.

"No, only until tomorrow."

"Will we see you on Friday?"

"Friday? I don't know. Why?"

"Philip suggested we all went to his place. His father's away so the children will play!"

It was only by chance that Anna was facing Warren as Toby said this. She observed him give a start, turn pale, and glance meaningfully at Philip. Philip returned the look as if expecting some such reaction from Warren. The absence of Philip's father clearly carried some significance for him.

"Is he away for long?" she heard Warren enquire of Philip as the others were concentrating on their farewells and hunting for their coats and scarves on the overburdened coat stand.

"Thursday night until Sunday night."

"Oh," was the response. "He's away all day Friday."

"And when the cat's away the mice will play," said Philip grimly.

Anna did not know what went on at the Gurney house on Fridays or why Warren should spy on his father going there, but she was determined to find out. It was the only positive lead she had.

"Yes," she said to Toby. "I'll come along on Friday."

Eight

"How beautiful are the feet of them," Anna sang in a husky but not displeasing contralto, "that preach the gospel of peace. How beautiful are..." she paused to refill her glass. She was not thoroughly, unpleasantly, drunk – merely contentedly and musically inebriated. She took a sip of wine and started afresh. "All we like sheep have gone astray!" This did not seem to please her, and she returned to the beautiful feet. The singing degenerated into a hum and the whole exercise terminated in an exclamation:

"Oh, botheration!"

It was Friday. Maybe she should have been watching the Gurney's house in Chelsea. But it did seem such a thundering waste of time. She had probably imagined the meaningful glance that passed between Warren and Philip. Matters had not been helped by the discreet phone call from Lady Parry that morning. She really seemed to think Anna might have unearthed the reason why her wretched son was borrowing money. Fortunately the Furnivals had never seriously expected to catch their jewel thief.

"Botheration!" she reiterated, scrambling to her feet. She tried to smooth the crumples out of her skirt, pulled up a pair of navy blue socks which had wrinkled around her ankles, and headed for the kitchen where Bill and Ben were engaged in a game of chess; a game she had taught them to play in the previous few days.

"What's the time?" she asked.

"About two. Anna, how do I castle?"

Anna surveyed the battlefield. "You can't castle to get out of check."

"I did tell him!" said Bill, triumphantly.

"Oh," said Ben, evidently disappointed. He chewed at an already captured pawn whilst he thought. "Can I catch his bishop with my horse?"

"Eh?" said Bill, who had evidently not reckoned on this eventuality.

"It's a knight, not a horse," corrected Anna. "There's no reason why you shouldn't."

Ben accordingly removed the threatening piece and replaced it with his own, grinning hugely at his brother. "Yah boo sucks!"

His twin scowled at him and then hunched over the board again in the hope of discovering a devastating rejoinder to this unexpected attack.

"Ben, how do you fancy a spot of sleuthing?"

Ben grunted. "Not the same chap as last time?"

"No. Well, not quite. The house we followed him to. I feel morally obliged to sit and look at it for at least an hour or so in case something happens."

"D'you want to take the Jag?"

"Not really. Either Warren or Philip might recognise it and then I'd feel a real fool. Couldn't we rent a car?"

"I'm not sure. I'm under twenty-one; they probably wouldn't let me have one. But why don't you go on Bill's motorbike." He grinned at his brother. The bike in question had been purchased cheaply from a friend a week before and had just about managed to carry the two of them as far as Anna's house without seizing up altogether.

"I'm not sure if I like that idea. I'd have to be really drunk to get on that thing with equanimity. Anyway, two people sitting on a bike outside a Chelsea house would look suspicious."

"Not if it had broken down and you were trying to mend it. By the time you get there you'll probably have to anyway!"

Anna glanced at Ben's watch again. "I suppose by the time we've found a car rental firm and tried to bully them into letting you have a car we will have missed all the exciting events at the Gurney's Chelsea residence. What about it Bill? It'll only take a couple of hours to saIve my conscience."

"OK."

So Anna, in a baggy jumper, ill-fitting jeans and helmet borrowed from Ben, loitered within sight of the Gurney's house for a couple of hours whilst Bill made a few genuinely useful adjustments to the decaying bike. Anna had taken a look at Bill's watch when they arrived. It was just past three. Fifty minutes later a car drew up outside the house. The man who got out was portly, dark-haired and dapper.

"That," grumbled Anna, "is the man whose absence was supposed to allow the mice to play."

After a little more than ten minutes the front door opened and the elegant little figure of Elizabeth Gurney emerged. She seemed to be in a hurry. She kept her eyes cast down, one hand to her face, and scurried along the road before ringing on the door of another house and gaining admittance.

"What was all that about?" enquired Bill from the pavement.

"I'm not sure," said Anna. "She looked upset. Husband returns home unexpectedly and finds wife in bed with lover?"

"No sign of the lover."

"He'll probably follow via the window!"

Bill continued to tweak at various components of the bike with a spanner whilst Anna gave every appearance of having an avid interest in whatever it was that he was doing. At twenty-four minutes past four a taxi drew up outside the house that Elizabeth Gurney had entered. She hurried out, glanced about her nervously, and was driven away. Only minutes late another car drew up outside the Gurney's house. It was a Mercedes.

"This fellow I do know," said Anna. "Even without seeing his moustache."

It was Warren Parry's father. Anna watched him ring the bell and wait a few moments on the step. The door opened. He seemed to hesitate, but then disappeared into the house. After a little more than fifteen minutes he emerged. The door closed behind him and he walked over to his car without so much as a glance at the couple by the motorbike. He opened the car door and sat down, but then he took something, which looked to Anna like a small sponge, and stepped out again to wipe the windscreen. After completing this task, he made himself comfortable in the driver's seat, strapped himself in, and drove off. Anna, pulling at Bill's arm, checked on the time again. It was four-fifty.

"We'll stick it out until Philip gets home. I'm supposed to be turning up here as a guest at six. All Toby's lot are coming here to drink Mr Gurney's sherry in his absence as soon as they've finished work. They will be surprised to see him."

Anna was the last to arrive at the house that evening. She looked quite unlike the scruffy girl who had ridden off on a motorbike with a scrawny red-haired youth only an hour and a half before. She wore a full-skirted dress, low-heeled black court shoes and a black mohair cardigan.

"Hallo, hallo!" Philip greeted her cheerfully. "Do you have any control over your stepson? He wants to drag us off to some wine bar. Percy is demanding somewhere more civilized and Julia is backing him up."

"What is so uncivilized about a wine bar?" enquired Anna, joining the group in the sitting room.

Percy groaned. "Oh, Anna! I was relying on you. Toby is notorious for his knack of picking out the night-club that is about to be raided, the restaurant which is about to wipe out its guests with salmonella, and the wine bar that is watering down its beverages." He smiled his brilliant smile at her. He looked particularly dashing in a striped blazer which might have looked well at Henley Regatta, his shirt open at the neck, and his hair as recklessly dishevelled as ever. He had phoned Anna two nights before, but she had turned down his offer to take her out, assuring him at the same time that she was looking forward to seeing him on the Friday.

"Are you casting aspersions on my talent for choosing original and off-beat places to take my friends?" said Toby.

"Nasturtiums, dear boy, nasturtiums!" corrected Percy.

"I'm happy to be adventurous," said Warren. "But not in this suit! I'm going to riffle through your wardrobe, Philip." Philip made a help-yourself gesture and Warren left the room.

"These boys are so vain," exclaimed Julia. "As soon as I got here Percy disappeared into the bathroom only to emerge eventually, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. Then Toby ran off to give himself a polish. All I did was wash my hands."

"Are Jane and Caroline coming?" asked Anna.

