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24, Museum 113, and Mayfair 5800. After a decent interval I began again.
    “Kennington Road Police Station,” said a voice.
    “Kennington or Kennington Road?” said I.
    “Kennington Road. There ain’t no Kennington.”
    “Ain’t – I mean, aren’t there? I always thought… Never mind. How are the police?”
    “I say this is Kennington Road Police Station,” replied the voice with some heat.
    “I know you did. I heard you. Just now. If you remember, I asked you if it was Kennington or Kennington Road, and you said—”
    “’Oo are you?”
    To avoid any unpleasantness I replaced my receiver.
    Two minutes later, after an agreeable conversation with “Supervisor,” I arranged to purchase five tickets for the Gold and Silver Ball.
     
    “This,” said the salesman, spreading a rug upon the top of a fast-growing pile, “is a Shiraz.”
    “I suppose,” said Berry, “you haven’t got a Badgerabahd?”
    “I never came across one, sir.”
    “They are rare,” was the airy reply. “The best ones used to be made in Germany and sent to Egypt. By the time the camels had finished with them, they’d fetch anything from a millionaire to a foxhound.”
    This was too much for Jill’s gravity, and it was only with an effort that Daphne controlled her voice.
    “I think that’s very nice,” she said shakily. “Don’t you?” she added, turning to me.
    “Beautiful piece of work,” I agreed. “Some of it appears to have been done after dinner, but otherwise…”
    “The pattern is invariably a little irregular, sir.”
    “Yes,” said Berry. “That’s what makes them so valuable. Their lives are reflected in their rugs. Every mat is a human document.” With the ferrule of his umbrella he indicated a soft blue line that was straying casually from the course which its fellows had taken. “That, for instance, is where Ethel the Unready demanded a latchkey at the mature age of sixty-two. And here we see Uncle Sennacherib fined two measures of oil for being speechless before mid-day. I don’t think we’d better give her this one,” he added. “Shebat the Satyr seems to have got going about the middle, and from what I remember—”
    “Haven’t you got to go and get some socks?” said Daphne desperately.
    “I have. Will you meet me for lunch, or shall I meet you? I believe they do you very well at the Zoo.”
    The salesman retired precipitately into an office, and my sister besought me tearfully to take her husband away.
    “I might have known,” she said in a choking voice. “I was a fool to bring him.”
    “Let’s play at bears,” said her husband. “It’s a priceless game. Everyone gets under a different rug and growls.”
    Resignedly Daphne retired to the sofa. Jill sank down upon the pile of rugs and shook silently. Observing that we were unattended, another salesman was hurrying in our direction. Before he could launch the inevitable question—
    “I want a dog licence and some magic lanterns,” said Berry. “You know. The ones that get all hot and smell.”
    There was a shriek of laughter from Jill, and the unfortunate assistant looked round wildly, as if for support.
    Clearly something had to be done.
    I stepped forward and slid my arm through that of the delinquent.
    “Enough,” said I. “Come and devil the hosier. If you’re not quick all the socks will be gone.”
    My brother-in-law eyed me suspiciously.
    “And leave my baggage?” he demanded, pointing to Daphne. “Never. This is a ruse. Where is the manager of the emporium? I dreamed about him last night. He had brown boots on.”
    I consulted my watch before replying.
    “By the time we get to the Club, Martinis will be in season.”
    “Do you mean that?” said Berry.
    “I do.”
    “And a small but pungent cigar?”
    I nodded.
    He turned to the bewildered salesman.
    “Please attend to these ladies. They want to choose an expensive-looking rug. Preferably a Shiraz. No doubt they will be safe in your hands. Good