“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Hetty said quietly. “I see that my girls continue to be an annoyance to you. I’m afraid we involved you in matters you’d really rather not be concerned with last Christmas.”

“Oh, I don’t know, multiple murder is very much my concern. Corpses littering the streets of Cambridge will always be something of an annoyance. And you’ve apologised—quite unnecessarily, Hetty—about six times.” He added with the mock severity of a nanny, “You know I don’t accept apologies unless they come with the intention of never repeating the sin or the crime or the carelessness.”

“Pompous prat!” said the armchair. “You should have taught the boy better manners, Hetty. What you’re both missing is the real reason those two girls were putting on such a show. They were delighted to be here, without their parents. Note that! They had a good time just being themselves, I do believe. And in no small measure thanks to Johnny’s bottomless fund of funny—and risqué—stories. Those young ladies are both longing for experience. In search of something, I’d judge,” he finished cryptically.

“I’d thought much the same myself,” Redfyre said. “And I’ll tell you, whatever it is they’re looking for, it’s not me!”

Hetty sighed. “Sadly, you’re right, Johnny. There you are—good-looking, well-educated, decorated soldier with the gift of the gab, and they are initially charmed, but then they learn that you’re a working man and poor as a church mouse. Nothing wrong with that in today’s world, but it’s the kind of work you do, John. ‘My nephew’s a policeman,’ I say and watch the smile fade from their lips, the light from their eyes. However pointedly I put out the information that you are my heir and will cut up for a fair amount of tin when I go, it’s too late. The damage is done.” She sighed. “I don’t observe the same adverse reaction to your cousin Hugh. The mention of ‘stocks and shares’ and ‘the city’ makes women of my generation fall back a step and hastily change the subject, but these young things—well, it seems to arouse their interest if anything. This pair certainly put him to the question! In spite of . . .” She frowned and hesitated.

“Hugh’s appearance is a bit eccentric and his voice rather loud,” Redfyre admitted, saving her from a discourteous comment. “But—”

“Hugh has the looks and the voice of a bullfrog! Can’t stand the young tyke!” Gerald grumbled. “Banking! Huh! The chap gambles with other people’s money and calls it a profession.”