"Duffy's off with her family for the weekend," said Philip. "Caroline's playing truant too."

"Are you happy to come on my mystery tour?" Toby asked Anna.

"I think so. I thought we were going to take advantage of Philip's father's absence and drain his wine cellar to the dregs?" Knowing already that his father had returned home unexpectedly, Anna took the opportunity of teasing Philip for this apparent change of plan.

"Oh we are," said the unruffled Philip. "In fact my mother obligingly took it into her head to go and stay with Susan. So we will go out and feed, and then come back here to get drunk! At least, you can get drunk. I'll observe."

Evidently Harold Gurney was no longer there. Anna could hardly refer to the fact that she had seen him earlier, and simply hoped that the father would not embarrass the son by turning up in the middle of their revelries.

Warren re-entered the room. He had changed his shirt and borrowed a more casual jacket. "Well, are we ready?" he enquired.

They were. Toby had his way and organised them all into taxis and took them to the wine bar which, it transpired, was run by an acquaintance of his. Anna found herself enjoying the evening. Everyone was in high spirits. She drank most of a complimentary bottle of Champagne and allowed Percy to whisper jokes to her – mainly at the expense of the proprietor who was being so nice to them. Toby sang songs to Julia and asked her to marry him three times, in a very loud voice. Unfortunately neither she nor anyone else knew if he was serious, so she took the prudent course and refused.

In the end it was nearly eleven by the time they returned to Philip's home. Anna claimed to be exhausted and declined the offer to join them, but not before Percy had extracted from her a promise that she would come to his flat for dinner on the Monday evening, alone this time. He told her that he would be home from work by six and that she could turn up when she liked.

Anna felt rather delicate the next morning. She tried a cold bath, she tried black coffee, but she still felt delicate. She was just assessing the benefits of a brisk walk, possibly even a jog, when the phone rang.

"Hallo, Anna," said Toby's voice. "Listen, something awful has happened. Somebody has murdered Harold Gurney! Philip found his body this morning."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Anna. A second of blank horror was followed by the recollection that she had watched him arrive at his house unexpectedly, watched the comings and goings, been there herself! "How did it happen? When did it happen?" she asked.

"I just don't know. Elizabeth was staying with mother. The police called there. They are still questioning Philip."

"What happened last night; after you got back to Philip's place?"

"I don't know. Nothing. We thought his father was away. We just had a few more drinks and went home."

"Nobody stayed with Philip?"

"No."

"Oh."

There was a silence.

"I thought I ought to let you know," said Toby. "The police might want to question you."

"Me! Why me?"

"Well, you were there last night."

"I suppose I was. When do they think he was killed? Surely he wasn't there – dead, I mean – all the time we were having drinks?" Anna was thinking of the events of the afternoon, of the possibility that he had been murdered whilst she watched the house.

"God knows. What a horrible thought! You'd think we would have sensed it. But I've got a horrible feeling that they might suspect Philip. I mean, he was there all night. His father might have turned up at any time. He wasn't there when we were; at least, if he was, he was already dead. Poor Philip was the only one who was alone in the house, both before we arrived and after we left."

"That doesn't mean he killed him. Where was the body, anyway?"

"They found him in his study. He'd been strangled. That's all I know. So he could have been dead whilst we were there. No one went into the study."

Another silence.

"Thank you for letting me know, Toby. It really is awful. Poor Philip!"

"Poor Elizabeth, too. She's still with mother. The police have been questioning her. I'm going round."

"Yes, of course," said Anna vaguely. "Thanks, Toby. Goodbye."

She replaced the receiver. Had she seen anything important? Should she tell the police about what she had seen? Did they already know that Parry had been there? Could it have been Philip? These thoughts swam about in her aching head. She went and poured herself some more coffee. She had suspected that something odd was going to happen in that house on that day. And there had been a murder. But what had made her suspicious? What had that meaningful glance between Philip and Warren meant? They had thought that Gurney was going to be away. What was the relevance of his absence? She cursed herself for not being able to make any sense of it all. She was sure that she possessed all the information that couId explain the murder: Warren's odd behaviour, the burglary, following his father to the house. There seemed to be too many coincidences. She felt that she held the pieces of the puzzle but could not put them into place.

Later that day Anna did receive a visit from the police; or, at least, from one policeman.

"Just a few routine questions. Concerning the murder of Harold Gurney. You know he has been murdered?"

"Yes. My stepson informed me."

"I see. I understand you were in the house of the deceased last night."

"Yes. Would you sit down? Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank you." He sat down, so Anna assumed that the refusal concerned the coffee.

"Do you know what time he was killed?"

"I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind, Miss."

She was silenced.

"Between what times were you present at the house in question?"

"Oh, from about half-past six until about seven-fifteen. I'm not entirely sure. I don't wear a watch."

"You did not return to the house later that evening?"

"No. I came straight home from the wine bar."

"Did you go into the study at any point in the evening?"

"No."

"Did you observe anyone else going into the study?"

"No."

"Did you observe anyone behaving oddly?"

Anna was observing how young her questioner was. He was very unemotional. But, then, he was just doing his job. Should she volunteer the information about Parry's visit? No! He was asking the questions. He had made that clear enough. She would merely reply.

"No," she said.

"Did you hear or see anything that might indicate that Harold Gurney was in the house at the time?"

"No."

"Did you notice anything strange in the behaviour of Philip Gurney, the son of the deceased?"

Ah! So they did suspect Philip.

"No. He thought his father was away. He seemed relaxed and happy."

The young policeman asked a few more questions which Anna answered, largely in monosyllables. She was wondering about Parry's visit. Elizabeth Gurney must have been expecting him. And if she had been waiting for the visit, but was keeping the fact a secret, there could only be one explanation for her behaviour. It would certainly make some sense of the fact that Warren had followed his father there, that he looked so sick at the thought of Gurney's absence.

The next day Toby phoned her again. "They have just arrested Philip! I can't believe it. What possible reason would he have for killing his father?"

"I just don't know. Listen, Toby, is Elizabeth still at your mother's?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I want to see her."

"Well, she's in a hell of a state. Her husband's dead and her son has been accused of murdering him."

"I know. I'd still like to see her. Are you there or at home?"

"At mother's."

"OK. I'll pop round." Anna put down the receiver and pulled on a raincoat. Her mouth was set in a determined expression.

Susan Furnival met her at the door. "Hallo, Anna. Toby said you wanted to see Elizabeth. Is it really necessary?"

"I think so. Susan, have you seen Amanda?"

"Yes."

"Have any of the Parrys been interviewed by the police?"

"Only Warren."

"Ah," said Anna, thoughtfully. "Susan, just tell me one more thing. You know Elizabeth and you know the Parrys. Was there anything between Amanda's husband and Elizabeth?"

Susan led her into the empty study. "Why do you ask?"

"Was there?"

"Yes. It was a well kept secret. I thought only I knew. How did you guess?"

"Just a couple of things I happened to notice. What did Elizabeth say when she came here yesterday?"

"She was upset. She and Harold had argued. He hit her. I assumed that he had found out about the affair," she paused. "Surely you don't think Elizabeth killed him?"

"No, but I'd like to have a word with her."

"She's in the pink room. I'll take you up."

"Thanks." Anna made her way to the room. She hated to interfere, but interfere she must. Susan showed her to the door of the second floor room and then left her. Anna entered quietly. The little blonde woman lay on the bed, the curtains half drawn.

"Elizabeth. It's Anna Quartermain." She sat on the bed beside the prostrate figure. After a moment she took the woman's soft little hand and stroked it. The hand was not withdrawn. "You were expecting a visitor yesterday. Did you tell the police?" her voice was gentle but firm.

