That didn’t sound too bad until I saw that what Queenie had done was to catch a fold of Mrs. Upthorpe’s copious skin in the teeth of the zip fastener and, being Queenie, to keep on tugging. It took several minutes and a great deal of comforting of the distraught Mrs. Upthorpe before we managed to release her back from the zip fastener. There was an ugly red welt that was bleeding in places where the teeth had been.

“Queenie, go and ask the butler for first aid supplies,” I said.

“No, don’t send that girl. She’ll probably come back with caustic soda or weed killer,” Mrs. Upthorpe wailed.

“I’ll go,” I said and dragged Queenie out with me. “How could you?” I demanded as soon as we were clear of the room. “I asked you to be careful.”

“I was,” she said. “I ain’t too used to them zip fasteners and I thought it was just stiff. How was I to know I’d got her caught in it? She don’t half have a lot of flesh.”

I sighed. “I suppose you’d better go help Mrs. Rathbone, since Lady Hawse-Gorzley promised you would,” I said.

“I already been with her. She sent me away because I stuck a hatpin in her bum by mistake.”

“Queenie!”

“It didn’t make her bleed or nothing. And she shouldn’t have turned round so quickly. I don’t know why she made such a fuss.”

“What am I going to do with you, Queenie?”

“I never mean no harm, miss,” she said, staring at me with those big cow eyes.

“I know you don’t. But you’re a walking disaster area all the same.”