"You rotten sn.o.b!"

Rose hunched over on her side. "I am going to sleep. I hope this will all turn out to be a bad dream."

"How do you think Lady Rose is doing?" Kerridge was asking Harry.

"Probably suffering and blaming me for everything. Lady Rose likes to be radical and think she's at one with the common people, just so long as she doesn't have to meet any of them."

"Then this visit will do her good. We're no further forward except for one little thing. Well, may not be a little thing."

"What's that?"

"The Honourable Cyril Banks proposed to Dolly and was turned down."

"Let me see, that one has a bad reputation from drinking and gambling. I feel sure Dolly's parents told her to turn him down. No money there."

"Anyway, I'm going to interview him."

"Mind if I come along?" asked Harry.

"Very well. But I'll get a lecture from Judd over allowing amateurs into a Scotland Yard investigation."

"What about the gun?"

"We got the bullet. It was embedded in some stupid hat covered in dead birds. Our expert thinks it came from a lady's purse revolver, maybe a 0.2500 French-Belgian one."

"Any gun of that type registered to anyone?"

"We're working on it. Let's go and see what the Honourable Cyril has to say for himself."

They tracked Cyril down to The Club in St. James's. His manservant had told them that was where he had gone. The gloomy Inspector Judd had at last to realize that there was some benefit in bringing Harry along, for The Club would not have allowed policemen, however high-ranking, past the entrance. Since Harry was a member, he was sent it to winkle Cyril out.

Kerridge waited outside until Cyril, protesting volubly that he would have Harry blackballed, emerged at last from The Club and was helped into the police car and they all drove to Scotland Yard.

In Kerridge's office, a fl.u.s.tered Cyril was still protesting. "It is disgraceful that I should be dragged out of my club like a common criminal. I shall report you to the Home Office."

"Settle down, Mr. Banks," said Kerridge. "Only a few questions and then you will be driven back to your club. Now, we believe you proposed marriage to Miss Tremaine and were turned down."

"So what?" said Cyril. He raised his monocle, screwed it firmly in one eye and glared at Kerridge.

"As you know, we are investigating her murder."

"Here, now!" exclaimed Cyril. "I'm leaving. You're trying to pin this murder on me!"

"Sit down, Mr. Banks. No one is accusing you of anything. We simply, at this stage, want to ask a few questions about Miss Tremaine. Did she say anything or give any indication that she was being threatened?"

"Well, no. In fact she prattled on about the countryside and how she missed it. Empty-headed sort of girl."

"If you thought her empty-headed, why did you want to marry her?"

Cyril looked at the superintendent as if he thought the man had lost his wits.

"She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. What did it matter whether she had a brain or not?"

"How did you take it when you were rejected by her?"

"She didn't reject me, the parents did. Never got as far as popping the question to her. I asked her father's permission and he told me she was meant for greater things. I told him she couldn't do better than me and who did he think he was anyway? A mere country rector. Silly little man." didn't reject me, the parents did. Never got as far as popping the question to her. I asked her father's permission and he told me she was meant for greater things. I told him she couldn't do better than me and who did he think he was anyway? A mere country rector. Silly little man."

"Did you threaten Miss Tremaine?"

"No, I danced with her after that and I said I wanted to marry her but her father wouldn't let me ask her and she burst into tears, right on the dance floor. Her mother came up and dragged her off. Disgraceful!"

Harry studied Cyril while the interview was going on. He could imagine such as Cyril being capable of murder. He was an extremely vain fop from the top of his bear-greased hair to his tiny patent leather boots. He had a smooth round barbered face, small eyes and a small mean mouth.

"Did she talk about any friends, any acquaintances?"

"No; may I go now?"

"I suggest you remain in London for the time being. If you have urgent business in the country, you must report to me."

"That's it!" said Cyril furiously. "I'm off. The Prime Minister shall hear of your treatment and no, I am not going back to The Club in your rotten motor car. I shall take a hack."

Rose awoke late the next day. There was no sign of Daisy. She washed and dressed and went through to the living-room.

"Where is Daisy?" asked Rose.

"She very kindly took the children to school and then said she would go for a walk. I'll make you some breakfast although they'll all soon be back for dinner."

Rose was feeling uneasy and ashamed of her remark about peasants. What if they had heard her?

Sally bent over her cooking pots. "It's Plomley Fair next week and the girls are crying out for new dresses, but I told them there isn't the money to buy new frocks every year."

Rose thought about all her gowns lying in suitcases in the stables. "I have a great deal of clothes I will not need while I am here," she said. "I will go out to the stables and select some items which can be made over for the girls."

Sally stared in amazement at the young lady she had thought was a chilly aristocrat. Rose suddenly smiled. "If I were to do something, the time would pa.s.s more quickly. That way it would please your little girls and it would please me."

"Well, in that case ..."

"I'll go now," said Rose.

Daisy collected the children from school. She had already made a slingshot for Alfred out of a small forked branch and one of her garters and had bought sweets for the rest at the local village shop. "You're not to eat them, mind," she cautioned, "until after you've had your dinner."

