‘Mallards,’ she said to herself. ‘Quaint Irene… Woffles and… Georgie will know. Certainly Tilling is fascinating… Intriguing, too… characters of strong individuality to be dealt with… A great variety, but I think I can manage them… And what about Miss Mapp?… Those wide grins… We shall see about that…’

Lucia awoke herself from a doze by giving a loud snore, and for one agonised moment thought it was Georgie, whom she had hoped to hear snoring, in alarming proximity to herself. That nightmare-spasm was quickly over, and she recognised that it was she that had done it. After all her trouble in not letting a sound of any sort penetrate through that door!

Georgie heard it. He was getting sleepy, too, in spite of his uneasy musings, but he was just wide awake enough to realise where that noise had come from.

‘And if she snores as well…’ he thought, and dozed off.

Chapter 3

It was hardly nine o’clock in the morning when they set out for the house agents’, and the upper circles of Tilling were not yet fully astir. But there was a town crier in a blue frock coat ringing a bell in the High Street and proclaiming that the water-supply would be cut off that day from twelve noon till three in the afternoon. It was difficult to get to the house agents’, for the street where it was situated was being extensively excavated and they had chosen the wrong side of the road, and though they saw it opposite them when halfway down the street, a long detour must be made to reach it.

‘But so characteristic, so charming,’ said Lucia. ‘Naturally there is a town crier in Tilling, and naturally the streets are up. Do not be so impatient, Georgie. Ah, we can cross here.’

There was a further period of suspense.

‘The occupier of Mallards Cottage,’ said Mr Woolgar (or it might have been Mr Pipstow), ‘is wanting to let for three months, July, August and September. I’m not so sure that she would entertain –’

‘Then will you please ring her up,’ interrupted Georgie, ‘and say you’ve had a firm offer for two months.’

Mr Woolgar turned round a crank like that used for starting rather old-fashioned motor cars, and when a bell rang, he gave a number, and got into communication with the brown bungalow without proper plumbing.

‘Very sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘but Miss Poppit has gone out for her sun-bath among the sand dunes. She usually takes about three hours if fine.’

‘But we’re leaving again this morning,’ said Georgie. ‘Can’t her servant, or whoever it is, search the sand dunes and ask her?’

‘I’ll enquire, sir,’ said Mr Woolgar sympathetically. ‘But there are about two miles of sand dunes, and she may be anywhere.’

‘Please enquire,’ said Georgie.