detective novel. However, she believed she didnât get tipsy very easily. So she asked for more sherry.
âOf my doing something kind?â she asked.
âCertainly. This Captain Bulkington â surrounded by his horrible half-wit youths, and not even able to beat them â probably leads a very dull life. A lonely life, too. What he seeks is simply some pleasant professional association. And you would benefit from it yourself, Priscilla. As a writer, that is. Havenât some of the reviewers been saying that you have rather run the clergy to death? Literally to death, more often than not. Your art might well benefit from fresh associations. You could stay at âKandaharâââ
âThat would be most improper.â
âThere is probably a respectable matron or housekeeper or the like who would preserve the convenances . And think of all those youths. They would make a fascinating study. Several of them would probably fall in love with you. Those from long-broken homes, for instance, who have never known a mother.â
âOr even a maiden aunt.â Miss Pringle spoke tartly. Barbaraâs delightful nonsense could be extremely tiresome. âYou seem to be much more obsessed with this man than I am. Why not pick him up, and collaborate with him yourself?â
âWhy not, indeed?â Miss Vanderpump waved her replenished glass gaily. âCollaborate, that is. The expression âpick him upâ is a somewhat indelicate one. Or why should we not all three collaborate? It would be the greatest fun. Captain Bulkington no doubt takes a keen interest in military history. A romance of the Napoleonic Wars, perhaps. A title comes to me like a flash! Revelry by Night . The reference would be to the Duchess of Richmondâs ball in Brussels on the eve of Waterloo. At the same time, it would be un mot à double entente ââ
âWhich, I suppose, is the correct French for what most of us call a double entendre ?â
âExactly. And we should be in rivalry with Thackeray in Vanity Fair , not to speak of Lord Byron in Childe Harold . Of course there would be a mystery element, Priscilla, such as only you could provide.â
âThank you. But I donât think Captain Bulkington would be interested in historical romance, even with mysterious corpses thrown in. His taste is for the small-scale and the everyday. He was discontented with Murder in the Cathedral because the cathedral wasnât something more manageable, such as a parish church. How, he asked me, is a fellow to come by a cathedral?â
âMy dear Priscilla, if that isnât fishy, what could be fishy? Captain Bulkington is a homicidal maniac.â Miss Vanderpump had recklessly changed ground. âHe lives amid fantasies of cunningly contrived murder. He dreams of possessing himself of diabolical infernal machines and poisons unknown to toxicology. When he discovered who you were, you inevitably went to his head.â
âAnd you regard all this as a good reason for collaborating with him?â
âCertainly. There is scope in Captain Bulkington for the most fascinating psychological study.â
âI think it would be better if his mind were diverted to the Battle of Waterloo.â Although speaking lightly, Miss Pringle was conscious of feeling considerable perturbation. She was far from certain that there was not some germ of truth in Barbara Vanderpumpâs frolicsome interpretation of her adventure. âDo you think,â she asked impulsively, âthat I ought to tell the police?â She paused. âSeriously, Barbara?â
âPerhaps you should. Why not tell this interesting man Appleby, whom we are going to meet tonight?â
âI donât think that would quite do. Hasnât he retired? And, in any case, it would not be suitable on a social occasion.â
âI am unable to agree â not, Priscilla dear, if you do it with proper
London Casey, Ana W. Fawkes