'I've nothing to be ashamed of, said Sir Humphrey. 'I've gone farther than most people. I suppose that, if I keep on, I may one day lead the party. But all this winter I've been feeling that I've got as far as I shall ever get. I've got to the time when I should like to go into the other House and give up work and perhaps keep a racehorse or two' ‑ and his eyes took on the far‑away look of a popular actress describing the cottage of her dreams ‑ 'and a yacht and a villa at Monte. The others can do that when they like, and they know it. It's not till you get to my age that you really feel the disadvantage of having been born poor.

  On Sunday evening Sir Humphrey suggested a 'hand of cards'. The idea was received without enthusiasm.

  'Wouldn't that be rather fast? said Miles. 'It is Sunday. I think cards are divine, particularly the kings. Such naughty old faces! But if I start playing for money, I always lose my temper and cry. Ask Pamela; she's so brave and manly.

  'Let's all play billiards and make a Real House Party of it, said David, 'or shall we have a Country House Rag?

  'Oh I to feel such a rip, said Miles when he was at last persuaded to play. Sir Humphrey won. Parakeet lost thirty pounds, and opening his pocket book, paid him in ten‑pound notes.

  'How he did cheat! said Olivia on the way to bed.

  'Did he, darling? Well, let's jolly well not pay him, said Miles.

  'It never occurred to me to do such a thing. Why, I couldn't afford to possibly.

  Peter tossed Sir Humphrey double or quits, and won.

  'After all, I am host, he explained.

  'When I was your age, said Sir Humphrey to Miles, 'we used to sit up all night sometimes playing poker. Heavy money, too.

  'Oh, you wicked old thing! said Miles.

  Early on Monday morning the Minister of Transportation's Daimler disappeared down the drive. 'I rather think he expected to see mamma, said Peter. 'I told him what was the matter with her.

  'You shouldn't have done that, said Paul.

  'No, it didn't go down awfully well. He said that he didn't know what things were coming to and that even in the slums such things were not spoken about by children of my age. What a lot he ate! I did my best to make him feel at home, too, by talking about trains.

  'I thought he was a very sensible old man, said Professor Silenus. 'He was the only person who didn't think it necessary to say something polite about the house. Besides, he told me about a new method of concrete construction they're trying at one of the Govermnent Superannuation Homes.

  Peter and Paul went back to their cylindrical study and began another spelling‑lesson.

  * * *

  As the last of the guests departed Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde reappeared from her little bout of veronal, fresh and exquisite as a seventeenth‑century lyric. The meadow of green glass seemed to burst into flower under her feet as she passed from the lift to the cocktail table.

  'You poor angels! she said. 'Did you have the hell of a time with Maltravers? And all those people? I quite forget who asked to come this week‑end. I gave up inviting people long ago, she said, turning to Paul, 'but it didn't make a bit of difference. She gazed into the opalescent depths of her absinthe frappé. 'More and more I feel the need of a husband, but Peter is horribly fastidious.

  'Well, your men are all so awfill, said Peter.

  'I sometimes think of marrying old Maltravers, said Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde, 'just to get my own back, only "Margot Maltravers" does sound a little too much, don't you think? And if they give him a peerage, he's bound to choose something quite awful….

  In the whole of Paul's life no one had ever been quite so sweet to him as Margot Beste‑Chetwynde was during the next few days. Up and down the shining lift shafts, in and out of the rooms, and along the labyrinthine corridors of the great house he moved in a golden mist. Each morning as he dressed a bird seemed to be singing in his heart, and as he lay down to sleep he would pillow his head against a hand about which still hung a delicate fragrance of Margot Beste‑Chetwynde's almost unprocurable scent.

  'Paul, dear, she said one day as hand in hand, after a rather fearful encounter with a swan, they reached the shelter of the lake house, 'I can't bear to think of you going back to that awful school. Do, please, write and tell Dr Fagan that you won't.

  The lake house was an eighteenth‑century pavilion, built on a little mound above the water. They stood there for a full minute still hand in hand on the crumbling steps.

  'I don't quite see what else I could do, said Paul.