The eyes opened. "You know! How do you know? My God! What am I to do?"

"Do you think he did it?"

"I couldn't tell them. I couldn't!" Elizabeth spoke in a tense whisper.

"But they've arrested Philip."

"Yes! Yes! But he didn't do it. They can't hold him."

"They might."

Elizabeth sat up and took Anna's hand more firmly. "You know he was there?" There was something like relief in her voice. Her awful secret was shared.

"Yes. Did you tell Susan?"

Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. "No. I said that we had argued. That was all. She knew all about the affair. But I didn't tell her he was coming yesterday. I just said that Harold and I had argued. He hit me!" A single tear tumbled down her right cheek. Others followed. Anna hugged her as she had Emma when she woke up crying after a nightmare. After a while the tears subsided and the explanation came.

"He was supposed to come at two. I was waiting. Harold was in America – or so I thought. But he hadn't gone. He stayed in a hotel and then came back in the afternoon. He thought that he would catch us together. Heaven knows how he knew. But I was alone. He knew about the letters. He took them out of my dressing table. Then he hit me. So I ran out. I went to Angela's and tried to phone and tell him not to come. I don't know where he was. I thought he might have been held up for some reason. He should have been there at two. But I couldn't get him. I knew that he would come to me as soon as he could. He was late, sometimes."

The account was given in breathless staccato, but Anna was able to put what was said together with what she had seen and make sense of it all. Parry had turned up late, only to find Elizabeth gone and an angry husband waiting to challenge him.

"What will Amanda do!" was Elizabeth's next thought.

"You didn't mention any of this to the police?"

"I said that we argued. I said it was about his job; that he was away from home too much."

"You must tell them. You know that Philip is innocent, but all the evidence is against him. He was alone in the house in the evening and all night."

"Yes, yes. What will Amanda say?" Anna could not answer this question. Elizabeth clasped Anna's hand more firmly. "Will you tell them? I couldn't bear it! Please will you tell them?"

"Of course I will. Don't worry."

Elizabeth Gurney looked at her in relief, the weight of responsibility lifted from her shoulders. Then her face clouded again,

"My God! He was dead in the study and Philip was there all night. He was dead and nobody knew!" The full horror of what had happened was on her. She wept freely, Anna still holding her hand.

Anna informed the police of all that Elizabeth had said without mentioning any of her own evidence. Fortunately a neighbour was able to corroborate the fact that Parry had indeed arrived at the Gurney's house at about four-thirty, although he had not seen him leave. Parry was interviewed by the police. Here was a man with both opportunity and motive. By late afternoon Parry had been called to the police station for further questioning. By the evening Philip had been released. Anna, however, went to bed that night feeling distinctly unhappy. She had guessed about the affair and guessed correctly. But it did not seem to explain all the niggling little facts that she had gleaned over the past weeks. There was something else that bothered her. She kept picturing Parry emerging from the house and wiping his windscreen. Something was not quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"They arrested me because I was the obvious suspect," Philip was saying to Toby and Anna. "I had the opportunity; I was alone in the house from five, when I got home, until six when you and Percy arrived," he referred to Toby. "Presumably my father was there all the time. The only thing was, that he was already dead! Then I was alone all night. When I think of him sitting there in his chair while I slept..." he shuddered.

"Can they not tell when he died; the exact time?" asked Toby. "I mean, he must have been dead before you even came home."

"Well, by the time I found him he had been dead for a while. That much was clear. Rigor mortis had set in. It wasn't very nice finding him like that. His face! God, I wish I hadn't given up drinking." He strode up and down the Furnival's drawing room. He hadn't liked to go to stay in his own home, and since everybody else seemed to be at the Furnival's, he had spent the night there. He decided not to call on his aunt in the circumstances. "They might be able to pin the time down more exactly after a post-mortem. The awful thing is that I walked into the study whistling. I must have been in there five minutes before I saw him. He was sitting in the chair. You can't see if anyone is sitting in it from the door because it is turned to face the window. Then I went to look out of the window, and as I turned..." The horrible vision, the shock of what he saw, showed in his eyes. "He was holding those letters. You couldn't get them out of his hand. Bloody stupid love letters from that murdering bastard to my mother," he spat out the words.

"Steady on, old man," Toby put a soothing hand on his friend's arm.

"Mrs Quincey saw him. Nosey old buzzard! The first useful day's work she's ever done. Otherwise there wouldn't have been a witness. She accosted me when I went home last night to collect some clothes. She had seen two kids on a motorbike as well." He did not notice Anna giving a start at this revelation. "She said she thought it funny at the time. She even took the registration number. She was going to complain about them. Then she heard about the murder and decided that they had something to do with it, until the police started asking about Sir Evelyn."

"Did she tell the police about the motorbike?" Anna felt suddenly panicked.

"What? Oh, I don't know. I expect so. I expect she's just revelling in being an important witness. Nothing like a nice juicy murder to keep her entertained! Are you all right Anna? You've gone quite pale."

Anna, who was standing by the window, had indeed gone pale. She even swayed slightly and had to sit down heavily. For a moment she sat with her head bent, one hand on her forehead. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Philip had given her the key to the whole mystery.

"Anna?" Toby looked at his stepmother in concern.

She looked up. "How could I have missed it? How on earth could I have missed it for so long!"

"Missed what?"

"Parry's name! I keep calling him Amanda's husband, Warren's father, or "Him" with a capital H. But not once have I heard his Christian name used. Not once did I think to ask."

"Does it matter?" enquired Toby, quite baffled.

"Yes. You should have guessed! You knew his name. But then you didn't know about Warren."

"Anna, what are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Just answer one question. Did you have anything pinched at university: money, cuff-links, anything of value?"

"I suppose so. Yes. We all did. That sort of thing is quite common. Why? What does that have to do with Sir Evelyn murdering Philip's father?"

"Everything. Look, I must ask Warren something." She stood up suddenly, her face quite flushed.

"All right. He's only next door. I'll come with you. But I don't pretend to understand what is going on in your mind. Are you coming, Philip?"

"No, I think not."

Anna had already hurried out of the door, and the bewildered Toby followed.

They were shown into a cold, formal sitting room where they found Lady Parry looking more washed-out than ever and Warren more doleful. Toby gave Amanda Parry a comforting hug and Warren smiled at him wanly.

"Sorry to barge in, but Anna has something she wants to ask." The notoriously tactless Toby seemed almost apologetic for his stepmother's apparent tactlessness on this occasion. Anna, however, had the same grim set to her mouth that she had when she went to speak to Elizabeth Gurney. She was not one to be put off by the danger of being thought tactless.

"I'm so sorry, Warren, but I must ask you a question. Would you rather talk alone?"

He shook his head. "No. Just ask."

"All right. Has someone been blackmailing you?"

The question was a bombshell. Even Warren had not expected it.

"What? How the devil...?" His voice trailed off as he glanced at his mother.

"Your mother knew something was wrong all along. There seems no point in trying to hide it now... in the circumstances."

"No. I suppose not. How did you find out?"

"I'll tell you another time. Oh, heavens! What do we do now?" she sank into a chair.

"Anna, I'm baffled, bewildered and bemused! What is this all about?" asked Toby.

"What's it all about?" Anna echoed the question. After a pause she explained, "Sir Evelyn didn't murder Harold Gurney. I should have realised from the start it wasn't him. As for who did do it...well, the person who has been blackmailing Warren must be the person who stole out of Elizabeth's bag. The same person stole Susan's jewellery. Unless I'm very much mistaken, he also murdered Harold Gurney. There is only one problem. I can't prove it!"

