was opened by the grumpy-looking woman who had served tea.
‘Tell Mr Trumpington-James I wish to see him,’ said Agatha grandly.
She clumped off. After a few moments, she returned and said, ‘He’s too busy.’
The door began to close. Charles held out his card. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Raisin. Perhaps he would like to give me a call?’
She squinted down at the card and the legend ‘Sir Charles Fraith’.
Tolly appeared in the hall behind. ‘She gone yet?’ he called.
The surly woman said, ‘She’s got a Sir Charles Fraith with her.’
Tolly surged forward, pushing her aside, an unctuous smile on his face.
‘Glad to see you, Sir Charles,’ he said. ‘Come in. Come for some hunting? You do ride on horseback?’
‘Camel, actually,’ said Charles.
Tolly goggled at him, and then burst out laughing. ‘Joke, eh? That’s a good one. Come through. Mind if I call you Charles?’
He strode off in the direction of the drawing-room. ‘What a twat,’ muttered Charles. ‘Come on, Aggie.’
They went into the drawing-room. ‘Heard you’d had a painting pinched,’ said Charles. ‘Insured, I hope?’
‘Fortunately. But it’s not the money that bothers me. It’s the fact that some cheeky bugger walked into my house as cool as you please and took it off the wall and disappeared with it.’
‘And the burglar alarm was set?’ asked Agatha.
‘Yes,’ said Tolly impatiently, ‘and all the doors and windows were locked.’
‘It was taken from the study, wasn’t it? Can we have a look?’
‘Not now. The police are in there.’
‘What about that woman who answered the door?’
‘Betty Jackson. Yes. But she’s salt of the earth.’
‘I find her a grumpy old bitch,’ said Agatha.
Tolly stared insolently at her. ‘You wouldn’t understand. People like us are used to servants, eh, Charles?’
‘No,’ said Charles. ‘I get women up from the village to clean and when I’ve got a big house party, I get a catering company to cope. Aggie’s quite right, you know. She is a grumpy old bitch.’
Tolly let out a false bray of laughter. Then he said, ‘Plan to stay long? I belong to the local hunt. Got some good hunting around here.’
‘Don’t hunt,’ said Charles.
Tolly eyed him with sudden suspicion. ‘What did you get your knighthood for?’
‘It’s a baronetcy,’ said Charles patiently. ‘In the family for years.’
‘And where’s your place?’
‘Warwickshire. Actually, the reason we called is that Aggie and I have made a pretty good job at solving some mysteries in the past. Thought we might be able to help you.’
‘Very kind of you. I don’t see what you can do that the police can’t.’
The door of the drawing-room opened, and a nondescript man looked in. ‘Could we have a word with you, sir?’
‘Sure.’ He turned to Agatha and Charles. ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Percy Hand. He’s in charge of things. I’ve been talking to a couple of amateur detectives here.’
Hand gave them a bleak smile. ‘If you could come with me, sir.’
‘Right,’ said Tolly. ‘Come again, if you like. Can you see yourselves out?’
‘What a pill,’ marvelled Charles. ‘It’s a wonder it’s not a murder we’re looking at.’
They got in the car. ‘What’s up, Aggie? You’ve got a face like a fiddle.’
‘Why the hell should he think I’m not one of their sort! That’s what he said.’ Agatha looked miserably at her hands.
‘Oh, that. It’s because he’s a vulgar pushy little man, insecure socially and always trying to put someone down. Cheer up. Maybe someone will murder him and then life around here will really get exciting.’
Agatha found she was enjoying Charles’s company. They took a walk in the rain in the late afternoon. The air was full of the smell of grass and plants, although over all hung the redolent scent of the pine trees. They walked down past the little row of shops, farther than Agatha had gone, and turning a corner, found there
‘Tell Mr Trumpington-James I wish to see him,’ said Agatha grandly.
She clumped off. After a few moments, she returned and said, ‘He’s too busy.’
The door began to close. Charles held out his card. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Raisin. Perhaps he would like to give me a call?’
She squinted down at the card and the legend ‘Sir Charles Fraith’.
Tolly appeared in the hall behind. ‘She gone yet?’ he called.
The surly woman said, ‘She’s got a Sir Charles Fraith with her.’
Tolly surged forward, pushing her aside, an unctuous smile on his face.
‘Glad to see you, Sir Charles,’ he said. ‘Come in. Come for some hunting? You do ride on horseback?’
‘Camel, actually,’ said Charles.
Tolly goggled at him, and then burst out laughing. ‘Joke, eh? That’s a good one. Come through. Mind if I call you Charles?’
He strode off in the direction of the drawing-room. ‘What a twat,’ muttered Charles. ‘Come on, Aggie.’
They went into the drawing-room. ‘Heard you’d had a painting pinched,’ said Charles. ‘Insured, I hope?’
‘Fortunately. But it’s not the money that bothers me. It’s the fact that some cheeky bugger walked into my house as cool as you please and took it off the wall and disappeared with it.’
‘And the burglar alarm was set?’ asked Agatha.
‘Yes,’ said Tolly impatiently, ‘and all the doors and windows were locked.’
‘It was taken from the study, wasn’t it? Can we have a look?’
‘Not now. The police are in there.’
‘What about that woman who answered the door?’
‘Betty Jackson. Yes. But she’s salt of the earth.’
‘I find her a grumpy old bitch,’ said Agatha.
Tolly stared insolently at her. ‘You wouldn’t understand. People like us are used to servants, eh, Charles?’
‘No,’ said Charles. ‘I get women up from the village to clean and when I’ve got a big house party, I get a catering company to cope. Aggie’s quite right, you know. She is a grumpy old bitch.’
Tolly let out a false bray of laughter. Then he said, ‘Plan to stay long? I belong to the local hunt. Got some good hunting around here.’
‘Don’t hunt,’ said Charles.
Tolly eyed him with sudden suspicion. ‘What did you get your knighthood for?’
‘It’s a baronetcy,’ said Charles patiently. ‘In the family for years.’
‘And where’s your place?’
‘Warwickshire. Actually, the reason we called is that Aggie and I have made a pretty good job at solving some mysteries in the past. Thought we might be able to help you.’
‘Very kind of you. I don’t see what you can do that the police can’t.’
The door of the drawing-room opened, and a nondescript man looked in. ‘Could we have a word with you, sir?’
‘Sure.’ He turned to Agatha and Charles. ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Percy Hand. He’s in charge of things. I’ve been talking to a couple of amateur detectives here.’
Hand gave them a bleak smile. ‘If you could come with me, sir.’
‘Right,’ said Tolly. ‘Come again, if you like. Can you see yourselves out?’
‘What a pill,’ marvelled Charles. ‘It’s a wonder it’s not a murder we’re looking at.’
They got in the car. ‘What’s up, Aggie? You’ve got a face like a fiddle.’
‘Why the hell should he think I’m not one of their sort! That’s what he said.’ Agatha looked miserably at her hands.
‘Oh, that. It’s because he’s a vulgar pushy little man, insecure socially and always trying to put someone down. Cheer up. Maybe someone will murder him and then life around here will really get exciting.’
Agatha found she was enjoying Charles’s company. They took a walk in the rain in the late afternoon. The air was full of the smell of grass and plants, although over all hung the redolent scent of the pine trees. They walked down past the little row of shops, farther than Agatha had gone, and turning a corner, found there
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