In the end I agreed, and that day she took me over the estate. For the first time I realized its extent. It was not only the house, with its fifty-odd rooms and its twenty or more servants. There were over a hundred acres of land, with forty men to look after them. There were conservatories and an orchid house, and even a stable where Tony kept his hunters and a saddle horse or two. I met Andy McDonald, the old Scot who was in charge of the grounds, and Gus, the head chauffeur. There seemed to be men everywhere, although Maud said she had cut down both outdoor and indoor staffs. We went back by the west wing, and inside the house she showed me where the key to the playhouse was kept, in the drawer of a table in the hall near the door.

“You can swim there whenever you like, of course,” she said, “but lock it when you leave. We used to keep it open until Evans, the watchman, came on duty at night. But we found the caddies from the golf course were slipping in.”

Weeks later that key was to become of vital importance, and the playhouse itself a thing of horror. I was to answer innumerable questions about both:

“The key was always in this drawer?”

“Unless the playhouse was in use, yes.”

“Then anybody had access to the playhouse?”

“Anybody in the house.”

“That would be—?”

“The servants when they cleaned it, and the family, naturally. I sometimes swam there myself. And twice a week one of the outside men drained and cleaned the pool. That’s all, except for invited guests.”

The house had been restored to order that day when we came back; the caterer’s van had taken away the gold and rose damask chairs, the tables were gone from the court, and the ballroom was being closed. Tony appeared for lunch, looking rather the worse for wear, but cheerful.

“Quite a night,” he said, kissing his mother. “In fact, quite a night. It’s amazing, but I seem to have more brains than I have room for. What do you make of that, Miss Abbott?”

“It must be unusual.”

He turned to Maud.

“She doesn’t like me,” he complained. “And I like to be liked. Do you have to have her around?”

Maud only smiled.

“She’s coming to stay with us,” she said placidly. “And for heaven’s sake call her Pat and ask her to call you Tony. She is a nice girl and you’ll like her.”

“That’s my trouble,” he said. “I like her already, but she snubbed me last night, Maud. I had to go into the powder room and cry it out.”

Evidently she was used to his nonsense. She paid no attention to it, save to warn me against it.

“Don’t bother about him,” she said. “All week he is a hard-working businessman. I don’t know what the mills would do without him. Or I,” she added.