Anna telephoned the twins at their home first thing on the Monday morning so as to catch them before they left.

"Hallo, Mrs Bird, Anna Quartermain speaking. Could I have a word with your son? Either will do, but Bill would be better."

There was a pause whilst the mother went to fetch the son.

"Hallo," said a voice.

"Are you Bill or Ben?"

"Ben. Bill's in the shower."

"I thought I ought to contact you about the bike. Someone spotted Bill and me and, as luck would have it, the man whose house we were watching was murdered!"

"Gordon Bennett! Are you suspects?"

"No. The police are holding a man. Not the right man, but it should keep them happy until we've sorted things out."

"Oh, well, I doubt if they'll trace the bike to Bill, anyway."

"Why not?"

"Well, he just bought it off his mate for cash. They might trace it to him but he won't say Bill has it. He'll probably tell them it's been nicked!"

"I doubt if that will help! But don't you have to register them? Surely he has a licence?"

"Well, no."

"Oh, dear!" said Anna. "So him taking me for a spin on that bike was quite illegal?"

"I s'pose so."

"You two are on probation; you should be more careful. Never mind. Anyway, there was something else I wanted to know about. Have you got any tools or whatever for breaking into a house?"

"Um, no," said Ben, unconvincingly.

"Are you telling me you've never broken into a house? Do you not even know a friend with a crowbar or something?"

"Well, there are other ways of breaking into a house than with a crowbar!"

"A crowbar will do admirably for my purposes."

"What on earth do you want us to do? Don't forget we are on probation. We have to be careful!" Anna could sense that he was grinning as he spoke.

"Don't worry, Ben, we'll be careful. Just bring whatever you need."

"Here we are!" said Bill, proudly displaying to Anna an interesting little collection of screwdrivers, skeleton keys and celluloid strips.

"Are these for slipping locks?"

Bill nodded.

"It's a good thing your probation officer doesn't know about this little lot!"

"Got them from a friend," Ben explained.

"And that reminds me, Bill – don't go riding that bike again until we've got the paperwork sorted. And insured it properly."

Bill gave her a sheepish grin by way of reply.

"What place do you want us to break into?" enquired Ben. "The place we watched?"

"No. That's where the murder took place. I'm after the murderer. I know who it is, but I need some proof. I'm going to have to be rather devious. I think my man is cool, clever, calculating and, it seems, quite deadly. I also think he is arrogant and proud of his crimes. If I'm right, that might be his downfall."

"What's the place like?"

"It's a flat, fourth floor. But I don't want anything too subtle. I want the lock broken so that the door cannot be closed again. That's why I said a crowbar. I want the lock forced quickly but left in a bit of a mess."

"Won't someone else in the flats notice if we leave the door hanging off its hinges? We don't want them to call the police or we'll get done!"

"I don't want you two to come in. Once you've opened the door you can leave it to me. I don't want you involved in this sort of thing while you're still on probation. Anyway, the English are notorious for ignoring anything suspicious. But if someone does call the police, it won't greatly matter, so long as I have time to get what I want first. The timing will be crucial."

It was a sunny day, the finest they had yet had that spring. Anna put on a blue and white striped skirt and matching jacket and sat out in the garden, drinking chilled Chardonnay and beating Bill and Ben in consecutive games of chess. At four o'clock she started to search for a white card on which Brigadier Butterworth had once written two phone numbers. The twins soon joined in the hunt and the card was eventually tracked down disguised as a bookmark, innocently sitting between pages 186 and 187 of The Age of Elegance.

Anna had always been interested to know where Harris Butterworth lived and worked, and now she would find out. She rang the first number, which said "daytime" beside it, remembering, as she did so, that he had told her that she was only to use the number in emergencies. At other times, she should leave a message using the second number. Well, surely this was an emergency; or it would be if she didn't reach him in time.

"Hallo!" snapped a gruff voice. It was not the Brigadier.

"Hallo, I'd like to speak to Harris Butterworth."

There was a pause. "Who is speaking?"

"Viscountess Quartermain!" she said, not liking the tone of the voice.

"Ah, yes," this seemed to mean something to the voice. "He is not here."

"Can you tell me where I can reach him?"

"I'm afraid not. I can take a message."

"It is rather urgent. How soon will you be able to give him the message?"

"Shall I tell him to contact you?"

"No. I want the message to get to him as soon as possible. I want him to meet me at six-fifteen precisely. I'll give you the address." She did so, wondering at the same time if she should emphasise the word "precisely". But the Brigadier was a soldier; he would know the meaning of the word.

"Yes, I have that," said the gruff voice.

"Good. Can you get the message to him in time?"

"I will do everything in my power to do so."

"What chance is there of you failing?"

"I'd say there is a ninety-five percent chance that I'll succeed!"

"Good. That will have to do. Thank you, er...?"

She waited for the voice to give his name but he merely said, "Delighted to be of help to you, Lady Quartermain."

"Well," said Anna to Bill, once she had put the receiver down, "I would love to know who that was. I really must get the Brigadier to tell me what he does. It would be worth the expenditure of a bottle or two or very good wine to get him to confess; but he is so horribly discreet."

A white Jaguar containing Lady Quartermain, the twins, and a crowbar was parked in Warwick Gardens at five-thirty on the Monday.

"This could all go dreadfully wrong!" Anna was saying. "He said he would be home by six. Since he is expecting a guest, he will probably be prompt. If he doesn't show until six-fifteen I'll have some explaining to do. Still, we'd better get on with it in case he is a bit too prompt. I have a horrid, unsteady feeling in my stomach. And I thought I wouldn't mind this sort of thing. Come along, Bill." The two of them got out of the car; Anna, smart in her blue and white stripes, a small blue canvas bag under one arm, and Bill in a new track-suit and very white track shoes, his tools in an equally new and unblemished sports bag. No one would have viewed them with suspicion.

An onlooker might, however, have viewed the couple with suspicion once they had reached the door to Percy Blyth's flat. The red-haired youngster opened his sports bag and took out a vicious looking tool. This he placed at a point adjacent to the lock of the door, inserting the tip between door and frame. He then put his right foot on the wall to give himself purchase. What followed was a rather alarming sound compounded of splintering wood and a groan of exertion. This was terminated by the rather satisfying sound of something, somewhere giving. All sound ceased and the red-haired lad smiled triumphantly at his attractive companion in her cool, pretty clothes. She had what she wanted: an open door that could not be readily re-locked.

"Good lad!" she glanced around, but no alarmed faces appeared behind doors opened to a crack. "What's the time?" He showed her his watch. "All right. Stay in the Jag until six-thirty. If there's no sign of the silver Jaguar I told you about, and I haven't come out, call the police! Oh, and give me that." She took the crowbar and wiped it on her skirt. "Now no one can deny that it was me that broke in. Get out of here!" She went into the flat, pulling the door to a closed position behind her. The lad beat a hasty retreat.

Anna knew that she had about twenty minutes, maybe less. She looked about the immaculately tidy flat that she had so forcibly entered. Where should she start? The letter had been in a book. He had taken it from Toby and put it in a drawer. She went through to the room where she and Toby had stood whilst Percy finished his cooking in the kitchen. It was strange, being an intruder. She found she was walking with as soft a tread as she could and breathing heavily...how silly! She knew she would be interrupted. It was just a case of making sure that she got what she wanted first. Even if she didn't, she might manage well enough, if she used her wits. The drawer in the sideboard was soon identified and the letter found. She was halfway home. Anna instinctively unfolded the letter and noted the signature: Evelyn. The letter began, "My sweetest Elizabeth". She found her eyes wandering over the lines that the lover had written..."hope I can see you...almost more than I can stand...you are so alike, yet so different. You are so vibrant with joy and life, and when I ..." A man writing to his wife's sister. His lover. What a shame that Toby had not read more of it when he found it so casually tucked into a book. What a cool devil Percy was!

