adds to some contract with the Higher Unseen. But I don’t know quite what they’ll do .’
‘I think it will involve using small brushes on a stick, Mrs Chitfield, to sprinkle water here and there as they move around.’
‘I see.’ Not unnaturally, the châtelaine of Drool Court received this further information with some misgiving.
‘But only a very little,’ Appleby added, hastily and reassuringly. ‘Not so as to damage the curtains and chintzes. But I must say that the Basingstoke Druids suggest themselves as rather an eclectic crowd.’
‘I suppose it is rather eccentric.’ Mrs Chitfield sounded a shade offended – having failed quite to gather an incautiously learned word. ‘But I felt, you see, that we should touch on a serious note, just at the end. Mark said that it was all going to be very silly – and I wouldn’t at all like that to be said about us, not with our position at Drool being what it is. It did occur to me that we might have some Deep Meditation, just before people drive away. But Cherry said people wouldn’t be in the mood for it – not when being Teddy bears, and calling themselves Bottom, and that sort of thing. One of Richard’s fellow-directors is calling himself Bottom. I think it sounds rather rude.’
‘Are many of your husband’s fellow-directors and business associates here?’ It seemed to Appleby that he’d had enough of the Basingstoke Druids, and that here was an opportunity for cautious exploration in another direction. ‘I gather he has important connections pretty well all over the world.’
‘Certainly he has.’ Mrs Chitfield made this affirmation with a proper pride. ‘For a long time, you know, it was sugar. Richard thought he could get all of it.’
‘All the sugar in the world?’
‘So he said – although I can’t think where he was going to keep the stuff. Sugar used to take us to some very nice places – among blacks, of course, but where there was always at least one quite top-class hotel. In the end, however, sugar fell through.’
‘Sifted itself away, as it were?’
‘Mark used to make that joke, Sir John.’ Mrs Chitfield said this without any apparent intention of mild rebuke, but Appleby was nevertheless abashed. ‘So Richard went into oil. He said he’d never be more than a small fish in oil. Mark had some joke about that, too, but I’ve forgotten it. Of course Richard – as you’d know if you knew him – worked himself up quite quickly. That was about the time we bought Drool.’
‘So everything was running smoothly. And is it oil still?’ As he asked this, Appleby felt that he was bordering upon impertinent – or at least unseasonable – inquisition. But the tea-drinkers were thinning out, and Mrs Chitfield seemed content to continue with family history.
‘I’m sure it’s mostly oil,’ she said. ‘But of course there are other things as well. “Interests” is the word for them. Oil has taken us around a good deal too, but mostly in the other direction from sugar. There are some very good hotels on the Persian Gulf. But we haven’t been to those parts so much lately, because of revolutions and things of that sort.’
‘And do you have many visitors from those parts at Drool? The place seems almost thronged with Arabs this afternoon. But of course they’re all just people in fancy dress, which is different. Or nearly all of them are.’ Appleby paused on this, but without result. Mrs Chitfield was merely looking vaguely round her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We don’t have many visitors – house-guests, I mean – from foreign parts at all. Richard and his friends have a special house in the country – larger than Drool, I think – where that sort of entertaining is done. We don’t go there, the children and I. It’s not what you would call a homely place at all.’
‘I see. I expect your husband likes to keep his home to himself – except on occasions like this. And he probably doesn’t bother you very
‘I think it will involve using small brushes on a stick, Mrs Chitfield, to sprinkle water here and there as they move around.’
‘I see.’ Not unnaturally, the châtelaine of Drool Court received this further information with some misgiving.
‘But only a very little,’ Appleby added, hastily and reassuringly. ‘Not so as to damage the curtains and chintzes. But I must say that the Basingstoke Druids suggest themselves as rather an eclectic crowd.’
‘I suppose it is rather eccentric.’ Mrs Chitfield sounded a shade offended – having failed quite to gather an incautiously learned word. ‘But I felt, you see, that we should touch on a serious note, just at the end. Mark said that it was all going to be very silly – and I wouldn’t at all like that to be said about us, not with our position at Drool being what it is. It did occur to me that we might have some Deep Meditation, just before people drive away. But Cherry said people wouldn’t be in the mood for it – not when being Teddy bears, and calling themselves Bottom, and that sort of thing. One of Richard’s fellow-directors is calling himself Bottom. I think it sounds rather rude.’
‘Are many of your husband’s fellow-directors and business associates here?’ It seemed to Appleby that he’d had enough of the Basingstoke Druids, and that here was an opportunity for cautious exploration in another direction. ‘I gather he has important connections pretty well all over the world.’
‘Certainly he has.’ Mrs Chitfield made this affirmation with a proper pride. ‘For a long time, you know, it was sugar. Richard thought he could get all of it.’
‘All the sugar in the world?’
‘So he said – although I can’t think where he was going to keep the stuff. Sugar used to take us to some very nice places – among blacks, of course, but where there was always at least one quite top-class hotel. In the end, however, sugar fell through.’
‘Sifted itself away, as it were?’
‘Mark used to make that joke, Sir John.’ Mrs Chitfield said this without any apparent intention of mild rebuke, but Appleby was nevertheless abashed. ‘So Richard went into oil. He said he’d never be more than a small fish in oil. Mark had some joke about that, too, but I’ve forgotten it. Of course Richard – as you’d know if you knew him – worked himself up quite quickly. That was about the time we bought Drool.’
‘So everything was running smoothly. And is it oil still?’ As he asked this, Appleby felt that he was bordering upon impertinent – or at least unseasonable – inquisition. But the tea-drinkers were thinning out, and Mrs Chitfield seemed content to continue with family history.
‘I’m sure it’s mostly oil,’ she said. ‘But of course there are other things as well. “Interests” is the word for them. Oil has taken us around a good deal too, but mostly in the other direction from sugar. There are some very good hotels on the Persian Gulf. But we haven’t been to those parts so much lately, because of revolutions and things of that sort.’
‘And do you have many visitors from those parts at Drool? The place seems almost thronged with Arabs this afternoon. But of course they’re all just people in fancy dress, which is different. Or nearly all of them are.’ Appleby paused on this, but without result. Mrs Chitfield was merely looking vaguely round her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We don’t have many visitors – house-guests, I mean – from foreign parts at all. Richard and his friends have a special house in the country – larger than Drool, I think – where that sort of entertaining is done. We don’t go there, the children and I. It’s not what you would call a homely place at all.’
‘I see. I expect your husband likes to keep his home to himself – except on occasions like this. And he probably doesn’t bother you very
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