'I'd be happy to wait there.'
'Not so fast.' He went over to the wall, pressed an old-fashioned bell. 'The housekeeper, Mrs Belloc, can provide you with tea and cakes. Indian, Darjeeling, Earl Grey? And I'd better warn you Mrs Belloc is an odd character. Goes around with a black shawl over her head. A hard worker but it's difficult keeping local servants. They don't like her. Ah, here she is.'
Paula had a shock. When the door opened a short powerfully built woman walked slowly in. The black shawl was worn so it concealed most of her features, exposing only gimlet eyes and a nose like a parrot's. A black dress reached almost to her ankles. There was something sinister about her.
'You wanted me, sir?' she asked, addressing her employer.
Strangeways gave her instructions to serve Paula tea in the library. Mrs Belloc was staring at Tweed while she listened. Then she withdrew without a word.
Rupert opened the door again, bowed in an exaggerated way. He was smiling sardonically. Without a backward glance at the two men in the room, he closed the door and caught up with Paula.
'You don't want to waste your time in the library. Let's go riding. I can give you a gentle nag.'
'I want to see the library. And Mrs Belloc is bringing me tea.'
'Never read a book in my life,' he replied jauntily, following her as she opened the door on her left.
'Might do you good if you did read a few.'
'I seem to get by without them.'
She was already inside a large room, the walls lined with bookcases. A wheeled ladder was attached to one wall so the high shelves could be reached easily. Nondescript coffee tables were scattered round the room near large leather couches which looked as though they'd been there for generations. The room was chilly. She pulled out a book on Alexander the Great and perched at the end of a couch. Rupert joined her.
'You'll end up with that old horror, Mrs Belloc, for company. I'm much more fun.'
'I'm sure you are.'
'Please yourself, then,' he said acidly. 'Bury your nose in a crummy book. You don't know what you're missing. We could shoot a few birds instead of riding.'
'That idea doesn't appeal to me.'
'Playing hard to get.' He stood up. 'Have it your own way.'
It was a relief to Paula when he left the room, closing the door behind him. Something caught her eye. She looked at a side window, jumped up, ran into the mullioned bay. Outside was Harry Butler, one finger to his lips. Behind him a trim lawn stretched away to a hedge and beyond it was a field. Wrestling with the old security catch, she pushed open a casement window.
'What on earth are you doing out there?'
'Prowling. And keeping an eye on Tweed. Newman's orders. Got over the side wall with a telescopic ladder he carries in the boot of his car.'
'Get out of sight! Quick! The housekeeper is bringing me tea…'
'I'll have a cuppa,' said Butler and was gone.
She was struggling to close the window, had just managed it, when she heard a sound. She hadn't heard the door open but now she heard the sound she had heard when Mrs Belloc entered the other room earlier. The rustle of the stiff black material she wore as a dress. Paula froze.
'Wouldn't have anything to do with him if I were you,' a harsh voice advised.
For a tense moment she thought the housekeeper was referring to Butler. Then, in the field beyond the hedge, she saw Rupert riding a large stallion. He reined in his mount suddenly. It bucked, reared into the air. Rupert stayed in the saddle, waved his whip at her as his steed's forelegs dropped to the ground.
'Showing off, as usual,' Mrs Belloc complained.
Paula turned round and the squat hooded woman was laying on a table a sparkling silver tray containing the tea. The tray looked genuine and Paula guessed it was an heirloom. It was difficult to imagine Strangeways bothering to purchase the tray.
'Milk and sugar in your tea?'
'Just milk, please. This is very kind of you. And the cakes look scrumptious.'
Mrs Belloc showed no inclination to leave as Paula sat down.
She had closed the door when she came into the library and now she stood close to Paula as she perched on the couch and sampled the tea. Her large, ugly hands were clasped across her middle, her penetrating eyes fixed on Paula.
'This tea is perfect,' said Paula. 'Thank you.'
'Rupert goes to the Continent a lot. Takes one of his fancy ladies with him. He's had a harem of floozies. No, that's not quite right. They're a snooty type, well educated, with not a hint of a brain.'
'Really?'
'He likes the casinos over there. Gambles heavily. Must cost him a packet.'
'I expect he can afford it.'
'Don't know he can. When his mother died she left him some kind of regular allowance. Wouldn't have thought it ran to the sort of life he lives.'
'I see.'
Paula ate one of the cakes. She was being careful not to say much. She didn't like gossip. Above all she didn't want to say anything which might be repeated to Rupert's father.
'He likes shooting. Pheasants. Boasts about it. He's always saying one bullet, one bird. I'd better leave you now. I'm going up to the turret.'
'What's up there?'
'Gives me a good view of what Rupert is up to. You mind my words. Give Rupert a clear berth.'
On this note she ambled slowly to the door, left the library, closing the door behind her. Paula selected another cake. As she consumed it her mind whirled with thoughts. She was also wondering how Tweed was getting on with his host.
'How about a double Scotch?' Strangeways had suggested as soon as they were alone.
'No, thank you. I'm driving.'
He watched Strangeways walk briskly to a cabinet against a wall. Taking out a glass and a bottle of expensive whisky, his host poured a generous drink. As the bottle touched the rim of the glass it rattled. He drank half the contents, returned to the table, sat facing Tweed.
'That's better. I needed it.'
'You're worried about something?'
'Tweed, you know I've spent a long time in the States. By now I know America. I know a lot of the top people. I know the way they're thinking. Incidentally, I'm having dinner with Jefferson Morgenstern in town this evening.'
'Is he worried?'
'I think so. Look at it from their point of view. Globally. They feel encircled. Across the Pacific they have China facing them. That's a distance, but not in these days of inter-continental ballistic missiles. They think the Russians are going to ally themselves with the Chinese.
That's looking west from where they sit. Now take Europe and the Middle East. Iran, to mention only one Muslim state, is building a nuclear arsenal. If it combined with Turkey – which could soon become a Muslim state again – they might over-run Europe. Turkey, as you know, is close to having 'a population of a hundred and fifty million. Bigger than any nation in Western Europe.'
'Iran is a long way from America,' Tweed pointed out, glancing at the wall map of the world facing him.
'London is roughly half the distance Beijing is from San Francisco – and they're worried about Beijing.'
'Why mention London?'
'It's much closer to the East Coast of America.' 'Why is that relevant?'
'If an enormous Muslim power took over Britain, America would be an isolated fortress, menaced on both coasts.'
'Why do they think that would happen?' Tweed enquired.
'Because they think this European Union idea is a shambles. Umpteen nations, speaking different languages, with different histories, many secretly hating each other. They quote the old Austro-Hungarian Empire – also a.