Anna put the letter in the small blue bag and continued to search the drawer. She did not find anything else. A glance at the clock told her that she still had fifteen minutes, or less. She went through to the bedroom. There were the photographs she had seen. How strange that none of them showed anything of his life before university. She opened the wardrobe and immediately picked out the striped blazer. It certainly was a memorable blazer. The pockets, however, were empty. Anna stopped, suddenly alerted by a small sound. She stood like a statue but the sound was not repeated. Good heavens! She really was nervous.

The next place to be searched was a chest of drawers. All the jumpers neatly folded, his pyjamas nicely ironed, even his handkerchiefs ironed and folded. He would have made her such a nice wife! But she still hadn't found any of Susan Furnival's jewels. Perhaps they had all gone. Perhaps she had got her sums all wrong. No, she was sure she was right. Anna frowned and looked around the room. Then she got on her knees and looked under everything. After that she looked on top of everything. She even looked under the pillows. She tried the kitchen: the cutlery drawer, the larder, the little pot on the window sill. She tried the bathroom. How lovely and clean it was. What nice soft towels. Anna went back to the bedroom and sat on bed. There was a digital clock which told her it was 17:56. She automatically subtracted twelve and came to the conclusion she was not going to find what she wanted.

Anna walked over to the window, rather hoping that she would see Percy below. She hated waiting. She stood there a moment admiring the view, but turned with a jump as she heard the front door being pushed open.

"What the devil...?"

Just as she was about to go and greet Percy, she caught sight of an object placed on the single shelf that ran along above Percy's bed. It was a small silver trophy. The only other item on the shelf was a photograph of Percy in his cricket whites. Without pausing to read the inscription on the cup, she picked it up and turned it so that the contents would fall into the palm of her hand. She found herself holding an opal ring. This she put into her pocket. She then put her hand into her bag as if trying to find something. No sooner had she removed her hand than Percy Blyth, in grey flannels and an Arran sweater, entered the room.

"Anna! I was sneaking in expecting a burly great burglar to pounce on me!"

"Hallo, Percy."

"Was the door like that when you got here?"

"No."

"What!" He looked at her, searching her face to see if she was joking. What he observed inclined him to think she was serious. "Couldn't you wait until I got here? I would have let you in without saddling myself with the expense of a new lock!"

"I fancied having at little look around in my own time."

"Well, in the circumstances I can't say that I'm exactly delighted to see you."

"You'll be even less delighted when I tell you why I'm here."

"All right, tell me. But I shall make some tea whilst you do."

Percy left the room, collected a carrier bag which he had put down by the front door, and went into the kitchen. He put the kettle on and then unloaded the contents of the bag: two lobsters, some cream, a lettuce and a French loaf. Anna had followed him and was watching.

"Well?" said Percy.

"Oh, yes; why I'm here. I was looking for evidence of blackmail, robbery, murder..."

"Intriguing," said Percy in a non-committal voice. "Do go on. Did you find what you wanted?"

"On the first two counts, yes. The letter you stole out of Elizabeth Gurney's bag along with all those French francs which must have come in handy on your holiday. And Susan Furnival's ring."

Percy was kneeling by the fridge, putting the cream in and taking out a bottle of Chablis, which he proceeded to open. He then took two glasses out of a cupboard, holding one towards Anna in a gesture of invitation.

"Yes, please," she said.

He filled the glass and she took it.

"And who's to say that the ring and the letter did not enter the house with you?"

"Toby saw the letter."

"Ah, yes. But failed to identify the origins. Well, Warren or Philip might have dropped it whilst they were here. Who can say? What does the letter prove?"

"Well to me," said Anna, sitting herself on one of the high stools and putting her elbows on the breakfast bar which ran along one side of the room, "it proved to be the key to all the odd little things that were going on amongst your close-knit group of friends. Warren borrowing money, all those cases of petty theft that went by unnoticed until you took Susan's diamond necklace."

"And......?"

"And...as soon as I realised that the Evelyn of the letter Toby picked up was not some secret love of yours, but the lover of Elizabeth Gurney, I knew that you must be the thief. How else could you have come by the letter but by riffling through Elizabeth's bag? But why would you want the letter? That is where poor Warren Parry's borrowing comes into it. You were at university with Philip and Toby when Amanda tried to kill herself and Warren was so terribly upset. That was when her husband had an affair with his secretary. What would she do when she found out that he was having an affair with her own sister? And you, knowing that Warren was so fond of his mother, blackmailed him. I don't suppose it caused you so much as a qualm of conscience because, unless I'm very much mistaken, you had been helping yourself to the money of your wealthy friends ever since you were in college together. And they, naive, good-hearted souls that they are, never thought to suspect a friend."

"Admirably deduced, Anna. But can you prove it?"

"Well, I have the ring. But are you not going to deny my accusations? Are you not going to laugh at me for being over-fanciful?"

Percy regarded her with his arrogant, piercing blue eyes. "Deny it? No. I think you've done rather well. But are you going to judge me so very harshly? Do you not recall Philip's own argument about poverty justifying theft; so long as you left no one in need? Is Warren in need? Does Lady Furnival suffer from the loss of one necklace when she had so many others? I think not. Is not Toby so grotesquely overburdened with the wealth that he inherited that half the time he doesn't even miss the money I take from him?"

"I don't deny that Toby is very fortunate, but you do not seem to be so very poverty stricken. I cannot see that he, or any of the others, owe you a living."

"Can you not? I thought you, at least, might. Well, Anna, I'll tell you a little bit about myself. You are honoured! I am very sparing with my confidences. I have always loved things of beauty, fine things; beautiful buildings, wine, a garden in full bloom. You will understand that, you who can love a rose garden, you who loved the genteel life you led at Quartermain House. So our tastes are alike. But not everyone appreciates the things we do. And it is not always those who appreciate them that are given them. That is one of the tricks of Fate. I grew up, not in actual poverty, but surrounded by a poverty of the spirit; people who drudged at tedious jobs to make a moderate living. Do you blame me for wanting more? I know a little about you too. You were a student when Toby's father met you. He offered you a life that you could not have had as Anna Whoever; but as Viscountess Quartermain...I do not begrudge you that. Your appreciation of that life is justification enough. My work, Anna, is the preservation of old and lovely things. For that I am paid a pittance. Toby has inherited a beautiful house full of lovely treasures, and time – if he chose to take it – to enjoy it all, as you did. But it is wasted, completely wasted, on him. I think that the little I have taken from him or his socialite mother, or any of their sort, is no more than a fair share. It is well used. You married for the sort of life you wanted; are my methods so much more immoral? I could have married Lady Caroline for her money; her family's money. But to sacrifice my privacy, my independence, for her..."

Anna was silent. There was enough truth in what he said to make her pause for thought, to consider the harsh and horrible fact that she had married, if not for money, at least for what money could buy.

Percy laughed, "This flat," he gestured with his elegant hand, "this has been paid for by Warren! As he pays for his father's indiscretions, so I pay for this. And no one is any the worse off! The poor ass has been here, admired it, never once imagining..."

"Oh, no – Percy! You are actually proud of what you have done! And you assume my complicity. You assume that I married in the same arrogant, calculating spirit in which you have deceived, robbed and blackmailed your friends. Well, you are quite wrong. I may not have married for love, but neither did Andrew. There was no deceit."

"I think, my dear Anna, that you are not being quite honest with yourself. But we will let that pass. I thought we were like-spirits."

