Death at the Chase by Michael Innes Page B

The other driver had been in the wrong, and if the damage was considerable he would have to pay. An inspection of the state of affairs, and an exchange of information and civilities, seemed all that was required. And if the driver proved to be a foreigner, one ought no doubt to be more forbearing still. But Giles Ashmore was of another mind. He was first out of the Mercedes, and addressing himself in tones of high indignation to what turned out to be the solitary occupant of the other car. If Giles wasn’t exactly drunk he had no appearance of being entirely sober either. Perhaps a little artificial courage might be useful with his uncle. But it was being a nuisance now.
    ‘Damn and blast you!’ Giles was shouting robustly. ‘Can’t you see you’re on the wrong side of the road? And what the hell are you doing here anyway? This is a private drive. You have no business here at all.’
    ‘ Au contraire, mon vieux .’ Not unsurprisingly, the driver of the car with the French headlights was a Frenchman – a young Frenchman who had now descended to the road and was regarding Giles’ surprise with some amusement. ‘But this accident has been entirely my fault. It is your car, my dear Giles? It is a friend’s? Happily the damage seems not severe. But the fullest reparation shall be made. Please introduce me, my dear fellow.’
    ‘It’s Jules – Jules de Voisin – the chap who’s marrying my sister Virginia. Said to be some sort of relation, in a vague way.’ Giles produced this in a graceless mutter, and then turned back to de Voisin. ‘This is my friend Finn,’ he said shortly, ‘and a friend of Finn’s called Bobby. It’s Bobby’s car you’ve buggered up.’
    ‘Not exactly buggered up,’ Bobby interposed – and wondered what de Voisin would make of this simple English colloquialism. ‘A crumpled wing each. But I think we’re both still mobile, and that’s the main thing.’
    ‘I am most relieved.’ De Voisin responded instantly to this more civilized speech. ‘And I reiterate my regrets. As to our good Giles’ question about my business here, I have simply been visiting my kinsman, Martyn Ashmore – whom you will know to be Giles’ uncle. A visit pour prendre congé , as you English used to delight to say. I am shortly to go home for a while, and it appeared a necessary, as well as an agreeable, attention to pay. On my own behalf and Virginia’s, my dear Giles. In fact I ventured to make my kinsman a small present – alike from Virginia and from myself.’
    Finn, who had been prowling round both cars without taking any part in these exchanges, produced at this point a wild shout of laughter. That this smoothly spoken Frog had been up to precisely the same game as Giles was something which appeared to amuse him very much. He turned to Giles now.
    ‘There’s a tip for you,’ he said. ‘ Finesse , man! Tell your uncle that the grocer’s claret is from you and the flat champagne from his Robina. From your Robina, I mean. Nothing’s more likely to crown the success of your little venture. And now let’s do another spot of the congé business with this chap, and get moving.’
    Bobby – who was beginning to find something perplexing in Finn’s attitude to their affair – agreed that they had better get on. They were already running late on any schedule that he had himself contemplated, and he didn’t much want to arrive back at Long Dream with a noisy Finn in the small hours. So after satisfying himself with a decent solicitude that this night-wandering Frenchman’s wretched car was in fact in running order, he exchanged addresses with him, and then shoved his two companions back into the Mercedes. The solitary Martyn Ashmore quite possibly kept very early hours. It would be extremely tedious if they had to get him out of bed. As he moved off, he glanced into his driving-mirror. De Voisin had shifted his car to its proper side of the road. But now he had got out again and was standing