Again, it was known that Major Benjy had called at Mallards soon after the scene, whatever it was, had taken place, and had refused to go into the garden-room, when he heard that Georgie was painting Elizabeth’s portrait. Withers was witness (she had brought several pots of jam to Diva’s house that morning, not vegetable marrow at all, but raspberry, which looked like a bribe) that the Major had said ‘Faugh!’ when she told him that Georgie was there. Major Benjy himself could not be cross-examined because he had gone out by the eleven o’clock tram to play golf. Lucia had not been seen in the High Street at all, nor had Miss Mapp, and Georgie had only passed through it in his car, quite early, going in the direction of Grebe. This absence of the principals, in these earlier stages of development, was felt to be in accordance with the highest rules of dramatic technique, and everybody, as far as was known, was to meet that very night at Lucia’s house-warming. Opinion as to what would happen then was as divergent as the rumours of what had happened already. Some said that Miss Mapp had declined the invitation on the plea that she was engaged to dine with Major Benjy. This was unlikely, because he never had anybody to dinner. Some said that she had accepted, and that Lucia no doubt intended to send out a message that she was not expected, but that Georgie’s car would take her home again. So sorry. All this, however, was a matter of pure conjecture, and it was work enough to sift out what had happened, without wasting time (for time was precious) in guessing what would happen.

The church clock had hardly struck half-past eleven (winter time) before the first of the principals appeared on the stage of the High Street. This was Miss Mapp, wreathed in smiles, and occupied in her usual shopping errands. She trotted about from grocer to butcher, and butcher to general stores, where she bought a mouse-trap, and was exceedingly affable to tradespeople. She nodded to her friends, she patted Mr Woolgar’s dog on the head, she gave a penny to a ragged individual with a lugubrious baritone voice who was singing ‘The Last Rose of Summer’, and said ‘Thank you for your sweet music.’ Then after pausing for a moment on the pavement in front of Wasters, she rang the bell. Diva, who had seen her from the window, flew to open it.

‘Good morning, Diva dear,’ she said. ‘I just looked in. Any news?’

‘Good gracious, it’s I who ought to ask you that,’ said Diva. ‘What did happen really?’

Elizabeth looked very much surprised.

‘How? When? Where?’ she asked.

‘As if you didn’t know,’ said Diva, fizzing with impatience. ‘Mr Georgie, Lucia, paintboxes, no chain on the door, you at the garden-room window, belly-pelly. Etcetera. Yesterday morning.’

Elizabeth put her finger to her forehead, as if trying to recall some dim impression. She appeared to succeed.