  'Darling, I could find you a job.

  'What sort of job, Margot? Paul's eyes followed the swan gliding serenely across the lake; he did not dare to look at her.

  'Well, Paul, you might stay and protect me from swans, mightn't you? Margot paused and then, releasing her hand, took a cigarette case from her pocket. Paul struck a match. 'My dear, what an unsteady hand! I'm afraid you're drinking too many of Peter's cocktails. That child has a lot to learn yet about the use of vodka. But seriously I'm sure I can find you a better job. It's absurd your going back to Wales. I still manage a great deal of my father's business, you know, or perhaps you didn't. It was mostly in South America in ‑ in places of entertainment, cabarets and hotels and theatres, you know, and things like that. I'm sure I could find you a job helping in that, if you think you'd like it.

  Paul thought of this gravely. 'Oughtn't I to know Spanish? he said. It seemed quite a sensible question, but Margot threw away her cigarette with a little laugh and said: 'It's time to go and change. You are being difficult this evening, aren't you?

  Paul thought about this conversation as he lay in his bath ‑ a sunk bath of malachite ‑ and all the time while he dressed and as he tied his tie he trembled from head to foot like one of the wire toys which street vendors dangle from trays.

  At dinner Margot talked about matters of daily interest, about some jewels she was having reset, and how they had come back all wrong; and how all the wiring of her London house was being overhauled because of the fear of fire; and how the man she had left in charge of her villa at Cannes had made a fortune at the Casino and given her notice, and she was afraid she might have to go out there to arrange about it; and how the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings was demanding a guarantee that she would not demolish her castle in Ireland; and how her cook seemed to be going off his head that night, the dinner was so dull; and how Bobby Pastmaster was trying to borrow money from her again, on the grounds that she had misled him when she bought his house and that if he had known she was going to pull it down he would have made her pay more. 'Which is not logical of Bobby, she said. 'The less I valued this house, the less I ought to have paid, surely? Still, I'd better send him something, otherwise he'll go and marry, and I think it may be nice for Peter to have the title when he grows up.

  Later, when they were alone, she said: 'People talk a great deal of nonsense about being rich. Of course it is a bore in some ways, and it means endless work, but I wouldn't be poor, or even moderately well‑off, for all the ease in the world. Would you be happy if you were rich, do you think?

  'Well, it depends how I got the money, said PauL

  'I don't see how that comes in.

  'No, I don't quite mean that. What I mean is that I think there's only one thing that could make me really happy, and if I got that I should be rich too, but it wouldn't matter being rich, you see, because, however rich I was, and I hadn't got what would make me happy, I shouldn't be happy, you see.

  'My precious, that's rather obscure, said Margot, 'but I think it may mean something rather sweet. He looked up at her, and her eyes met his unfalteringly. 'If it does, I'm glad, she added.

  'Margot, darling, beloved, please, will you marry me? Paul was on his knees by her chair, his hands on hers.

  'Well, that's rather what I've been wanting to discuss with you all day. But surely there was a tremor in her voice?

  'Does that mean that possibly you might, Margot? Is there a chance that you will?

  'I don't see why not. Of course we must ask Peter about it, and there are other things we ought to discuss first, and then, quite suddenly, 'Paul, dear, dear creature, come here.

  * * *

  They found Peter in the dining‑room eating a peach at the sideboard.

  'Hullo, you two! he said.

  'Peter, we've something to tell you, said Margot. 'Paul says he wants me to marry him.

  'Splendid! said Peter. 'I am glad. Is that what you've been doing in the library?

  'Then you don't mind? said Paul.

  'Mind? It's what I've been trying to arrange all this week. As a matter of fact, that's why I brought you here at all. I think it's altogether admirable, he said, taking another peach.

  'You're the first man he's said that about, Paul. I think it's rather a good omen.

  'Oh, Margot, let's get married at once.

  'My dear, I haven't said that I'm going to yet. I'll tell you in the morning.

  'No, tell me now, Margot. You do like me a little, don't you? Please marry me just terribly soon.

  'I'll tell you in the morning. There're several things I must think about first. Let's go back to the library.

