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Authors: Michael Innes
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somebody is indeed at supper in the dining-room at this moment, he is much more likely to be the genuine Adrian Snodgrass than a pretender?’
‘Oh, dear me, yes! I merely claim that there must be some substantial possibility of vexatious foolery, or of deception. Beddoes, I hope you are not upset by these cautions and suspicions of mine?’
The Professor, it seemed to Appleby, was less upset than bewildered. He had stood up to Absolon stoutly enough, but – if only obscurely – his confidence could be felt as flickering. Or was it rather that the vicar’s unexpected onslaught had caused him to lose command of a role, so that he was searching round to recover it? Flushed, whether with indignation or alarm, he made only an unsuccessful attempt at utterance. Before he could try again, the library door had opened as library doors can only open under the hand of a trained manservant. The figure revealed was heavily bearded, and he was not dressed as butlers are dressed in the advertisements. Nevertheless Appleby was instantly assured that this stiff and ponderous figure was Leonidas, who had been received into the service of an eminent retired military historian on account of his name’s recalling the hero of Thermopylae.
If Leonidas was surprised to find that his employer had company, nothing of it showed on features which were at once professionally impassive and so unprofessionally hirsute. If his glance did pause on Appleby, it was for no longer than was wholly decorous. And then he addressed Professor Snodgrass with an impassive formality.
‘Mr Snodgrass is in residence, sir,’ Leonidas said.
6
The first reaction to Leonidas’ announcement came, oddly enough, from the Reverend Doctor Absolon, so comfortably relaxed over his port and his cigar. It took the form, indeed, of no more than a flicker of the eyebrows, directed at Appleby. For a moment Appleby supposed that what was being suggested was merely a sense of mild amusement at a form of words which might have been deemed more appropriate to the movements of a duke or marquess than of one so addicted as Adrian Snodgrass appeared to be to the role of a very private gentleman. But then Appleby divined that it was something quite different that Absolon wanted to convey. Leonidas, he was indicating, had taken the identity of the new arrival for granted. Adrian Snodgrass was totally unknown to him, so here might be, as it were, the Tichborne Claimant in person. And the Claimant had won his first small round. A preliminary assumption was established. Professor Snodgrass had only to behave in as dotty a fashion as he appeared abundantly capable of, and the fellow might get away with goodness knew what.
But Absolon was very tolerably dotty himself. Beneficed clergymen of the Church of England ought not to drift around scattering bizarre suspicions among their parishioners. And the suspicion was, of course, fantastic. Something quite sufficiently surprising had happened. Adrian Snodgrass was indeed in residence.
‘Quite so,’ the Professor was saying. ‘Precisely so, Leonidas. My guest and I heard Mr Snodgrass arrive. You have presented yourself?’
‘Yes, sir. I came over to the Park at the time you directed, and very shortly afterwards Mr Snodgrass rang the dining-room bell. I found him at table, sir. I uncorked the champagne.’
‘Excellent! And he appears to be in good spirits?’
‘Decidedly, sir. Most affable, he was. A jocose gentleman, if the word may be permitted me. I followed your instructions, explained that I was in your service at the Old Dower House, and that you had said I was to venture to wait upon him. He asked at once if I would consider being employed by himself at what he termed a stiffer screw. I took this as evidence of a facetious disposition. He then told me to put a second bottle of champagne on the ice.’
‘The devil he did!’ It was Dr Absolon who uttered this unclerical ejaculation. ‘Well, well!’
‘The which
‘Oh, dear me, yes! I merely claim that there must be some substantial possibility of vexatious foolery, or of deception. Beddoes, I hope you are not upset by these cautions and suspicions of mine?’
The Professor, it seemed to Appleby, was less upset than bewildered. He had stood up to Absolon stoutly enough, but – if only obscurely – his confidence could be felt as flickering. Or was it rather that the vicar’s unexpected onslaught had caused him to lose command of a role, so that he was searching round to recover it? Flushed, whether with indignation or alarm, he made only an unsuccessful attempt at utterance. Before he could try again, the library door had opened as library doors can only open under the hand of a trained manservant. The figure revealed was heavily bearded, and he was not dressed as butlers are dressed in the advertisements. Nevertheless Appleby was instantly assured that this stiff and ponderous figure was Leonidas, who had been received into the service of an eminent retired military historian on account of his name’s recalling the hero of Thermopylae.
If Leonidas was surprised to find that his employer had company, nothing of it showed on features which were at once professionally impassive and so unprofessionally hirsute. If his glance did pause on Appleby, it was for no longer than was wholly decorous. And then he addressed Professor Snodgrass with an impassive formality.
‘Mr Snodgrass is in residence, sir,’ Leonidas said.
6
The first reaction to Leonidas’ announcement came, oddly enough, from the Reverend Doctor Absolon, so comfortably relaxed over his port and his cigar. It took the form, indeed, of no more than a flicker of the eyebrows, directed at Appleby. For a moment Appleby supposed that what was being suggested was merely a sense of mild amusement at a form of words which might have been deemed more appropriate to the movements of a duke or marquess than of one so addicted as Adrian Snodgrass appeared to be to the role of a very private gentleman. But then Appleby divined that it was something quite different that Absolon wanted to convey. Leonidas, he was indicating, had taken the identity of the new arrival for granted. Adrian Snodgrass was totally unknown to him, so here might be, as it were, the Tichborne Claimant in person. And the Claimant had won his first small round. A preliminary assumption was established. Professor Snodgrass had only to behave in as dotty a fashion as he appeared abundantly capable of, and the fellow might get away with goodness knew what.
But Absolon was very tolerably dotty himself. Beneficed clergymen of the Church of England ought not to drift around scattering bizarre suspicions among their parishioners. And the suspicion was, of course, fantastic. Something quite sufficiently surprising had happened. Adrian Snodgrass was indeed in residence.
‘Quite so,’ the Professor was saying. ‘Precisely so, Leonidas. My guest and I heard Mr Snodgrass arrive. You have presented yourself?’
‘Yes, sir. I came over to the Park at the time you directed, and very shortly afterwards Mr Snodgrass rang the dining-room bell. I found him at table, sir. I uncorked the champagne.’
‘Excellent! And he appears to be in good spirits?’
‘Decidedly, sir. Most affable, he was. A jocose gentleman, if the word may be permitted me. I followed your instructions, explained that I was in your service at the Old Dower House, and that you had said I was to venture to wait upon him. He asked at once if I would consider being employed by himself at what he termed a stiffer screw. I took this as evidence of a facetious disposition. He then told me to put a second bottle of champagne on the ice.’
‘The devil he did!’ It was Dr Absolon who uttered this unclerical ejaculation. ‘Well, well!’
‘The which
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