“Jolly good. Come on, then. This way,” Oona said. “Clear off, dogs. Go on. Out of the way.” She tried to clear a dog-free path down the hallway, not too successfully.

“Treadwell is your cook?” Zou Zou asked as she picked her way over boots and past dogs to follow Oona into the sitting room. This time there was no cat on a chair but several new piles of books, the Times, with a crossword half done, and a dozen eggs in a basket.

“Treadwell used to be the family butler at Kilhenny,” Oona said. “When the castle was sold, we took him in. He’s become a marvelous cook among other things, although he still likes to behave as if he’s superior to us.” She gave the bellpull a firm jerk. Neat footsteps tapped down the hall and Treadwell appeared, hastily taking off an apron. “You rang, Lady Whyte?” he asked.

“We have guests, Treadwell,” she said. “We shall need sherry glasses, and we don’t happen to have any nibbles, do we?”

“No nibbles, I regret, Lady Whyte. If you had given me advance notice I could have provided cheese straws.” He gave her a critical stare.

Oona laughed and slapped her hand on her side. “Exactly what I said, wasn’t it? I told them you were a dab hand at cheese straws.”

“Is your husband at home?” Zou Zou asked as Treadwell made a dignified exit.

“Dooley? Oh yes, he’s bound to be around somewhere. Still busy with the battle of Waterloo, I’m afraid. I told him to put his considerable brainpower to saving poor Thaddy, but he can’t leave the Duke of Wellington in the lurch.” She looked up as Treadwell returned with sherry glasses and a decanter on a silver tray. He removed the basket of eggs without a change in expression, put the tray down, then began to pour.

“Treadwell, when you’re finished, please tell Sir Dooley that we have guests, so perhaps he should comb his hair before he comes down.”

Zou Zou gave a happy little smile. We sipped our sherry and soon Dooley appeared, his hair neatly parted and slicked down. But this effect was spoiled because he was still wearing a moth-eaten cardigan over a shirt with egg down the front. Dooley was properly presented to Zou Zou.

“I hear you are re-creating the battle of Waterloo,” she said. “How terribly exciting.”

“You’re interested in history, are you?” he asked.

“In that battle, oh yes,” she said. “I have an uncle who thinks he is Napoleon.”

“Then would you like to see it? It’s all laid out in the attic. Absolute faithful re-creation.”

“Dooley, she doesn’t want to see your toy soldiers,” Oona began but Zou Zou cut in, saying, “I’d absolutely love to.”

“Come on, then.” Dooley headed for the door. “But be careful not to let the dogs in or they’ll spoil everything.”