  * * *

  That night Paul found it unusually diflicult to sleep. Long after he had shut his book and turned out the light he lay awake, his eyes open, his thoughts racing uncontrollably. As in the first night of his visit, he felt the sleepless, involved genius of the house heavy about his head. He and Margot and Peter and Sir Humphrey Maltravers were just insignificant incidents in the life of the house: this new‑born monster to whose birth ageless and forgotten cultures had been in travail. For half an hour he lay looking into the darkness until gradually his thoughts began to separate themselves from himself, and he knew he was falling asleep. Suddenly he was roused to consciousness by the sound of his door opening gently. He could see nothing, but he heard the rustle of silk as someone came into the room. Then the door shut again.

  'Paul, are you asleep?

  'Margot!

  'Hush, dear! Don't turn on the light. Where are you? The silk rustled again as though falling to the ground. 'It's best to make sure, isn't it, darling, before we decide anything? It may be just an idea of yours that you're in love with me. And, you see, Paul, I like you so very much, it would be a pity to make a mistake, wouldn't it?

  But happily there was no mistake, and next day Paul and Margot announced their engagement.

  CHAPTER IV Resurrection

  Crossing the hall one afternoon a few days later, Paul met a short man with a long red beard stumping along behind the footman towards Margot's study.

  'Good Lord! he said.

  'Not a word, old boy! said the bearded man as he passed on.

  A few minutes later Paul was joined by Peter. 'I say, Paul, he said, 'who do you think's talking to Mamma?

  'I know, said Paul. 'It's a very curious thing.

  'I somehow never felt he was dead, said Peter. 'I told Clutterbuck that to try and cheer him up.

  'Did it?

  'Not very much, Peter admitted. 'My argument was that if he'd really gone out to sea he would have left his wooden leg behind with his clothes, but Clutterbuck said he was very sensitive about his leg. I wonder what he's come to see Mamma about?

  A little later they ambushed him in the drive, and Grimes told them. 'Forgive the beaver, he said, 'but it's rather important at the moment.

  'In the soup again? asked Paul.

  'Well, not exactly, but things have been rather low lately. The police are after me. That suicide didn't go down well. I was afraid it wouldn't. They began to fuss a bit about nobody being found and about my game leg. And then my other wife turned up, and that set them thinking. Hence the vegetation. Clever of you two to spot me.

  They led him back to the house, and Peter mixed him a formidable cocktail, the principal ingredients of which were absinthe and vodka.

  'It's the old story, said Grimes. 'Grimes has fallen on his feet again. By the way, old boy, I have to congratulate you, haven't I? You've done pretty well for yourself, too. His eye travelled appreciatively over the glass floor, and the pneumatic rubber furniture, and the porcelain ceiling, and the leather‑hung walls. 'It's not everyone's taste, he said, 'but I think you'll be comfortable. Funny thing, I never expected to see you when I came down here.

  'What we want to know, said Peter, 'is what brought you down to see Mamma at all.

  'Just good fortune, said Grimes. 'It was like this. After I left Llanabba I was rather at a loose end. I'd borrowed a fiver from Philbrick just before he left, and that got me to London, but for a week or so things were rather thin. I was sitting in a pub one day in Shaftesbury Avenue, feeling my beard rather warm and knowing I only had about five bob left in the world, when I noticed a chap staring at me pretty hard in the other corner of the bar. He came over after a bit and said: "Captain Grimes, I think?" That rather put the wind up me. "No, no, old boy," I said, "quite wrong, rotten shot. Poor old Grimes is dead, drowned. Davy Jones' locker, old boy!" And I made to leave. Of course it wasn't a very sensible thing to say, because, if I hadn't been Grimes, it was a hundred to one against my knowing Grimes was dead, if you see what I mean. "Pity," he said, "because I heard old Grimes was down on his luck, and I had a job I thought might suit him. Have a drink, anyway." Then I realized who he was. He was an awful stout fellow called Bill, who'd been quartered with me in Ireland. "Bill," I said, "I thought you were a bobby." "That's all right, old boy," said Bill. Well, it appeared that this Bill had gone off to the Argentine after the war and had got taken on as manager of a… ‑ Grimes stopped as though suddenly reminded of something ‑ 'a place of entertainment. Sort of night club, you know. Well, he'd done rather well in that job, and had been put in charge of a whole chain of places of entertainment all along the coast. They're a syndicate owned in England. He'd come back on leave to look for a couple of chaps to go out with him and help. "The Dagos are no use at the job," he said, "not dispassionate enough." Had to be chaps who could control themselves where women were concerned. That's what made him think of me. But it was a pure act of God, our meeting.

