unlikely to stand him the cost of a little tour in Italy on the strength of this nebulous hypothesis. Charles was coming to suspect Dr Sutch of being a humbug. He didn’t know what kind of humbug, but of the general idea he was pretty confident. How had Archie come by the chap? It was a point on which Archie had remained suspiciously vague. Was Sutch what might be called a creature of Archie’s? Or was he fooling Archie, or at least planning to do so?
These dark thoughts came to Charles partly because he sensed that Dr Sutch, for all his grave and deferential manner, was having dark thoughts about him . He had made no move to show Charles how he was actually going to work in the muniment room. It had been an unsatisfactory interview, and Charles resolved to put an end to it.
He moved to the door giving on to the little wooden platform in which the external staircase terminated. Although he had no particular fear of heights, he realized that he would be taking a firm grip of himself as he emerged and began the descent to the castle’s inner ward. Only the sea lay at a crazy depth below. Or at least one could see only the sea; actually there was a narrow band of tumbled rock rounding the promontory on which Treskinnick lay, and along this one could make one’s way at low tide. But to glimpse this from above one would have to lean out over the staircase’s handrail in a manner scarcely short of the suicidal.
‘It’s really a dreadful place!’ he exclaimed impulsively. ‘I’m surprised, Dr Sutch, that you put up with it. Just a little sweat – and possibly the loss of one or two menial lives – could get the stuff down for you to ground level. And there’s no end of room for it in the rat-ridden pile.’
This had been a nervous and disagreeable speech – as Charles Digitt knew even as he uttered it. But Dr Sutch, who was holding open for him a door which might have given access only to vacancy, received it impassively.
‘The present muniment room,’ he said, ‘although chargeable as being a shade eccentric, undoubtedly has its convenience. It affords seclusion for unintermitted work. I have very few vexatious interruptions while up here.’
At this, Charles took a civil leave of Dr Sutch and began his descent. He was enough of a Digitt to tell himself that he had just been made the recipient of a piece of damned impertinence.
7
It was on the following day, Tuesday, that Dr Sutch sought an interview with his employer – or with his secondary employer, as the matter should perhaps be expressed, bearing in mind his primary obligation to the Royal House of Windsor. It was not altogether easy to achieve, since Lord Ampersand had by this time come to regard his learned hireling as an unmitigated pest. Lord Ampersand, in whom a certain infirmity of purpose was sometimes to be remarked, was on the verge of abandoning the notion that there was money in Sutch – or in Sutch’s burrowings in the North Tower. He reminded himself that Skillet had on the whole remained thoroughly sceptical about the entire project. And that Skillet was a smart chap was a fact that sundry small family episodes, some of them not of the most edifying sort, had borne in on him from time to time. Once or twice he even meditated giving Sutch what he would have termed a week’s wages in lieu of notice, and bundling him out of the castle. But Lady Ampersand had discouraged him in this drastic proposal, pointing out that such an admission of fiasco might lead to ridicule on the part of her husband’s friends and neighbours. At this, Lord Ampersand, a sensitive man, had growled that he’d give the fellow his head, and pay for his oats and hay at the Ampersand Arms, for a further month. After that, they’d see.
The situation was the more annoying in that Sutch had come to conceive himself as enjoying the freedom not only of the North Tower but also of the castle as a whole. He prowled around the place in an irritating way. On several
These dark thoughts came to Charles partly because he sensed that Dr Sutch, for all his grave and deferential manner, was having dark thoughts about him . He had made no move to show Charles how he was actually going to work in the muniment room. It had been an unsatisfactory interview, and Charles resolved to put an end to it.
He moved to the door giving on to the little wooden platform in which the external staircase terminated. Although he had no particular fear of heights, he realized that he would be taking a firm grip of himself as he emerged and began the descent to the castle’s inner ward. Only the sea lay at a crazy depth below. Or at least one could see only the sea; actually there was a narrow band of tumbled rock rounding the promontory on which Treskinnick lay, and along this one could make one’s way at low tide. But to glimpse this from above one would have to lean out over the staircase’s handrail in a manner scarcely short of the suicidal.
‘It’s really a dreadful place!’ he exclaimed impulsively. ‘I’m surprised, Dr Sutch, that you put up with it. Just a little sweat – and possibly the loss of one or two menial lives – could get the stuff down for you to ground level. And there’s no end of room for it in the rat-ridden pile.’
This had been a nervous and disagreeable speech – as Charles Digitt knew even as he uttered it. But Dr Sutch, who was holding open for him a door which might have given access only to vacancy, received it impassively.
‘The present muniment room,’ he said, ‘although chargeable as being a shade eccentric, undoubtedly has its convenience. It affords seclusion for unintermitted work. I have very few vexatious interruptions while up here.’
At this, Charles took a civil leave of Dr Sutch and began his descent. He was enough of a Digitt to tell himself that he had just been made the recipient of a piece of damned impertinence.
7
It was on the following day, Tuesday, that Dr Sutch sought an interview with his employer – or with his secondary employer, as the matter should perhaps be expressed, bearing in mind his primary obligation to the Royal House of Windsor. It was not altogether easy to achieve, since Lord Ampersand had by this time come to regard his learned hireling as an unmitigated pest. Lord Ampersand, in whom a certain infirmity of purpose was sometimes to be remarked, was on the verge of abandoning the notion that there was money in Sutch – or in Sutch’s burrowings in the North Tower. He reminded himself that Skillet had on the whole remained thoroughly sceptical about the entire project. And that Skillet was a smart chap was a fact that sundry small family episodes, some of them not of the most edifying sort, had borne in on him from time to time. Once or twice he even meditated giving Sutch what he would have termed a week’s wages in lieu of notice, and bundling him out of the castle. But Lady Ampersand had discouraged him in this drastic proposal, pointing out that such an admission of fiasco might lead to ridicule on the part of her husband’s friends and neighbours. At this, Lord Ampersand, a sensitive man, had growled that he’d give the fellow his head, and pay for his oats and hay at the Ampersand Arms, for a further month. After that, they’d see.
The situation was the more annoying in that Sutch had come to conceive himself as enjoying the freedom not only of the North Tower but also of the castle as a whole. He prowled around the place in an irritating way. On several
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