Good sense of humour, she thought. You saw that in matrimonial advertisements sometimes, and it seemed important. Well, she could specify that if she had to talk to any prospective brides about him. That, and his speed of approach to any problem. These were both very positive points that she could, in good conscience, bring to the attention of any suitable women. If they existed, of course; presumably they did, and it was just a question of finding them. Well, one favour deserved another—that was how the world worked.

—

SHE MADE HER WAY back to the office in good spirits. The confirmation that the house she had been looking for was in Zebra Drive—of all places—was a major step forward in what could have been a rather vague and unsatisfactory enquiry, and once she had spoken again to Mma Rosie, she felt that she would be able to present Mma Susan with what she was looking for. If she were looking for her past—and Mma Ramotswe was beginning to have her doubts about that. But those doubts could be addressed in due course; for the time being she had achieved what she had set out to find, and that was something to be pleased about. Her leg, too, felt completely normal, and the possibility that venom had entered her system was now discounted. That had been a close thing, and it could have ended very differently, but it had not—and that was another thing to be thankful for. Mma Ramotswe was a bit hazy about statistics, but she imagined that it might be possible to work out the odds of stepping on a puff adder at some point in one’s life. Well, she had just done that, and surely this meant that the odds of her doing it again would be infinitesimal, which meant that she was safer now than she had been before that unfortunate night-time encounter—or so she hoped. She might discuss those statistics with Mr. Polopetsi, who, as a chemist, knew a little bit about statistics.

Mr. Polopetsi’s problems were, of course, far from over, but at least she had a plan that might extract him from the difficulties he had created for himself. A happy outcome could not be guaranteed, but she could try, and if it worked, she was reasonably confident that he would not do anything quite so foolish again. Her plan would have to be implemented before too long, before more people were sucked into the pyramid scheme by Mr. Polopetsi’s friend, but she had a few days, she imagined, to make the necessary arrangements. That would include a frank discussion with Mr. Polopetsi himself, who would have to agree to the risk entailed. She was not looking forward to that conversation, but there was no way round it.