‘You’ve been working too hard, Douglas,’ she said. ‘You’re suffering from nervous strain, dear.’

But Douglas made short work of this objection and indignantly put before her the link with Mr Kurata Kan, at which Flossie winced, the vagueness of Markins’ antecedents, the importance of their work, the impossibility of taking the smallest risk and their clear duty in the matter. It would be better, he said, if after further investigation on Douglas’s part Markins still looked suspicious, for Flossie and not Douglas or Fabian to report the matter to the highest possible authority.

Poor Flossie wrung her hands. ‘Think of what he does,’ she wailed. ‘And he’s so good with Arthur. He’s marvellous with Arthur. And he’s so obliging, Douglas. Single-handed butler in a house of this size! Everything so nice, always. And there’s no help to be got. None.’

‘The girls will have to manage.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ she cried, rallying. ‘I’m always right in my judgement of people. I never go wrong. I won’t believe it.’

But, as Ursula had said, Flossie was an honest woman, and it seemed as if Douglas had done his work effectively. She tramped up and down the room hitting her top teeth with a pencil, a sure sign that she was upset. He waited.

‘You’re right,’ Flossie said at last. ‘I can’t let it go.’ She lowered her chin and looked at Douglas over the tops of her pince-nez. ‘You were quite right to tell me, dear,’ she said. ‘I’ll handle it.’

This was disturbing. ‘What will you do?’ he asked.

‘Consider,’ said Florence magnificently. ‘And act.’

‘How?’

‘Never you mind.’ She patted him rather too vigorously on the cheek. ‘Leave it all to your old Floosy,’ she said. This was the abominable pet name she had for herself.

‘But, Auntie,’ he protested, ‘we’ve a right to know. After all—’

‘So you shall. At the right moment.’ She dumped herself down at her desk. She was a tiny creature but all her movements were heavy and noisy. ‘Away with you,’ she said. Douglas hung about. She began to write scratchily and in a moment or two tossed another remark at him. ‘I’m going to tackle him,’ she said.

Douglas was horrified. ‘Oh, no, Aunt Floss. Honestly, you mustn’t. It’ll give the whole show away. Look here, Aunt Floss—’

But she told him sharply that he had chosen to come to her with his story and must allow her to deal with her own servants in the way that seemed best to her. Her pen scratched busily. When in his distress he roared at her, she, too, lost her temper and told him to be quiet. Douglas, unable to make up his mind to leave her, stared despondently through the window and saw Markins, neatly dressed, walk past the window mopping his brow. He had tramped up from the front gate.