“Oh, no,” said Pruney in a rush. “Nothing like that
“Sounds a bore,” said the captain.
Pruney giggled. “It’s actually quite naughty in bits. I love when the duchess says, “Marital fidelity is so yawn-making.” ”
Henry turned as red as fire. “Shut up!” he said rudely. “I hate it when people quote my play. Shut up, do you hear!”
Pruney’s short-sighted eyes filled with startled tears.
“Nasty Henry,” said Peter in high good humour.
“Come along, Miss Smythe. You shall tell me all about it. I could listen to you all night.”
He led the now gratified Pruney away.
“He can’t even leave Pruney alone,” said Priscilla. “That man’s a menace.”
“He minds me o’ Jimmy MacNeil down in the village,” said Hamish. “That man would lay the cat.”
Priscilla rounded on Henry. “What on earth came over you?” she asked. “There was no need to rip up poor old Pruney like that.”
“How would you feel if you had spent years writing good solid plays and then only been accepted and famous after you’d deliberately produced a piece of twaddle,” said Henry in a hard flat voice. “I can’t even bear a line of
“Oh, darling, I didn’t know you had written it like that deliberately,” said Priscilla with warm sympathy. “And I thought there was something up with me because I didn’t like it. Never mind. After this success you can write what you like. Don’t glower. Look! Food. I’m starving. Lead me to it.”
She slipped her arm through Henry’s and led him away. Hamish watched them go. Priscilla gave Henry’s arm a squeeze and then she bent and kissed his cheek.
Hamish trailed off to where Sir Humphrey Throgmorton was sitting alone. He introduced himself and asked Sir Humphrey if he could fetch him any food.
“Later, my boy. Later,” said Sir Humphrey. “Sit down and talk for a bit. I’m too old to circulate and the sight of that bounder Bartlett makes me ill.”
“Quite a character,” said Hamish.
“He’s rotten,” said old Sir Humphrey, his little grey beard waggling up and down. “I could tell you a thing or two about that cad. The wonder is that he’s never been in prison.”
Hamish looked down at him hopefully, waiting for more, but Sir Humphrey said, “I
Over at the buffet, Hamish arranged a selection of cold meat and salad on a plate and took it back to Sir Humphrey.
Realizing he was hungry himself, he went back to the buffet. By the time he had picked out what he wanted, Sir Humphrey was happily talking to Lady Helmsdale. Then Hamish saw Diana waving to him. She was seated at a table in the corner with Jessica. The girls introduced themselves and Hamish merely said he was Hamish Macbeth, without adding that he was a policeman.
“Do you live near here?” asked Diana, her wide, almost purple eyes roaming over Uncle Harry’s expensive suit.
“Down in the village,” said Hamish.
“Is your wife anywhere about?” asked Jessica.
“I am not married,” said Hamish.
Both girls brightened perceptibly.
“It’s so nice to meet an unmarried man,” drawled Diana. “These house parties can be a drag.”
“I’m not the only unmarried man here,” pointed out Hamish. “I know Mr Pomfret is not married, and Mr Bartlett, I believe, is – ”
“Forget about Peter,” said Jessica. “No girl in her right mind would have anything to do with him. And Jeremy’s a wet. Do eat your food…Hamish, is it?”
“Dangerous places, the Highlands, don’t you think?” said Diana with a sly look at Jessica. “All sorts of accidents can happen.”
“Like what?” asked Hamish.
“Oh, exposure, hypothermia, avalanches…things like that.”
“We had a murder here last year,” said Hamish.
“Yes, we all heard about that,” said Jessica. “The murdered woman was a horrible character anyway. Don’t you think it’s mean when some poor person rids the earth of some obnoxious toad and then has to pay the penalty?”
“You can hardly expect me to agree with you,” said Hamish.
“Oh, why?”
“Not in my official bible,” said Hamish with a grin. “Don’t you know I’m the local bobby?”
“Oh, really?” said Diana, as if Hamish had just confessed to being the local cockroach.
“You’re
Hamish realized the air about him was becoming glacial and murmured something about taking his leave.
He stood up and looked about for Priscilla. She was sitting next to Henry and did not notice him. But Henry did, and put a possessive hand on Priscilla’s knee.
He then thought he should grit his teeth and thank Mrs Halburton-Smythe for her hospitality, but as he approached her she gave him a horrified look and tried to hide behind a plant.
Hamish sighed and made his way to the door. Jeremy Pomfret seized his arm. “I say,” he said,
“have you heard about this bet I’ve got on with Bartlett?”
“Aye, everyone’s talking about it,” said Hamish. “I hear there are a few side bets on, too.”
“Well, it’s now been agreed that we go out at nine in the morning, each with a gun and cartridges, and go off in opposite directions. The first one back at the castle with a brace is the winner.”
“I wish you luck, Mr Pomfret,” said Hamish and turned to leave, but Jeremy clutched at his sleeve.
“I say, old chap,” he said urgently, “couldn’t you, well, sort of be around here at nine tomorrow morning, a sort of referee, you know?”
“What for, Mr Pomfret?”
Jeremy led Hamish into a corner.
“I don’t trust the blighter,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You see, the bet’s for five thousand pounds, and frankly, I don’t believe he’s got it. And he’s been making some side bets, too. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that means he’s certain he’s going to win.”
“Maybe he’s just full of confidence,” said Hamish cautiously. “The captain’s a verra good shot, I’m told. I’m sure you’ll both get your brace tomorrow. The grouse may be a lot scarcer these days, but there are still plenty out there.”
“Yes, but without beaters or even a dog, it could take ages to walk up to a covey. Either of us could win. What worries me is why Bartlett is so certain it will be him, unless he’s got some trick up his sleeve. Sure you won’t come here at nine to see everything is aboveboard?”
“I’d like to, Mr Pomfret,” said Hamish. “But it’s like this. Unless the colonel invites me, I chust cannot put my nose into this. And the colonel is not going to invite me. In fact, he sent word to stop me coming here tonight, but the message got lost on the way. Besides, any suggestion of a referee would mean the colonel would be made to look as if he thought one of his guests was about to cheat, and he wouldn’t stand for that.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” said Jeremy, pouting like a disappointed baby. “Sorry to have troubled you.”
Hamish continued on his way out.
He picked up the parcel containing the waiter’s clothes from a chair in the hall and made his way out onto the drive.
Peter Bartlett, smoking a cigar, was pacing up and down.