She was still furious with Rose for being so high and mighty. Daisy was enjoying all this freedom of being away from the rigid cla.s.s system of London's top ten thousand.

When they all crowded into the living-room, an amazing sight met their eyes. On the horsehair sofa were spread out gowns in fine muslins, silks and satins.

"Ah, Daisy," said Rose, "I was just saying to Sally that we could make over some of my gowns to provide the girls with new dresses for the fair."

The girls screamed with delight. "Silence," roared their father. "Say thank you to Miss Rose and sit down at the table."

"Do we have to wear our pinafores over them?" asked Geraldine.

"Of course," said her mother. "Girls of your age without pinafores? Won't do."

Bert said grace. The meal was f.a.ggots in a rich sauce, followed by rhubarb tart.

"We're going to be right fat by the time we leave here," said Daisy and everyone laughed.

Rose ate steadily, enjoying the food. The rich food she was used to had never spurred her appet.i.te the way Sally's simple cooking did.

When Daisy went off to take the children back to school, Sally said, "I've a sewing-machine in the parlour."

The parlour was kept for high days and holidays. The sewing-machine was set up at a table by the window. The fireplace was stuffed with newspaper and the room was cold. A newer version of the horsehair sofa in the living-room dominated the parlour, along with two horsehair armchairs covered in slippery black leather. On the mantelpiece was a clock stuck forever at ten past twelve and on an occasional table sat a stuffed owl in a gla.s.s case. Against the wall opposite the window was an upright piano.

Sally saw her looking at it. "It's never played. Bert saved old Mrs. Carey's life once and she left him that in her will."

"I'm sure Daisy and myself can give your children lessons if you would like," said Rose.

Under her hard-looking exterior, Sally was actually shy and had been very nervous of housing this aristocrat and her companion. For the first time since they arrived, she began to feel at ease. "That would be lovely. I've got patterns there for all the girls. They had dresses made from them last year, but they've all grown a bit since then."

"I'll measure them all when they get home from school."

"Your beautiful gowns," said Sally awkwardly. "Won't you need 'em for yourself when you go back to Lunnon?"

"I can have more made," said Rose, giving Sally a glimpse of what is what like never to have to worry about money.

Mathew Jarvis was sending a very generous sum of money each week for Rose's and Daisy's upkeep. The thrifty Bert put it all in a savings account for his children's futures, keeping some back so that Sally could provide ample meals.

That evening, while Rose measured the girls and discussed which material they would like best, Daisy sat down at the piano and began to sing.

After finishing his beat, Bert was walking home with Dr. Linley, who lived farther along the road. The doctor stopped and said, "Listen!"

From the policeman's cottage came the sound of two voices. Rose had joined Daisy at the piano.

"You are my honeysuckle, I am the bee, I'd like to sip the honey sweet From those red lips, you see.

I love you dearly, dearly, and I Want you to love me- You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee."

"It's those girls, those distant relatives of ours," said Bert. "Seem to be settling in."

"Shh!" said the doctor.

Rose had started to sing "Just a Song at Twilight." Other villagers came to join them. The evening air was soft with a hint of summer to come.

Then a smart landau came along and stopped. "What's going on?" cried an authoritative voice.

"Lady Blenkinsop," muttered Bert gloomily. "We're listening to one of my relatives singing," he said aloud.

Lady Blenkinsop listened as well. "Very good," she said at last. "They will sing for me. Fetch them out."

What would Kerridge say to this development? wondered Bert. But Lady Blenkinsop, for all her airs and grand house, was only the widow of an ironmaster who had bought his t.i.tle. And she never went to London.

The crowd waited until Rose and Daisy came out. There was a polite spattering of applause.

"Come here!" barked Lady Blenkinsop.

By the light of the carriage lamps, Rose saw a very small, sour-looking woman dressed in widow's weeds.

Daisy suddenly wished Rose would look, well, more messy. messy. Even in a plain white blouse and skirt, Rose looked impeccable and she had dressed her hair fashionably. Even in a plain white blouse and skirt, Rose looked impeccable and she had dressed her hair fashionably.

Daisy curtsied but Rose held herself ramrod-stiff and demanded in glacial tones, "Yes?"

"Yes, what, my girl? I have a t.i.tle."

"What do you want?" asked Rose.

"I want you and the other one to come and sing for me tomorrow afternoon."

"I am afraid we are otherwise engaged," said Rose. "Good evening to you. Come, Daisy."

Rose turned on her heel and strode back into the house.

"That uppity little minx needs a taste of the birch," fumed Lady Blenkinsop. "Drive on."

Two days later, Bert was summoned by the police commissioner in York. Lady Blenkinsop had accused him of insolence.

"I will go with you," said Rose.

"You'll make matters worse," groaned Bert.

Sally returned after seeing Bert off at the station. "Do not worry," said Rose. "If your husband is dismissed, then my father will support him."

The policeman's wife whipped round. "And you think that'll solve the problem, la.s.s? My Bert's proud of his job. You've brought nothing but trouble."