"Like-spirits! God help me if we are. I know what you did, Percy! Whilst Philip and his friends were having a drink, you went off to change your clothes. On the way to the bathroom, or on the way back, you just popped into the study to see if there was anything worth taking. You didn't see Harold Gurney. He was sitting in that chair, poor man, looking over those letters. No one knew he was there because he was mourning silently over his wife's infidelity. And you didn't see him. You were intent on looking though the desk. Perhaps you helped yourself to something. And all the time he was watching you. When you saw him – well, I do believe that you panicked! Or perhaps you made a quick, cool calculation and decided that it was better to kill him than to take the risk of having him call the police. If they searched here, they would have found the ring and perhaps other things as well. Anyway, only you know what Gurney said, and only you know what went through your mind. But the fact is that you throttled the poor man. I don't believe he even put up much resistance. No one heard a sound. You then put the things back – or perhaps you took them, because in your callous arrogance you believed that no one would ever suspect you. When you had killed him, you rejoined your friends, you chatted to Philip and flirted with me, quite unruffled, quite unmoved, by the dreadful thing you had done."

Percy stood up, went to the fridge and took out the wine. He poured himself another glass but Anna put her hand over hers.

"Very neat," he said. "Except where's the proof? And if I could have killed him whilst the others were in the house, so could Warren or Toby. And, anyway, Evelyn Parry had the perfect motive, as well as the opportunity. Your little case, as you've just presented it, won't stand against that."

"EveIyn Parry might have had the motive and opportunity, but he did not kill Harold Gurney. I was watching the house. I watched him come out. I watched him wipe his windscreen. I also watched the door close behind him. He did not pull it shut. Harold was there to close it!"

"Yet the police are holding him."

"I have not told them that I was watching."

Percy narrowed his eyes as he thought. "You break into my flat, you watch the house in which Harold is murdered, you withhold information from the police. If I claim that you tried to plant that ring on me, I don't think they will believe you."

"I'm prepared to take that risk."

"It will be a battle of wits between you and me. An interesting challenge. Almost worth it."

Anna glanced surreptitiously at the clock. It had almost gone a quarter past..."Are you denying that you killed Harold Gurney?"

"Oh, no! Why deny it when you have so cleverly detected my crime! But I did not panic. He was going to call the police, so I stopped him. In fact, I probably did the chap a favour! You were quite right, he didn't put up a fight. No, I don't deny that I killed him. I merely challenge the fact that you can do anything about it. At best it will be my word against yours!"

"Not just my word," said Anna, with the merest hint of a smile.

Percy looked at her sharply. There was a note of triumph in her voice. His eyes moved swiftly to her bag.

"Give me that!"

He made a swift move to grab the bag, but Anna twisted out of his reach. Percy, however, was a cricketer. He was agile and his wits quick; before she had reached the kitchen door, a strong hand had grabbed her wrist and held it in a grip like steel. In response, Anna clasped the bag to her body with the elbow of the arm he held, and smacked him ineffectually, but satisfyingly, with her free hand. The hand wasn't free for long, but Anna had her chance to throw them off balance and they fell backwards out of the kitchen door. Anna, unfortunately, was underneath. The fall dazed her slightly and she was only dimly aware of an exclamation and a sudden movement. Percy, whose hands had been on her bag, made a move to stand up, but stronger hands were on him and a brief struggle saw him thrown to the ground and pinned there by a flushed Harris Butterworth.

"Anna! Are you all right?"

Anna sat up, rubbing her head and then her wrist. "Only just. You were late! You were supposed to arrive in time to overhear us!"

"You mean," gasped the fallen and breathless Percy, "You mean, there isn't a tape?"

"Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans...It was only a backup. I hope the recorder is still working."

"Just what is this all about?" The Brigadier demanded.

"Murder. And a few other crimes besides. This gentleman needs to be taken to the police station!"

Anna shook the tape recorder. Nothing rattled. She then re-wound it to the point where she asked Percy if he denied killing Harold Gurney and played it to the Brigadier.

Ten

It was late in the evening before Anna returned to her Holland Park home. Bill and Ben had been lent the car and told to drive themselves back their parent's house. It was the Brigadier's Jaguar that delivered her safely to her own front door.

"Would you like a drink; to wash away the taste of that exceptionally nasty coffee that they gave us at the police station?" Anna asked.

"That is very kind. I rather think that I would."

They went up to the office and Anna poured two brandies from a heavy glass decanter. She then sat down on the settee, but the Brigadier merely perched on one corner of her desk and fixed her with his most disapproving stare.

"You know, Lady Quartermain, you simply cannot withhold information from the police, ride around on unregistered motorbikes without a licence and break into people's houses with impunity. It is all very well to say to yourself that you are acting as a private investigator, but you must acknowledge the law. You have gone about things in a rather casual and unorthodox manner."

"Am I being reprimanded? Anyway, I didn't really drive that wretched thing myself. It just so happened that the policeman who came here noticed it falling apart outside my house. I could hardly tell them it was Bill's. He doesn't have a licence. And, after all, I caught their criminal and provided them with evidence. If they had tried to charge me for some minor irregularity, I would have been most annoyed."

"I did have a word with the Commander."

"Don't tell me; his son is in your regiment?"

"No. We were at school together."

"I must remember to exploit your useful range of friends in high places in future. It could be handy in my line of work."

"Are you determined to pursue this notion of being some sort of amateur detective?"

"I certainly am. On a very casual, unorthodox and irregular basis! You will need to keep on very good terms with your Commander friend. You will forever be bailing me out of police cells." She could not suppress the mischievous smile that crept over her lips as she observed the Brigadier frown with consternation. "Don't worry. You take me too seriously. I shall not go looking for mysteries to solve. They will have to come to me. Are you hungry? I could manage to produce some bread and cheese."

"Well, I...oh, very well." He had been about to decline, but something changed his mind. Anna was pleased. She went and fetched the food – the remains of a nice fresh loaf, some butter and some cheese. The Brigadier obligingly helped himself to some and ate, still standing, and looking rather uncomfortable in a very formal, well tailored suit. The brandy or the cheese or a combination of the two must have mellowed him very slightly for he deigned to exhibit something like curiosity.

"Why was I so specifically requested to arrive at the flat by six-fifteen?"

"Ah, well," began Anna, finishing the cheese she was eating before continuing. "I knew that Percy would arrive about then, as I was meant to be having dinner with him. So, I gave myself time to find the evidence I wanted to prove to myself that I was correct in my conclusions. But then I needed to get some solid, irrefutable proof that Percy had murdered Harold Gurney. The only thing to do was to get him to confess. I was banking on him being more arrogant than cautious, which he was. The only snag was that, in view of the irregular behaviour which you alluded to, my word was not going to be good enough. Percy worked out that much. My idea was to guide our conversation through to a point where he would be confident enough to confess his crimes at the very moment that you arrived. I had made sure that the door would be open and would show enough signs of having been forced to make you suspicious. You would walk in quietly to investigate, and overhear what was being said. Of course, a plan that demands such fine timing is almost unworkable. The tape was a back-up. Percy would never have let me leave with any of the evidence. I needed to have some reputable person as a witness. You are the most reputable person I know and you weren't directly involved with the case. Things didn't work out quite how I intended but..." she shrugged her shoulders.

"I was indirectly involved. Harold was a friend for many years...but, Anna – Lady Quartermain – I realise that you were fond of the man. You were going to dinner with him...it must have been very difficult for you..."

