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Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage .’
    ‘No, dear – but of course you may.’ Lady Ampersand was perhaps a little at sea over the meaning of this remark. ‘And do go on talking to your father about it. It may be important. Your aunt thinks so.’
    The ladies withdrew, and Archie brought up a chair beside Lord Ampersand. Ludlow, who had been privileged to listen in on the family confabulation so far, made certain ritual passes with decanters and the cigar-box, and withdrew. Father and son remained under the observation only of a few deceased Digitts – commemorated by artists too obscure to be of regard in the sale-rooms.
    ‘Total nonsense,’ Lord Skillet said. ‘I suppose you realize that?’
    ‘I’m not clear that I do. Of course I can’t stand your confounded Aunt Agatha. Never could. Has her head screwed on the right way, all the same. Have to give her that.’ Lord Ampersand was inclined to resent his son’s assumption that his son’s was the only brain within hailing distance of the Digitt family. ‘And Geraldine had a point, you know – which is rare enough with her, God knows. About our knowing nothing about this Adrian chap. He may have lived here in the castle all his days. People do, don’t they? Look at your sisters. Never out of the place for six months together. Hold meetings of Conservative washerwomen in the billiard-room.’ Dimly aware that he was rambling, Lord Ampersand paused to collect himself. ‘Adrian may even have brought Shelley and all that crowd to batten on the place. Rest-home for them when they grew tired of drinking champagne out of ballet-girls’ dancing-slippers.’
    ‘One certainly couldn’t keep that up for long.’ Archie, as he sometimes did, gazed at his father as if he were an exhibit in a zoo. ‘But it’s true we know nothing about this Adrian. I must have a go at finding out about him.’
    ‘Much more important to have a go at those damned papers. At least they’re now all in one place. And none of those Nosey-Parker fellows coming around any more.’
    ‘That’s certainly advantageous. But what you’re suggesting, you know, would be an uncommonly time-consuming job.’ Lord Skillet paused. ‘Still, I suppose I could manage it.’
    ‘Ah!’ Lord Ampersand paused too. ‘Would you know a letter of Shelley’s if you saw it, my boy?’
    ‘Yes, of course. I mean, I’d quickly learn to.’
    ‘No doubt you have the head for it.’ Lord Ampersand chose a cigar. ‘But I think we ought to have a pro.’
    ‘A pro?’ The heir of Treskinnick stared at his father in astonishment. ‘What do you mean, a pro?’
    ‘Fellow who does that kind of thing at the varsity. Or in one of those museums or libraries. Plenty of ’em, I don’t doubt. Your mother’s idea, as a matter of fact.’
    ‘I think it’s quite unnecessary – a waste of money.’ Lord Skillet paused to study his father – but not, this time, as if he were in a zoo. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘it might be worth the gamble. If he turned up just one letter of Shelley’s that another man might miss, he’d more than earn his keep for a couple of months.’
    ‘Is that so?’ Lord Ampersand was much impressed by this equation. ‘Advertisement in Country Life , eh? Where they have the nannies and married couples and young gentlewomen who can drive cars and so on.’
    ‘That would be just the thing.’ Lord Skillet paused meditatively, and then at leisure produced an afterthought. ‘Or look here – leave it to me for a bit. I’ll inquire around – and no expense involved. I may draw a blank, of course. But I may find just the right book-worm type.’
    ‘Capital plan!’ Lord Ampersand was constitutionally averse to small cash disbursements. ‘And no heel-taps, Archie. We’ll go and tell your mother.’

4
     
    Our scene shifts to Budleigh Salterton, where Miss Deborah Digitt is giving young Charles Digitt tea. It may be recalled that Charles had formed a more favourable opinion of this mature lady’s