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do.’
    ‘They’re no further off than a good many people we do know. Who would be on visiting terms with them?’
    ‘I suppose the Birch-Blackies are likely to be.’ Judith seemed surprised at this inquisition. ‘Ambrose has to know everybody, because of the constituency. And Jane is a ceaselessly inquisitive woman.’
    ‘So she is. So these Chitfields aren’t immemorial ornaments of that remote part of the county?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. They certainly weren’t at Drool Court when I was a girl. I expect you’d find they’d arrived quite recently. This pageant affair sounds a pushing sort of thing. You make a big noise in aid of some charity or other, and people feel they must look in on it, and pay up, and generally acknowledge your existence. But if this Mr Chitfield simply sent the charity a cheque for the amount he’s willing to lay out in mounting his show, then quite probably–’
    ‘Yes, of course. I expect Mark Chitfield – the brother this girl talked about – says much the same thing to his father. He appears to be of a censorious turn of mind, too.’
    ‘I’m not being censorious, John. I’m merely mentioning some unimportant but tedious facts of English social life. But of course I may be quite wrong about those Chitfields.’
    ‘I don’t expect so. But, if you are, I’ll let you know.’
    ‘You’ll let me know!’ Lady Appleby stared at her husband. ‘You don’t mean you propose to go to this thing tomorrow?’
    ‘Well, yes – as a matter of fact I do.’
    ‘Then you’d better take Jane Birch-Blackie with you.’
    ‘I think not. My role will be that of a lone hunter.’
    ‘In the appropriate sort of fancy dress?’
    ‘Time is rather short for that. I think I might go as a Commissioner of Metropolitan Police. I have the togs for that in a drawer.’
    ‘But that wouldn’t be fancy dress, since I suppose you’re still entitled to wear those things if you want to.’ Judith didn’t make this point with any emphasis, since she knew that her husband’s suggestion was one there was not the least likelihood of his carrying out. ‘Not that it wouldn’t be rather fun,’ she added. ‘You’d scare them all stiff.’
    ‘I’m far from wanting to do that.’
    ‘John, is there anything sensible you do want to do about this affair?’
    ‘Well, yes – I believe there is.’ Appleby hesitated. ‘There was something odd about the way that girl was upset. You might say I’m minded to take a second bite at the Cherry.’
    ‘Very well.’ Lady Appleby, if not particularly diverted by this joke, appeared to judge it tactful to acquiesce in any proposal put forward by one so much at a loose end as her superannuated husband appeared to be. ‘I have to go shopping in Linger tomorrow morning. I’ll get you a ticket from Odger’s.’
    ‘And pay for it?’
    ‘Yes, certainly.’ Judith rose from the dinner table. ‘And I shan’t even ask for my money back,’ she added handsomely, ‘if all this derring-do proves to be a mare’s nest.’
     
    Later that evening, Appleby looked up Richard Chitfield of Drool Court in a work of reference. It was very much a business man’s entry, and rather colourless to any reader not hung up on the romance of commerce and industry. Mr Chitfield was the chairman of a group of companies, the activities of which were not particularized, and he was a director of a dozen others. Several City guilds had made him a liveryman, and he was declared to ‘control extensive interests’ in the Caribbean and the Middle East. He was, in fact, an important man in a far-flung and probably blameless and uninteresting way. Nothing was said about his parentage or education, but as a young man he had married the daughter of Councillor Parker-Perkins, and had apparently kept her on the books ever since. He had a son and two daughters, and his recreations were given as fly-fishing and ‘private theatricals’. This last and rather old-fashioned phrase was the only remotely