ex-burglarâs face became suffused with a snobbery exquisite in its unselfconscious purity â âheâs always popping in and out of our place. Says Mollieâs Victoria sponge is the stuff dreams are made of. William Shakespeare, The Tempest , Act IV, Scene I.â
âYou donât say! Istvan. Funny sort of name.â
âAh. Thatâs account of his granny, the countess. Hungarian for Stephen. Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Istvan. Thatâs what it ought to be, only it donât rhyme with âevenâ. One of the Karhazy family, the old countess,â the little man went on. âOwned half of Hungary, till the Reds took it away. You can read it all in that guidebook you got there.â
âOh ah. Dull as ditch water. They always are. The people in charge here ought to put you on to writing a fresh one.â
âFunny you should say that.â Percy Tollerâs glow became positively incandescent. âMollieâs always on at me about that very thing. Will she be chuffed to hear I ran into you! Mr Jurnet!â â the little man repossessed himself of the detectiveâs hand â âHow about a bite of tea with us after we shut up shop here? Itâd be an honour! We close at six sharp, and it donât take me ten minutes to bike home. Thereâs a nice bit of ham â I got it myself in Bersham this morning, to be sure itâs fresh in this heat, so I know thereâs plenty for three, anâ Mollieâs always got a cake in the cake tin on the off-chance someone may drop in ââ
âStuff dreams are made of, eh?â Jurnet had no difficulty in making his voice suitably regretful. Ham and Victoria sponge with the undemanding Tollers was infinitely to be preferred to the high fibre and high thinking to be expected at the Marches. For a moment he was tempted. Then: âOnly wish I could say yes. Previous engagement, Iâm afraid. Like the Yanks say, can I take a rain check on it?â
âAny time, Mr Jurnet! Pippins, Bullensthorpe. Anyone âll direct you.â
âIâll do that. Meanwhile, give Mollie my love and say how much I look forward to seeing her again soon. I must be getting on,â Jurnet finished without enthusiasm. âI suppose if I keep going Iâll end up in the Appleyard Room eventually?â
âYouâll see a sign at the end of the passage.â Percy Toller shook his head in wonderment. âFancy you, a police officer of all people, anâ never been there before!â
âThere has to be a first time for everything.â
âNo offence meant,â the little man responded quickly, âand none taken, I should hope. Itâs only â I mean, a man like that, one of our great English heroes, like Nelson and Lawrence of Arabia, and him local, too ââ
âIâm not much of a one for heroes,â Jurnet said, not for the first time that day.
âBut he was a wonderful man! A modern Scarlet Pimpernel.â
âGive me Leslie Howard any day of the week.â
âNow I know youâre joking! Just you wait till you see all the things they got there about him.â
âDrowned, wasnât he? I seem to remember something ââ
âAh, that was a tragedy, all right. Down by the old mill. You can actually see it from the Appleyard Room â well, not this time of year, but in the winter when the leaves are down. Falling to pieces even then, so they say. Bit of the old grid, or whatever it is they call it, regulates the flow of water, suddenly dropped and caught him square on the back of the neck, just as he come swimming by. Nearly took his head off, by all accounts â just like George Bullen, his ancestor.â The little man looked suitably portentous. âHistory repeating itself, as you might say.â
âNot quite in the same class as going to the block for incest.â
âBeheaded, I
Rachel Haimowitz and Heidi Belleau