know what can have prompted you to accept Lady Osprey’s invitation to Clusters.’
‘I’ve come to Clusters with you simply because I judged the invitation to be extremely opportune.’
‘So it was, my dear. Most opportune. With Adrian–’
‘We are not thinking, Mama, of the same opportunity. It was Lord Osprey, and not his son, who was in my head. You see, I’d been corresponding with Lord Osprey, and I wanted to establish a closer contact with him.’
‘Corresponding…closer contact? ’ It was clear that unspeakable images had momentarily presented themselves to Lady Wimpole’s vision. But with an effort she controlled herself. ‘Honoria,’ she said, ‘just what do you mean?’
‘I mean for one thing, Mama, that you keep on ignoring my profession. Numismatics, Mama. Coins. It so happens that I curate them. Just as that brother of Lady Osprey’s does. Marcus Something.’
‘Broadwater, my dear.’ Before her daughter’s sudden vehemence, Lady Wimpole was confused and placatory. ‘And of course you have your profession. One hears nowadays of so many girls having professions. And your father and I are both very pleased about it. Only, I am sorry you have to work in that dull old museum, and not at the Mint. The Mint is the Royal Mint, you know, so I am sure it must have the nicest coins. But what has this to do with Oliver Osprey?’
‘I must have told you several times that he has – or had, since he’s now dead – a rather notable collection of coins which he has always been very cagey about. I wanted to learn something about them, and in particular whether he really possessed two or three unique things he’d been known to brag about. But when I wrote to him he sent me only brief replies and blank refusals. Then I happened to run into him at a party in town, and I nobbled him and chatted him up. And finally he said that the next time we came to stay with him here at Clusters, he would show me this and that. It was all slightly absurd, because the Osprey Collection certainly isn’t one of the great private collections, and yet his lordship seemed to make quite a privilege of the thing. It was rather as if the last female he’d shown the coins to had been Queen Mary. If it had been, I’ll bet she’d have possessed herself of something pretty valuable to remind her of a delightful occasion. You know what she was.’
‘Honoria, dear, I’ve had to tell you several times that it’s bad form to make fun of the Royal Family. Your grandfather never made fun of Dickie, although it would have been fairly easy to do sometimes.’
‘Who in the world was Dickie, Mama?’
‘He was a great-grandson of Queen Victoria, Honoria. And he became, among other things, First Sea Lord, as his father had been before him.’ Lady Wimpole was clearly displeased at her daughter’s ignorance of these quasi-dynastic matters. ‘But what about those coins you were so interested in? Did poor Oliver in fact show them to you?’
‘No, indeed, Mama. No such luck. I think he meant to do so either today or tomorrow. But, instead, he got himself killed. It was vexatious of him, was it not? What I have to do now, of course, is to chat up Adrian. I suppose he inherits the things, along with everything else. Only – as I’ve made clear to you, Mama – he isn’t going to inherit me .’
13
While this conversation was going on, Appleby had sought out Ringwood, and found him in the library. Two policemen, a sergeant and a constable, were hard at work taking the books in careful handfuls from the shelves, flashing a torch into the cavity thus exposed, and then putting the books back again. They clearly found this dull and sweaty work, but were uncomplaining, nevertheless. Ringwood, on the other hand, was excited and almost triumphant.
‘Speed!’ he said to Appleby. ‘Impetus! It’s the royal road to successful investigation. Think of that dreadful affair in Yorkshire, Sir John. Dozens of men bogged down in
‘I’ve come to Clusters with you simply because I judged the invitation to be extremely opportune.’
‘So it was, my dear. Most opportune. With Adrian–’
‘We are not thinking, Mama, of the same opportunity. It was Lord Osprey, and not his son, who was in my head. You see, I’d been corresponding with Lord Osprey, and I wanted to establish a closer contact with him.’
‘Corresponding…closer contact? ’ It was clear that unspeakable images had momentarily presented themselves to Lady Wimpole’s vision. But with an effort she controlled herself. ‘Honoria,’ she said, ‘just what do you mean?’
‘I mean for one thing, Mama, that you keep on ignoring my profession. Numismatics, Mama. Coins. It so happens that I curate them. Just as that brother of Lady Osprey’s does. Marcus Something.’
‘Broadwater, my dear.’ Before her daughter’s sudden vehemence, Lady Wimpole was confused and placatory. ‘And of course you have your profession. One hears nowadays of so many girls having professions. And your father and I are both very pleased about it. Only, I am sorry you have to work in that dull old museum, and not at the Mint. The Mint is the Royal Mint, you know, so I am sure it must have the nicest coins. But what has this to do with Oliver Osprey?’
‘I must have told you several times that he has – or had, since he’s now dead – a rather notable collection of coins which he has always been very cagey about. I wanted to learn something about them, and in particular whether he really possessed two or three unique things he’d been known to brag about. But when I wrote to him he sent me only brief replies and blank refusals. Then I happened to run into him at a party in town, and I nobbled him and chatted him up. And finally he said that the next time we came to stay with him here at Clusters, he would show me this and that. It was all slightly absurd, because the Osprey Collection certainly isn’t one of the great private collections, and yet his lordship seemed to make quite a privilege of the thing. It was rather as if the last female he’d shown the coins to had been Queen Mary. If it had been, I’ll bet she’d have possessed herself of something pretty valuable to remind her of a delightful occasion. You know what she was.’
‘Honoria, dear, I’ve had to tell you several times that it’s bad form to make fun of the Royal Family. Your grandfather never made fun of Dickie, although it would have been fairly easy to do sometimes.’
‘Who in the world was Dickie, Mama?’
‘He was a great-grandson of Queen Victoria, Honoria. And he became, among other things, First Sea Lord, as his father had been before him.’ Lady Wimpole was clearly displeased at her daughter’s ignorance of these quasi-dynastic matters. ‘But what about those coins you were so interested in? Did poor Oliver in fact show them to you?’
‘No, indeed, Mama. No such luck. I think he meant to do so either today or tomorrow. But, instead, he got himself killed. It was vexatious of him, was it not? What I have to do now, of course, is to chat up Adrian. I suppose he inherits the things, along with everything else. Only – as I’ve made clear to you, Mama – he isn’t going to inherit me .’
13
While this conversation was going on, Appleby had sought out Ringwood, and found him in the library. Two policemen, a sergeant and a constable, were hard at work taking the books in careful handfuls from the shelves, flashing a torch into the cavity thus exposed, and then putting the books back again. They clearly found this dull and sweaty work, but were uncomplaining, nevertheless. Ringwood, on the other hand, was excited and almost triumphant.
‘Speed!’ he said to Appleby. ‘Impetus! It’s the royal road to successful investigation. Think of that dreadful affair in Yorkshire, Sir John. Dozens of men bogged down in
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