LITMIR.BIZ

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his moustache. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘to suppose that the boys are in any sort of danger is quite monstrous, it is to insult them, Immy. Innocent people are in no kind of danger in these cases.’

      Frid looked towards the far end of the room, where the constable’s red head showed over the back of his chair. ‘Do you agree to all that?’ she said loudly. The constable, slightly startled, got to his feet.

      ‘I beg your pardon, Miss?’

      ‘It would be grand,’ Frid said, ‘if we knew your name.’

      ‘Martin, Miss.’

      ‘Oh. Well, Mr Martin, I asked if you would say innocent people are as safe as houses, no matter how fishy things may look?’

      ‘Yes, Miss,’ said the constable.

      ‘My good ass,’ said Henry, glaring at Frid, ‘who looks fishy?’

      ‘Henry, don’t speak like that to Frid.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Mama, but honestly! Frid is.’

      ‘I’m not,’ said Frid. ‘We all look fishy. Don’t we?’ she demanded of the constable, ‘don’t we look as fishy as Billingsgate?’

      ‘I couldn’t say, Miss,’ said the constable uneasily, and Roberta suddenly felt extremely sorry for him.

      ‘That will do, Frid,’ said Lord Charles. Roberta had not imagined his voice could carry so sharp an edge. Frid crossed the room stagily and sat on the arm of her mother’s chair.

      There was a tap at the door and the constable, with an air of profound relief, answered it. The usual muttered colloquy followed, but it was punctuated by a loud interruption outside. ‘It’s perfectly all right,’ said a cheerful voice in the hall. ‘Mr Alleyn knows all about it and Lady Lamprey expects me. If you don’t believe me, toddle along and ask.’

      ‘It’s Nigel!’ cried the Lampreys and Frid shouted: ‘Nigel! Come in, my angel! We’re all locked up but Mr Alleyn said you could come.’

      ‘Hallo, my dear!’ answered the voice. ‘I know. I’ll be there in a jiffy. They’re just asking – oh, thanks. Tell him I’ll come and see him later on, will you? Where are we? Thanks.’

      The constable admitted a robust young man who, to Roberta’s colonial eyes, instantly recalled the fashionable illustrated papers, so compactly did his clothes fit him, and so efficiently barbered and finished did he seem, with his hair drilled back from his reddish face, his brushed-up moustaches, and his air of social efficiency. He came in with a lunging movement, smoothing the back of his head and grinning engagingly, and rather anxiously, at the Lampreys.

      ‘Nigel, my dear,’ cried Charlot, ‘we’re so delighted to see you. Did you think it too queer of Frid to ring up? Everyone else did.’

      ‘I thought it marvellous of Frid,’ said Nigel Bathgate. ‘Hallo, Charles, I’m terribly sorry about whatever it all is.’

      ‘Damnable, isn’t it,’ said Lord Charles gently. ‘Sit down. Have a drink.’

      ‘Robin,’ said Henry, ‘you haven’t met Nigel, have you? Mr Bathgate, Miss Grey.’

      Roberta while she shook hands, had time to be pleased because Henry did not seem to forget she was there. As soon as Henry remembered Roberta, so did all the other Lampreys. ‘Poor Robin,’ said Charlot, ‘she’s just this second arrived from the remotest antipodes to be hurled into a family homicide. Do get your drink quickly, Nigel, and listen to our frightful story. We’re so dreadfully worried, but we thought that if we were having a cause célèbre you might as well get in first.’

      ‘And perhaps stave off the pressmen,’ added Frid. ‘You will, won’t you, Nigel? It really is a scoop for you.’

      ‘But what is?’ asked Nigel Bathgate. ‘I only got your message ten minutes ago and of course I came round at once. Why are Alleyn and his merry men all over the place? What’s occurred?’

      The Lampreys embarked on a simultaneous narrative. Roberta was greatly impressed by the adroit manner in which Nigel Bathgate managed to disentangle cold facts from a welter of Lampresian embroideries. His round red face grew more and more solemn as the story unfolded. He looked in dismay from one to another of the Lampreys and finally, with a significant grimace, jerked his head in the direction of the constable.

      ‘Oh, we’ve given up bothering about him,’ said Frid. ‘At first we talked French but really there’s nothing left to conceal. Aunt Kit told Mr Alleyn about the financial crisis and Daddy had to come clean about the bum.’

      ‘What!’

      ‘My dear Nigel,’ said Lord Charles, ‘there’s a man in possession. Could anything look worse?’

      ‘And as for the twins,’ said Frid, ‘your boy-friend turned them inside out and hung them up to dry.’

      ‘And I m-may t-tell you, Frid,’ said Stephen, ‘that he knows just what we did in the dining-room. You would wipe your painted mouth on the carpet, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘Good Lord!’ Henry ejaculated, and he threw two cushions down in front of the sealed door. ‘Why the devil didn’t we think of that before?’

      ‘Oh,’ said Stephen, ‘he says he didn’t bother to listen. I suppose we all give ourselves away t-too freely for it to be necessary.’

      ‘But what is all this?’ demanded Lord Charles. ‘What did you do in the dining-room?’

      Rather self-consciously his children told him.

      ‘Not very pretty,’ said Lord Charles. ‘What can he think of you?’

      There was a short silence. ‘Not much, I dare say,’ said Henry at last.

      ‘You had better –’ Lord Charles made a small despairing gesture and turned away. Frid spoke rapidly in French. Roberta thought she said that they had not been asked to give an account of the interview.

      ‘But no doubt,’ said Colin, ‘anything that we haven’t told him has been madly divulged by Aunt V. So why be guarded?’

      ‘But,’ Nigel interrupted firmly, ‘where is your Aunt Violet? Where is Lady Wutherwood?’

      ‘Asleep in my bed,’ said Charlot, ‘with a nurse on one side of it and her maid, who is determined not to leave her, on the other. So where Charlie and I are to spend the night is a secret. We don’t know. We’ve also got to bed down somewhere a chauffeur called Giggle, in addition to Mr Grumball.’

      ‘Yes, but look here, this is really serious,’ Nigel began.

      ‘Well, of course it is, Nigel. We know it’s serious. We’re all shaken to our foundations,’ said Frid. ‘That’s partly why we asked you to come.’

      ‘Yes, but you don’t sound –’ Nigel began and then caught sight of Charlot’s face. ‘Oh, my dear,’ he said, ‘I’m so terribly sorry. But you needn’t worry. Alleyn –’

      ‘Nigel,’ said Charlot, ‘what’s he like? You’ve so often talked about your friend and we’ve always thought it would be such fun to meet him. Little did we know how it would come about. Here I’ve been, sitting in my own dining-room, trying to sort of see into him, do you know? I thought I’d got the interview going just my way. And now, when I think it over, I’m not so sure.’

      ‘My dear Imogen,’ said Nigel, ‘I know you’re a genius for diplomacy but honestly, with Alleyn, if I were you, I wouldn’t.’

      ‘He laughed at me,’ said Charlot defensively.

      ‘Are you certain, Mummy,’ said Frid, ‘that it wasn’t sinister laughter? “Heh-heh-heh!”’

      ‘It

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