Death on Doomsday
Page 19
“You’ll have to go, Pollard,” the A.C. told him. “It’s more than my life’s worth to refuse. It’ll be an experience for you: she’s one of the few surviving grandes dames. You’ll get a first-rate meal, and the place is a little gem.”
Contrary to his expectations, Pollard enjoyed his visit immensely. He found himself completely at home with the authoritative old lady, whose perceptive comments on Maurice Corden astonished him. After all, he reflected, she was the only one of all these people to shy off the chap in the first place…
As the A.C. had forecast, the lunch itself was admirable, and served by a butler of traditional type. Over coffee Pollard was exhaustively cross-examined on the subject of his family and home. He finally took his leave with a superb azalea from the Corridon greenhouses in the back of the car, a present for Jane.
A comfortable feeling of finality descended upon him as he drove away. At last the whole intricate worrying business had been satisfactorily wound up.
In the event, however, this conclusion was premature. On the following afternoon pale gold sunshine and a sparkle of frost on fallen leaves tempted him to make a brief detour in St. James’s Park. A young man and a girl, walking towards him hand-in-hand, were for a moment vaguely familiar figures, and then suddenly identified. During an exchange of greetings Pollard noticed that while Caroline Tirle remained jubilant, Robert had become poker-faced.
“Mr. Pollard!” Caroline told him, “we’re publicly engaged! It’ll be in The Times tomorrow. When he came down for the Christmas vac, Robert tackled Daddy again, without saying anything to me, and somehow got him round. I simply can’t think how he’s done it, after all the fuss. Aunt Felicity’s caved in, too. When we went to tell her Daddy had given way, she looked at Robert, and then laughed and laughed. Mummy’s never been against it, really, you know. She just thinks it’s her duty to back up Daddy. Actually, I’m certain she’s glad. Her daughter for Brent. The family firm carries on, and all that.”
“No opposition from my father, of course,” Robert took up, his poise regained. “His mind’s above these little family matters. I always think my mother must have popped the question you know. Only Aunt Arminel remains implacable, but she’ll came round in time: too practical to refuse to accept a fait accompli.”
Pollard listened fascinated to these accounts of the reactions of the Tirles, all so perfectly in character. He was warm in his congratulations, and enquired about future plans. The wedding was to be in the following autumn, he learnt.
“You’ll have your First in the bag by then,” he said to Robert. “Have you fixed on your career yet?”
“Come to that, sir,” the young man replied, “I’ve been toying with the idea of looking you up for a spot of advice. I’ve found this affair at Brent and its ramifications absorbing, you know. Are there any prospects in the C.I.D. for a chap like me?”
“Excellent ones,” Pollard told him. “But I’d stick to the idea of going into the Diplomatic, if I were you. I can see a highly promising career for you there.”
Their eyes met squarely, and Robert Tirle gave him a broad grin.
*****
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ALSO IN THE POLLARD & TOYE INVESTIGATIONS SERIES
DEATH OF AN OLD GIRL
THE AFFACOMBE AFFAIR
ALIBI FOR A CORPSE
CYANIDE WITH COMPLIMENTS
NO VACATION FROM MURDER
BURIED IN THE PAST
STEP IN THE DARK
UNHAPPY RETURNS
SUDDENLY WHILE GARDENING
CHANGE FOR THE WORSE
NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CASE
TROUBLED WATERS
THE WHEEL TURNS
LIGHT THROUGH GLASS
WHO GOES HOME?
THE GLADE MANOR MURDERS
Published by Sapere Books.
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Copyright © Elizabeth Lemarchand, 1971
The Estate of Elizabeth Lemarchand has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
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eBook ISBN: 9781912786329