‘News travels as fast as ever.’
‘I suspect it was your telegram to Edna that alerted the entire village. As for our having tales to tell, it seems we made the newspapers.’
‘It was only a matter of time,’ I said. ‘I know Lord Riddlethorpe was keen to minimize the scandal, but he was never going to keep the press away from a story like that.’
‘Well, quite. And in return for supper and a raid on their wine cellar, Gertrude expects a first-hand account.’
‘Will Sir Hector also want a solution to his go-cart mystery? What are you going to tell him?’
‘Oh, that,’ she said. ‘I’ve had the solution to that since Thursday. Simple, really, and yet ingenious and fascinating at the same time.’
‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’
‘Of course not, dear. You heard the answer as clearly as I did. You’ll just have to wait until dinner.’
‘They’ll never find your body,’ I said. ‘You’ll just disappear one day. “Where’s Lady Hardcastle?” they’ll say. “I’ve no idea,” I’ll say. “She didn’t even leave a note. But she always was a little peculiar.” “Yes,” they’ll say. “A very odd fish. Still, good luck. Let us know if she contacts you, won’t you.” And that will be that.’
‘You’re quite frightening sometimes, dear. Is there any coffee?’
There was something comforting about the unfashionable shabbiness of the Farley-Strouds’ home after the classic elegance of Codrington Hall. Where Lord Riddlethorpe’s furniture had been in the family for generations, Sir Hector and Lady Farley-Stroud had had to furnish their home from scratch when they returned unexpectedly from India. They had a few family pieces, but most had been purchased brand new thirty years ago. Where Lord Riddlethorpe’s furniture was old, the Farley-Strouds’ was merely old-fashioned. Some items would be rare and valuable antiques in a hundred years, but for now they were just out of date. And I liked it like that. Theirs was a home, not a museum with bedrooms.
‘Bring your drinks through to the dining room,’ said Sir Hector when Jenkins announced that dinner was served. ‘Pretty certain it would make a sommelier faint, but I always find that gin goes with everything, what?’
We entered the dining room. Mrs Brown had done herself proud again, and the meal was wonderful. Jenkins had done well with his wine choices, too, and my gin and tonic was forgotten as I indulged my palate with the clever combinations of food and wine through five delicious courses.
With less than her customary level of embellishment, Lady Hardcastle recounted the events of the past week. With less than their customary level of interruption, Sir Hector and Lady Farley-Stroud hung upon her every word.
‘I say!’ said Lady Farley-Stroud when the tale was done. ‘Emily, you do live a far more exciting life than we. And how lucky your friends are that you were there. It doesn’t do to think of what that dreadful woman might have done if you hadn’t been there to stop her. That’s why we never have attractive young women working at The Grange, dear. They’d never be able to resist Hector. Trouble waiting to happen.’
I declined to mention Dora, the extremely attractive young housemaid. Sir Hector’s look of bewildered pride that anyone might find him a temptation was a treat.
‘Very wise,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And how has everything been here while we’ve been away? How’s your cart coming along, Hector?’
‘Slow goin’, m’dear,’ said Sir Hector. ‘Tryin’ my damnedest to keep it secret from Jimmy. Makes it hard to get anything done. Poor Bert is tryin’ to work in secret, but without knowin’ how Jimmy’s cheatin’, we can’t take too many chances.’
‘I think I can help you there,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘You can? I thought you’d have been far too busy tryin’ to catch murderers to give any thought to my little problems.’
‘I can, indeed. I think you said that Jimmy races pigeons.’
‘He does, yes. Got a few little beauties. Champions. Races ’em all over the country.’
‘And what exactly does a pigeon race entail?’
‘You take all the birds off to a spot miles from home, and the first bird to get back to its owner is the winner. Simple enough. Damn clever birds, pigeons.’
‘They are,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘They have an uncanny knack for flying home. No one knows how they do it.’
‘Quite so, quite so,’ he said.
‘Now, my new friend Helen Titmus – charming woman, by the way – takes the most exquisite photographs. She’s setting up a business. You should get her to photograph the house. And the family. How is dear Clarissa? And her new husband . . . ? Adam, that’s it. How are they? Are you feeling better about it all now?’
‘It was a bit sudden, wasn’t it?’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘Especially after the business with the Seddon boy. But they do seem happy. And she’s expecting their first child in February. Telephoned the other day.’
‘I say,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What wonderful news. Congratulations, Grandmama.’
Lady Farley-Stroud beamed proudly. Sir Hector’s pleasure was slightly dimmed by his frustration at having his explanation interrupted.
‘Knows a lot about pigeons, then, this Helen Titmouse of yours?’ he said.
‘Oh, Hector, I’m sorry. I do get distracted. But it’s wonderful news, don’t you think? Your first grandchild?’
‘Spiffin’,’ he said. ‘As long as it doesn’t inherit its father’s looks, it’ll be fine. Or its father’s brains. Or its mother’s brains, for that matter.’
‘Hector!’ said Lady Farley-Stroud in her sternest voice.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Couple of buffleheads, the pair of them. I’ll bet your Helen Titmouse isn’t a bufflehead.’
‘Titmus, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And no, she’s as sharp as a hedgehog’s overcoat, that one.’
‘And she solved my riddle?’ he persisted. He really was a patient old chap. I was on the verge of snocking her one.
‘Not quite, dear,’ she said, and he almost sighed. ‘But she did tell me about a gadget invented by some German fellow. She was quite excited about it. She showed me an article in a magazine.’
Sir Hector raised his bushy eyebrows expectantly.
‘I rather think that your pal Jimmy has made himself a pigeon camera.’
‘A what?’
‘This German chap, I forget his name. Neubronner, or some such. He was using pigeons to deliver medicine, and he thought, “I know what. If I put a camera on the pigeon instead of the medicine, it will photograph whatever it flies over. Wouldn’t that be splendid?” So he did.’
‘And you think Jimmy has done somethin’ like that?’ said Sir Hector.
‘It all fits. It’s impractical, it’s convoluted, it’s extremely silly, and it suits your pal Jimmy down to the ground.’