‘I’ve said a dozen times already that I fail to see what we gain by parading matters that are merely personal before Mr Alleyn. Talk about dirty linen!’

‘But, my God, isn’t it better to wash it, however publicly, than to hide it away, still dirty, in our cupboards? I’m persuaded,’ said Fabian vigorously, ‘that only by getting the whole story, the whole complicated mix-up of emotions and circumstances, sorted out and related, shall we ever get at the truth. And after all, this particular bit of linen is perfectly clean. Only rather comic, like Mr Robertson Hare’s underpants.’

‘Honestly!’ said Ursula and giggled.

‘Come on, now, Douglas. Egged on by Flossie you did make a formal pass at Ursy that very afternoon. Didn’t you, now?’

‘I only want to spare Ursy—’

‘No you don’t,’ said Fabian. ‘Come off it, Doug. You want to spare yourself, old cock. This is how it went, I fancy: Flossie, observing my exaltation, told you that it was high time you made a move. Encouraged by Ursy’s carryings on at lunch—you overdid it a bit, Ursy—and gingered up by Flossie, you proposed and were refused.’

‘You didn’t really mind, though, did you, Douglas?’ asked Ursula gently. ‘I mean, it was all rather spur-of-the-momentish, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ said Douglas. ‘Yes, it was. But I don’t mean…’

‘Give it up,’ Fabian advised him kindly. ‘Or were you by any chance in love with Ursy?’

‘Naturally. I wouldn’t have asked Ursy to be my wife…’ Douglas began and then swore softly to himself.

‘And with the wealthy aunt’s blessing why shouldn’t the good little heir speak up like a man? We’ll let it go at that,’ said Fabian, ‘Ursy said her piece, Mr Alleyn, and Douglas took it like a hero and the next thing that happened was me on the mat before Flossie.’

The scene had been formidable and had taken place there, in the study. Flossie, Fabian explained, had contrived to give the whole thing an air of the grossest impropriety. She had spoken in a cold hushed voice. ‘Fabian, I’m afraid what I’m going to say to you is very serious and most unpleasant. I am bitterly disappointed and dreadfully grieved. I think you know what it is that has hurt me so much, don’t you?’

‘I’m afraid I haven’t an inkling so far, Aunt Flossie,’ Fabian had answered brightly and with profound inward misgivings.

‘If you think for a minute, Fabian, I’m sure your conscience will tell you.’