Appleby at Allington Read Free

harmless, and the audience enjoyed it. But – believe it or not – we’ve already had people prowling in the small hours with fuddled notions of real treasure-trove. If it goes on, Appleby, I’ll set Rasselas to bite great collops out of them.’
    ‘An excellent plan.’ Appleby stooped down and stroked Rasselas’ ear. Rasselas failed to respond by so much as a twitch. It appeared very doubtful whether he would be much of a performer in the collop-biting line.
    ‘Of course, the local folk wouldn’t behave like that. They’re my own people, in a sense.’ It was quite unaffectedly that Allington produced this feudal reflection. ‘Townees from the audience – and I rather suspect some of the technical chaps who set up the show. But at least they clear out tomorrow. I’ve insisted that the whole affair be dismantled and out of the park by noon. That’s because of the fête, you know.’
    ‘I don’t know about the fête.’
    ‘You’ll think I make a circus of the place every day of the year. But tomorrow’s the prescriptive date for our church fête, and I felt they might as well come along and get it over. It’s a very modest affair. House and gardens open, a few stalls with old women selling jam, and the vicar running some sort of gambling hell in a tent. My job is to walk around in a grey bowler hat. Have you a grey bowler, Appleby? If so, do come across, and we’ll walk around together.’
    ‘I’m afraid I only have a grey topper, which wouldn’t be at all the same thing. And I might alarm your vicar, if he knew I was a policeman. But about that treasure, Allington. Do you really suppose there may be anything of the kind buried within or near the castle?’
    ‘Ah!’ For a moment Allington hesitated. He was looking at Rasselas attentively, rather as if expecting the creature to raise its head from the rug and offer an opinion. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. It’s a story told about a good many Cavalier strongholds. And, of course, plenty of people did bury their plate, and so on – if they hadn’t melted it down in their unfortunate monarch’s cause already. But it seems to stand to reason that what got buried was pretty soon dug up again. I certainly haven’t sufficient faith in the story to start hunting round myself.’

 
     
2
    Appleby felt the topic of buried treasure to have exhausted itself. And the hour was growing very late. He had already made one move to depart, and been restrained by his host. He made a mental note to remember in future that Owain Allington was the type that expects conversation into the small hours.
    ‘It’s devilish good of you to keep me company,’ Allington said, with his odd effect of divining thought. ‘This time tomorrow, I’ll have more of it than I require. The fête will be over, but the family’s coming down. In time for all the mild fun, I suppose. As a matter of fact, I rather expected an advance-guard this evening.’
    ‘A fairly large house-party?’ Appleby asked. He hadn’t known that Allington possessed anything that could be called a family.
    ‘Nieces and nephews, you know – nieces and nephews. An elderly bachelor – have you noticed? – is invariably furnished with these. As I say, I thought my nephew Martin Allington might turn up on us after dinner. But he’s an unaccountable chap. My heir, I may mention. And don’t the others know it.’
    ‘Other nephews?’ It didn’t seem to Appleby that a man ought to talk about family expectations in this way to a mere acquaintance. But civility required that some question be put.
    ‘As a matter of fact, no. I was speaking loosely. What else I run to is three nieces, two of them married. Faith, Hope, and Charity.’
    ‘They’re not really – ?’ Appleby checked himself.
    ‘Indeed they are.’ Allington laughed a shade maliciously. ‘My poor sister-in-law was very devout. It’s Faith and Charity who are married – and will be bringing down their kids. Hope’s hoping