Anna shook her head vigorously. "No, you are wrong. There might have been moments when I thought that I was becoming fond of him, but something...there was always something I didn't like about him. His arrogance. I might have found him attractive in a way but, no, I have no feelings for him at all." The Brigadier had been there when they had played the tape at the police station. She rather wished that he hadn't. There had been all that talk about her marriage to Andrew.

"I thought... when I saw you at Quartermain House..."

So he had seen her kissing Percy.

"No. I might have behaved foolishly, but I never really cared for him."

Harris Butterworth seemed to be somewhat agitated. He walked over to the window and stood with his back towards her for a while. She watched the inexpressive back and wished she could see the face. When he turned again the face proved to be as unreadable as ever.

"I'm glad you did not like him. I thought him a most unpleasant young man from the moment I met him."

"Then you are a shrewd judge of character. The tape reveals the sort of man his is."

"It also revealed how very astute you were in your deductions."

"A compliment!" Anna felt the need to lighten the tone of their conversation with a little flippancy. Even the Brigadier relaxed his face into something like a smile.

"Yes, a compliment. A well deserved one." He looked at his watch and instantly became brisk and businesslike. "Well, Lady Quartermain, you must be tired. I'll leave you to get some rest."

"As you wish," she followed him to the door. As he opened it she asked, a little sheepishly. "You do play chess, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Not very often."

"It would give me great pleasure to challenge you to a game sometime."

"Would it? Well, I shall not decline such a challenge."

"How about tomorrow night? I can even feed you first, if you like."

"Very well. I can be here at eight."

"Precisely?"

"Precisely."

"I had to come myself and thank you." A pale but carefully dressed Lady Parry had been ushered up to Anna's office by Bill. Anna was looking rather pale herself. She sat on the settee in a loose dress, her legs bare, and a damp scarf tied around her forehead.

"Are you sure you are all right?" asked the visitor.

"Not quite. I have a shocking headache. Percy Blyth landed rather heavily on me in an attempt to get his hands on my tape recorder."

"My dear, we are so very, very grateful. Evelyn will come himself and thank you. It was such a relief when they released him. But who would have believed that of Percy? Warren was appalled. That a friend should blackmail him in that way!"

"Pretty nasty, eh. Our friend Percy turned out to be a rather nasty bit of work all round."

"How did you find out it was him? I simply would not have thought it possible."

"I'll tell you sometime when my brain is functioning a little better. But I can tell you one thing; if you had not come to me about Warren, I would never have known that Percy murdered Harold Gurney. It is even possible that Sir Evelyn would have been wrongly convicted. I only knew for sure that he was innocent because I was watching the house."

"Of course I shall pay the proper fee for all the investigations you have done."

"Oh, not to worry," said Anna, a little embarrassed by the suggestion. "I was glad to help. Anyway, I'm not really a proper business or anything. I've never thought of fees."

"Then you will accept a gift from a very grateful friend. I asked you to find out why Warren was borrowing money. You have done so. It took up a lot of your time. You also saved my husband from possibly being wrongly convicted of murder. Ah," she sighed. "You may think that, in the circumstances, I might not be too pleased to see him again."

"Well..." said Anna.

"I knew all along!" exclaimed the blonde woman with some spirit. "That is the silly thing. Poor Warren paying out all that money to save my feelings – the foolish boy paid thousands of pounds. And I knew all along. You may not understand why I chose to accept the fact that my husband was having an affair with my sister. Well," Amanda Parry started to fiddle with her ring, as was her habit when she was nervous or over-excited, "I had simply ceased to care. Perhaps you cannot imagine what it feels like to run out of emotion, to feel empty, numb. I suffered so much when I first discovered that he was having affairs – oh, it wasn't just one – and after...after I had tried to kill myself, I just ceased to care. I would have given him a divorce if he had ever asked for one. But he never did, and I couldn't summon up enough emotion or energy to demand one myself. And so it went on." She shrugged her shoulders in hopeless resignation.

"I'm sorry," said Anna quietly.

"Oh, don't be sorry. I don't hate him enough to want him to go to prison for a murder he didn't commit. The thought that he had killed Harold was just too horrible. I must admit, though, that I never really believed that he had. I know him too well. Evelyn is an indolent man. He is thoughtless, shallow and lazy. That is why he took his secretary and his sister-in-law as lovers. They were close at hand. But he wouldn't have killed a man. He has not got the courage. Harold was always the dominant personality of the two. No, I could not quite believe that he had killed him."

"Perhaps if I had known him better I would have realised from the start that it couldn't have been him," said Anna a bit guiltily.

"But who would have thought such a charming young man as Percy Blyth was really such a villain?"

"I should have known it, if I'd thought about it. He was arrogant. He assumed things were his by right. But never mind about him now." She took the scarf from her head with an impatient movement.

"Well, you must permit me to give you a small gift. Please do."

Anna thought of how much she had to pay the twins. And it wasn't cheap to run the car. The money that Andrew had so unexpectedly and thoughtfully left her would not last long at the rate she was spending it. But she would only ever charge her well-off customers.

"Perhaps..." she began.

"Good!" said Lady Parry. "Remember, it is a gift, no need to worry about awkward things like tax returns." She had pulled out her cheque book and was scribbling away with a little gold pen. Anna found that she was smiling. She had not earned a single penny by her own efforts before. It was only because Andrew had taken it into his head to re-write his will shortly before he was killed that she had felt happy to accept the portion of the Quartermain fortune which he had specifically left to her, the bulk of the estate having, of course, gone to Toby. In other circumstances, she would have had to earn her own living. She noted that the amount on the cheque consisted of four figures but she took it without examining the nature of those figures, thanking her visitor politely.

"Would you like some coffee?" she enquired.

"Thank you."

Anna asked Bill to make some, and then sat and chatted to Lady Parry about Susan Furnival, her jewels and her children until the coffee arrived.

"There is something I'd dearly love to know about," Anna was saying. "But perhaps it is unwise or unfair of me to enquire."

"About Susan?"

"Well, about Andrew and Susan," Anna was a little uncomfortable about asking such a question, but curiosity has a way of overpowering the finer feelings at times. "I have met Susan and she is quite charming. I like her very much. But there is one thing I can't quite understand; how did she ever come to marry someone like Andrew? I mean, you knew him, he was probably the person least suited to someone with Susan's open, easy-going, sociable temperament."

Amanda Parry laughed. "I quite understand your curiosity. There are no secrets about Andrew and Susan's relationship. They were always quite unsuited, right from the start. And they were both very young when they got married and very much in love. I can tell you the whole story if you like?"

"Please do."

"Well, Susan, as you know, was always very beautiful, very popular, very much in demand. Her father was a colonel, an army man. That is how she met Harris."

"The Brigadier? I always thought that he was Andrew's friend."

"Oh, he was. But it was Harris who met Susan first. He had been courting her for about a year. Everyone thought him very lucky. Not that he wasn't a nice looking young man, but he always had that reserve, that unapproachable quality. Andrew, meanwhile, had been abroad. When he came back Harris introduced him to Susan. Well, he was besotted from the start. He was a very witty, entertaining young man; a little eccentric even then, but he had character. But Susan stuck with Harris. They weren't a very demonstrative couple, but they seemed to get on very well and they went everywhere together. It was Harris who stunned us all by suddenly running off with Helena Dennis. I don't mean that he literally ran off with her. She had been courting another chap, but nothing came of it. When Harris saw his chance he took it. Everybody was astounded. To give up the beautiful Susan Dalton for plain little Helena Dennis! But Helena was a lovely girl, very down to earth and quiet, but quite self-assured. Obviously Harris found something in her that he hadn't in Susan. Certainly they were always very happy together."

