“Perhaps you’d not mind going and calling them.”

“Of course I will.”

“Wait a moment—I’d like you to read this.”

She handed Phillipa the letter she had received.

Phillipa read it and frowned. “I don’t understand….”

“Nor do I, quite … I think it’s about time I did. Call Patrick and Julia, Phillipa.”

Phillipa called from the bottom of the stairs:

“Patrick! Julia! Miss Blacklock wants you.”

Patrick came running down the stairs and entered the room.

“Don’t go, Phillipa,” said Miss Blacklock.

“Hallo, Aunt Letty,” said Patrick cheerfully. “Want me?”

“Yes, I do. Perhaps you’ll give me an explanation of this?”

Patrick’s face showed an almost comical dismay as he read.

“I meant to telegraph her! What an ass I am!”

“This letter, I presume, is from your sister Julia?”

“Yes—yes, it is.”

Miss Blacklock said grimly:

“Then who, may I ask, is the young woman whom you brought here as Julia Simmons, and whom I was given to understand was your sister and my cousin?”

“Well—you see—Aunt Letty—the fact of the matter is—I can explain it all—I know I oughtn’t to have done it—but it really seemed more of a lark than anything else. If you’ll just let me explain—”

“I am waiting for you to explain. Who is this young woman?”

“Well, I met her at a cocktail party soon after I got demobbed. We got talking and I said I was coming here and then—well, we thought it might be rather a good wheeze if I brought her along … You see, Julia, the real Julia, was mad to go on the stage and Mother had seven fits at the idea—however, Julia got a chance to join a jolly good repertory company up in Perth or somewhere and she thought she’d give it a try—but she thought she’d keep Mum calm by letting Mum think that she was here with me studying to be a dispenser like a good little girl.”

“I still want to know who this other young woman is.”

Patrick turned with relief as Julia, cool and aloof, came into the room.

“The balloon’s gone up,” he said.

Julia raised her eyebrows. Then, still cool, she came forward and sat down.

“O.K.,” she said. “That’s that. I suppose you’re very angry?” She studied Miss Blacklock’s face with almost dispassionate interest. “I should be if I were you.”

“Who are you?”

Julia sighed.

“I think the moment’s come when I make a clean breast of things. Here we go. I’m one half of the Pip and Emma combination. To be exact, my christened name is Emma Jocelyn Stamfordis—only Father soon dropped the Stamfordis. I think he called himself De Courcy next.