  'Well, apparently the syndicate was first founded by young Beste‑Chetwynde's grandpapa, and Mrs Beste-Chetwynde still takes an interest in it, so I was sent down to interview her and see if she agreed to the appointment. It never occurred to me it was the same Mrs Beste-Chetwynde who came down to the sports the day Prendy got so tight. Only shows how small the world is, doesn't it?

  'Did Mamma give you the job? asked Peter.

  'She did, and fifty pounds advance on my wages, and some jolly sound advice. It's been a good day for Grimes. Heard from the old man lately, by the way?

  'Yes, said Paul, 'I got a letter this morning, and he showed it to Grimes:

  Llanabba Castle,

  North Wales.

  My dear Pennyfeather,

  Thank you for your letter and the enclosed cheque! I need hardly tell you that it is a real disappointment to me to hear that you are not returning to us next term. I had looked forward to a long and mutually profitable connexion. However my daughters and I join in wishing you every happiness in your married life. I hope you will use your new influence to keep Peter at the school. He is a boy for whom I have great hopes. I look to him as one of my prefects in the future.

  The holidays so far have afforded me little rest. My daughters and I have been much worried by the insistence of a young Irish woman of most disagreeable appearance and bearing who claims to be the widow of poor Captain Grimes. She has got hold of some papers which seem to support her claim. The police, too, are continually here asking impertinent questions about the number of suits of clothes my unfortunate son‑in‑law possessed.

  Besides this, I have had a letter from Mr Prendergast stating that he too wishes to resign his post. Apparently he has been reading a series of articles by a popular bishop and has discovered that there is a species of person called a 'Modern Churchman' who draws the full salary of a beneficed clergyman and need not commit himself to any religious belief. This seems to be a comfort to him, but it adds to my own inconvenience.

  Indeed, I hardly think that I have the heart to keep on at Llanabba. I have had an offer from a cinema company, the managing director of which, oddly enough, is called Sir Solomon Philbrick, who wish to buy the Castle. They say that its combination of medieval and Georgian architecture is a unique advantage. My daughter Diana is anxious to start a nursing‑home or an hotel. So you see that things are not easy.

  Yours sincerely,

  Augustus Fagan.

  There was another surprise in store for Paul that day. Hardly had Grimes left the house when a tall young man with a black hat and thoughtful eyes presented himself at the front door and asked for Mr Pennyfeather. It was Potts.

  'My dear fellow, said Paul, 'I am glad to see you.

  'I saw your engagement in The Times, said Potts, 'and as I was in the neighbourhood, I wondered if you'd let me see the house.

  Paul and Peter led him all over it and explained its intricacies. He admired the luminous ceiling in Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde's study and the indiarubber fungi in the recessed conservatory and the little drawing‑room, of which the floor was a large kaleidoscope, set in motion by an electric button. They took him up in the lift to the top of the great pyramidal tower, from which he could look down on the roofs and domes of glass and aluminium which glittered like Chanel diamonds in the afternoon sun. But it was not this that he had come to see. As soon as he and Paul were alone he said, as though casually: 'Who was that little man I met coming down the drive?

  'I think he was something to do with the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings, said Paul. 'Why?

  'Are you sure? asked Potts in evident disappointment 'How maddening! I've been on a false scent again.

  'Are you doing Divorce Court shadowings, Potts?

  'No, no, it's all to do with the League of Nations, said Potts vaguely, and he called attention to the tank of octopuses which was so prominent a feature of the room in which they were standing.