“Last-minute substitution, I’m afraid,” Ducky said. “I told her to make beef casserole and I discovered it was swimming with garlic and onions. I couldn’t serve that to Maude. Really, these people have no idea.” She turned to me. “Couldn’t even make a steak and kidney pudding, can you believe? And breakfast—had never heard of kidneys for breakfast.”

“And eggplant,” Foggy added. “Will keep trying to serve us something called eggplant. Doesn’t taste anything like an egg.”

“And she can’t make proper puddings, can she, Mummy?” Maude chimed in. “I wanted rice pudding but all I got was silly fruit.”

I finished my one slice of ham in silence. Then I remembered why I was here.

“Tell me,” I said, “do you know Sir Toby Groper?”

“Know of the bounder, but don’t know the man personally,” Foggy said. “Not really one of us, you know.”

“N.O.C.D. Made his money in trade,” Ducky added. The former meaning “not our class, dear.”

Everyone at the table shuddered.

“And not just trade,” Foggy went on, warming to his subject. “Armaments. I mean, our ancestors were involved in the East India Company, but that was decent trade. Respectable. Bringing civilization to the natives at the same time. His family supplied guns to both sides in every damned war.”

“Really? I thought he made his money from motorcars,” Ducky said.

“Since the war, yes,” Foggy said.

“I heard there was some scandal about that too,” Binky chimed in. “Didn’t he swindle his partner or something?”

“Did he?” Fig asked.

“Maybe not swindle, but there was some question about who actually invented that bally motor of his. Some kind of lawsuit. Didn’t the other chap kill himself?”

“Horrible little man,” Ducky said. “I understand he swans it down here on the Riviera. Ostentatious great yacht and a villa full of artworks. No taste at all, of course.”

“Where is his villa?” I asked.

“No idea.”

“So you don’t ever meet him at parties?”

“We don’t go in for parties,” Ducky said. “All that loud music and people getting drunk. We don’t drink.”

Of course I realized then that there was no wine on the table.

“A quiet game of bridge or whist is more our style,” Foggy added. “And Ducky does jigsaw puzzles.”

Oh, Lord, how was I ever going to meet Sir Toby if I was stuck at Villa Gloriosa drinking water, tutoring children and doing jigsaw puzzles?