are a bore. Suggests the author has no trust in the readerâs intelligence.â Payne clipped the end of the cigar and produced a box of matches. âNever cared much for Restoration comedies, myself. Did you?â
âNo.â
âDonât find Lady Wishfort or Lady Booby in the least comical. Old Dickens was as bad. He had a real weakness for that kind of satirical flag-posting. Mr Murd stoneâ Do-the-boys Hall. Then we have Evelyn Waugh and Miles Malpractice. Not terribly subtle, you are perfectly right. That sort of thing is all right in childrenâs books. I am sure Mr Nasty and Mr Nice keep toddlers chuckling in an amused enough manner.â
âSomething that sounds like Maybrick Manor,â said Antonia thoughtfully. âWhat could it be? Mayhem Manor? Noâthatâs worse. Were they both going to Maybrick Manor?â
âOnly the old boy, or that was the impression Jesty got. âTradescantâ was the name the girl gave to the waiter when she ordered the cab. It would be interesting to know how exactly they are related, if at all. Oh, we also heard her refer to a âmasterââshe said it wouldnât do to keep the master waiting, words to that effect.â
âA master ? â
âCould be a master of hounds. Or a master of a college. Or perhaps some sinister religious order is behind it all?â Payne held up his cigar. âWe may discover that the old boy is a sacrificial victim. He is meant to collapse and expire at the feet of a mysterious masked figure known as âthe Masterâ ⦠Penelope and the Master are of course acting in cahoots â¦â
âWhat if Captain Jesty lied to you? His story of the capsule swap might have been a fabrication.â
âSome kind of malicious joke, you mean? Jestyâs ⦠jest?â
âHe may have decided to live up to his name ⦠Is he good-looking?â
âWhatâs that got to do with anything?â
âMerely curious. Cads are usually good-looking.â
âHe is not in the least good-looking. Heâs got round eyes, brown hair and a silly little moustache. He looks annoyingly smug. Well, he seemed familiar with my penchant for puzzles, so a prank is possible, I supposeâthough that wouldnât explain Penelopeâs guilty expression.â
âDidnât you discuss the incident with any other of your brother officers?â
âNo, of course not. Awful old buffers. They regard the Duke of Edinburgh as a cross between Maynard Keynes, Professor Moriarty and the Messiah. I donât know why I go to these reunions, I really donât. I always feel a little depressed when I come home.â
âYou didnât engage in a single meaningful discussion with anyone?â
âI am afraid not. There are more meaningful discussions taking place in the graveyard at midnight than at any regimental dinner I have ever attended.â He rose. âIâm going to see if I could persuade Google to locate Maybrick Manor for me, or any similar-sounding houses. I also intend to look up âTradescantâ. It is a singular enough name. There canât be that many. Wasnât there a gardening family called Tradescant? There was also a Tradescant baronetcy, I seem to remember.â
âHugh! Do change, please!â Antontia called out after him.
âYou canât sit in front of the computer in your regimental uniform.â
4
The House of the Lurking Death
âI may last another twenty years, Master,â Sir Seymour Tradescant was saying. âOr even twenty-five, if I take care. I am not in bad health. Nothing really wrong with me. Heart, liver, blood pressure, all perfectly tickety-boo. If I strike you as a bit off-colour at the moment, itâs because of this damned abscess thing, so tiresome. My big toe, would you believe it. Thought it was gout at first, thatâs why I didnât have my toe seen to sooner. I