"After that it was only a matter of time before Andrew and Susan got together. Now they were always a stormy couple. It was a very passionate relationship. They adored each other. But it was a relationship that was doomed from the start. They may have adored each other passionately, but I don't think that they ever really liked each other. I have a feeling that it was all very sexual. Anyway, it couldn't last and it didn't. Once they had divorced, I don't believe either bore any grudge, but once the passion had gone they had nothing in common. Except Toby, of course. He stayed with his mother, but she encouraged him to see his father as often as he wanted. And Harris, of course, remained friends with both of them."

Lady Parry had finished her little account and she looked to Anna for some response or comment but none came.

"I hope I haven't said anything to distress you?"

"No, not at all. I was just thinking. But do you want any more coffee?"

"No, thank you. I ought to be going. I had a word with Susan before I came to see you. The police have told her that they have her rings...they found the second ring in Percy's flat when they searched it. But there is no sign of the necklace. She told me to thank you."

In fact Susan phoned Anna shortly after Amanda Parry had left. Anna thought as she spoke to her: this woman was the love of Andrew's life! But she found that she felt no jealousy. The fact did not devalue her own friendship with Andrew, whilst it explained a lot about him. Indeed, she had been more surprised by what had been said about Harris Butterworth. After she put down the receiver, she returned to her place on the settee, re-wrapping the damp scarf around her head with a sigh.

"I deserve to lose this game, if only as a punishment for underestimating my opponent." Anna was surveying the board with growing dismay. "I s'pose I should have guessed that, being a military man, you are also a strategist." She reviewed the situation with a final sweep of her eyes. "I think I'd better accept defeat with good grace." She tipped her king over with her little finger in a gesture of surrender.

"I would feel more satisfied in my victory if I thought that you had given your full attention to the game."

"I'm ashamed to say that I was guilty of complacency; the inevitable result of having played chess with Andrew so much. He was a good enough player to make me pleased when I beat him, but at the same time he could never keep his mind on the game. You would get him into a beautifully constructed trap and he would say – "Ah, it was those barges that were his downfall..." and you would realise that half his brain was in another century. In the end I only half-concentrated, that way we got a better game out of it. But I should have realised that you would be a more formidable opponent. Another time I shall bring the whole of my armoury to bear and you will have more of a struggle on your hands."

Harris Butterworth stretched out his long legs and sat back in his chair. "Was I promised dinner?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh," said Anna. "I'm so sorry! It should be ready by now. Bill prepared it earlier and told me that all I had to do was to turn the oven on at the right time. I'll go and have a sniff." She disappeared into the kitchen. "It smells quite edible," she called. "I'll bring it in."

There was Boeuf Bourguignonne, French bread, salad, and a bottle of a rather better Burgundy than that which had gone into the cooking. As they ate Anna informed him,

"Bill has also made a rather exotic chocolate mousse. It must be exotic because the better part of that brandy went into it; that is, if it didn't go into the twins!"

"They are happy with the work they do?"

"Oh, yes. It has proved to be anything but routine...which reminds me, where do you work and who was the man with the gruff voice and the off-putting telephone manner? I'm prepared to sacrifice as many bottles of Burgundy as are necessary to produce a confession!"

Harris Butterworth raised his eyebrows and looked at her, continuing to eat as he did so.

"Well," he said at last, "I'll tell you the chap's name, or his Christian name, anyway. He is called Kingdom – after the engineer, one presumes. But no amount of Burgundy, pleasing though it is, will produce an account of the work I do. That probably tells you all you need to know."

"You said it was to do with your old regiment. Is that true?"

"Slightly."

"How can something be slightly true? Well, it is a challenge for my powers of deduction."

"Humph!" responded Harris Butterworth.

When they had finished the meal, which they both declared to be excellent, Anna made some coffee and poured the port. Whilst she did so she observed the unusual sight of Harris Butterworth tapping his fingers on the table to the sound of the music she was playing.

"I've always wondered," she ventured, "if food and wine would mellow you. It seems they do, just a little."

She was treated to the raise of one of the Brigadier's eyebrows by way of comment.

"A very little!" she added with a smile.

"Do I need to be mellowed?"

"Well, you are very nice, but such a very military man through and through. It has long been one of my ambitions to see you a little ruffled, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure that I do. But you don't have to call me Brigadier all the time. Andrew only used to do that to annoy me, and you seem to have picked up the habit."

"I couldn't possibly call you Harris."

"It is my name. I'm used to the sound of it."

Anna shook her head solemnly.

The conversation seemed to lose momentum and Harris Butterworth stood up and went over to the window, the curtains still being open. Anna watched his back as she had done the evening before, wishing that she had some idea of what he was thinking. Something to do with the work he could not talk about, perhaps. She stood up herself and went over to where the port decanter stood on her desk. She refilled her glass and turned to the window, half sitting on the desk top. Harris had turned and came over to her. He said not a word, but walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. For a moment he merely studied her face as if to gauge her reaction to his move. She could see the lines about his eyes, the fair eyelashes, the thin lips set as firmly as ever. The fairness of his face was offset by the taut self control which governed every feature. It was neither a beautiful nor a handsome face, but it expressed intelligence and strength of character.

Exactly what he read in her face she could not tell, but instead of stepping back, or transmuting the gesture into one of mere friendship, as could so easily have been done, he bowed his head to kiss her. He kissed, not her lips, but first the nape of her neck and then just below her ear. He lifted his head and looked at her again, but this time his expression was not so guarded. She had not the skill to guard hers, and he did not move away. Instead, he put one hand behind her head, the other moving round her waist, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her, at last, on the lips. It was, she reflected later, a great deal more disturbing than even the best vintage port.

How much more disconcerting Harris Butterworth might have become was to remain a mystery. With the sort of timing that only an unconscious Toby could manage, the young viscount arrived on the doorstep below just as this intriguing unthawing process was taking place in the Brigadier in the room above. He was, for one blissful moment, quite ruffled. But Anna was not to be permitted to enjoy this fulfilment of her spoken wish. She was obliged to go down and open the door and admit the boisterous Toby. By the time the two of them rejoined Harris Butterworth, he was as self-composed and stony-faced as ever.

"Hallo, Harris! Didn't expect to see you here. Has Anna fed you? Anything left?"

"Not a scrap. Except bread and cheese or chocolate mousse," said Anna.

"That will do admirably. What's the wine," he picked up the bottle and studied the label. "Mother's ever so pleased," he called out to Anna, who had gone to collect the required fodder. "I'm jolly impressed with your sleuthing. But what a damned shame about old Percy! Who'd have thought it? The viper in our bosom! Oh, thanks awfully." The food had arrived. Toby settled himself down comfortably and Anna filled a glass with wine and handed it to him. "Cheerio!" he said, happily, taking a gulp.

Toby dominated proceedings for about ten minutes, at which point Harris Butterworth glanced at his watch, observed the lateness of the hour and, thanking Lady Quartermain for the game of chess and the meal, prepared to take his leave.

"Perhaps we can have another game sometime, with all my brain present and correct," suggested Anna.

"Yes, I should like that. Goodnight. Goodnight Toby."

"G'night," called Toby, his mouth full of bread and cheese. "I say, I didn't break up the party, did I?" he enquired of Anna after the Brigadier had left.

"Not at all," she replied with a smile. She was quite happy to be generous to Toby. She may have lost the Brigadier for that evening, seen him raise his guard and retreat in an orderly manner; but she knew now that his defences were not impregnable. At least, not to her. She would see him again soon. The thought stirred in her feelings which were quite new to her; strange feelings. It was a little unnerving, but not wholly unpleasant.

The Quartermain Mysteries: written circa 1987

The Wellington Bureau

The Eleventh Commandment

The Five Gold Rings Mystery
