The Remains of the Day Part 8

"Excuse me asking, sir," Mr Andrews said, "but what sort of a man is Mr Eden? I mean, at the personal level. I've always had the impression he's a jolly decent sort. The sort that can talk to anyone high or low, rich or poor. Am I right, sir?"

"I would say that is, by and large, an accurate picture. But of course I have not seen Mr Eden in recent years, and he may have been much changed by pressures. One thing I have witnessed is that public life can change people unrecognizably in a few short years."

"I don't doubt that, sir," said Mr Andrews.

"Even Harry here. Got himself involved with his politics a few years back and he's never been the same man since."

There was laughter again, while Mr Harry Smith shrugged and allowed a smile to cross his face. Then he said: "It's true I've put a lot into the campaigning work. It's only at a local level, and I never meet anyone half as grand as the likes you a.s.sociate with, sir, but in my own small way I believe I'm doing my part. The way I see it, England's a democracy, and we in this village have suffered as much as anyone fighting to keep it that way. Now it's up to us to exercise our rights, every one of us. Some fine young lads from this village gave their lives to give us that privilege, and the way I see it, each one of us here now owes it to them to play our part. We've all got strong opinions here, and it's our responsibility to get them heard. We're out of the way, all right, a small village, we're none of us getting younger, and the village is getting smaller. But the way I see it we owe it to the lads we lost from this village. That's why, sir, I give so much of my time now to making sure our voice gets heard in high places. And if it changes me, or sends me to an early grave, I don't mind."

"I did warn you, sir," Mr Taylor said with a smile. "There was no way Harry was going to let an influential gentleman like yourself come through the village without giving you his usual earful."

There was laughter again, but I said almost immediately: "I think I understand your position very well, Mr Smith. I can well understand that you wish the world to be a better place and that you and your fellow residents here should have an opportunity to contribute to the making of a better world. It is a sentiment to be applauded. I dare say it was a very similar urge which led me to become involved in great affairs before the war. Then, as now, world peace seemed something we had only the most fragile grasp of, and I wished to do my part."

"Excuse me, sir," said Mr Harry Smith, "but my point was a slightly different one. For the likes of yourself, it's always been easy to exert your influence. You can count the most powerful in the land as your friends. But the likes of us here, sir, we can go year in year out and never even lay eyes on a real gentleman - other than maybe Dr Carlisle. He's a first-cla.s.s doctor, but with all respect, he doesn't have connections connections as such. It gets easy for us here to forget our responsibility as citizens. That's why I work so hard at the campaigning. Whether people agree or disagree - and I know there's not one soul in this room now who'd agree with everything I say as such. It gets easy for us here to forget our responsibility as citizens. That's why I work so hard at the campaigning. Whether people agree or disagree - and I know there's not one soul in this room now who'd agree with everything I say - at least I'll get them thinking. At least I'll remind them of their duty. This is a democratic country we're living in. We fought for it. We've all got to play our part."

"I wonder what could have happened to Dr Carlisle," Mrs Smith said. "I'm sure the gentleman could just about use some educated educated talk now." This provoked more laughter. talk now." This provoked more laughter.

"In fact," I said, "although it has been extremely enjoyable to meet you all, I must confess I'm beginning to feel rather exhausted ... "

"Of course, sir," Mrs Taylor said, "you must be very tired. Perhaps I'll fetch another blanket for you. It's getting much chillier at night now."

"No, I a.s.sure you, Mrs Taylor, I'll be most comfortable." But before I could rise from the table, Mr Morgan said: "I just wondered, sir, there's a fellow we like to listen to on the wireless, his name's Leslie Mandrake. I just wondered if you'd happened to have met him."

I replied that I had not, and was about to make another attempt to retire only to find myself detained by further inquiries regarding various persons I may have met. I was, then, still seated at the table when Mrs Smith remarked: "Ah, there's someone coming. I expect that's the doctor at last."

"I really ought to be retiring," I said. "I feel quite exhausted."

"But I'm sure this is the doctor now, sir," said Mrs Smith. "Do wait a few more minutes."

Just as she said this, there came a knock and a voice said:" "It's just me, Mrs -Taylor."

The gentleman who was shown in was still fairly young - perhaps around forty or so - tall and thin; tail enough, in fact, that he was obliged to stoop to enter the doorway of the cottage. No sooner had he bade us all a good evening than Mrs Taylor said to him: "This is our gentleman here, Doctor. His car's stuck up there on Thornley Bush and he's having to endure Harry's speeches as a result."

The doctor came up to the table and held out his hand to me.

"Richard Carlisle," he said with a cheerful smile as I rose to shake it. "Rotten bit of luck about your car. Still, trust you're being well looked after here. Looked after rather too well, I imagine."

"Thank you," I replied. "Everyone has been most kind."

"Well, nice to have you with us." Dr Carlisle seated himself almost directly across the table from me. "Which part of the country are you from?"

"Oxfordshire," I said, and indeed, it was no easy task to suppress the instinct to add "sir".

"Fine part of the country. I have an uncle lives just outside Oxford. Fine part of the country."

"The gentleman was just telling us, Doctor," Mrs Smith said, "he knows Mr Churchill."

"Is that so? I used to know a nephew of his, but I've rather lost touch. Never had the privilege of meeting the great man, though."

"And not only Mr Churchill," Mrs Smith went on. "He knows Mr Eden. And Lord Halifax."

"Really?"

I could sense the doctor's eyes examining me closely. I was about to make some appropriate remark, but before I could do so, Mr Andrews said to the doctor: "Gentleman was just telling us he's had a lot to do with foreign affairs in his time."

"Is that so indeed?"

It seemed to me that Dr Carlisle went on looking at me for an inordinate length of time. Then he regained his cheerful manner and asked: "Touring around for pleasure?"

"Princ.i.p.ally," I said, and gave a small laugh. "Plenty of nice country around here. Oh, by the way, Mr Andrews, I'm sorry not to have returned that saw yet."

"No hurry at all, Doctor."

For a little time, the focus of attention left me and I was able to remain silent. Then, seizing what seemed a suitable moment, I rose to my feet, saying: "Please excuse me. It has been a most enjoyable evening, but I really must now retire."

"Such a pity you have to retire already, sir," Mrs Smith said. "The doctor's only just arrived."

Mr Harry Smith leaned across his wife and said to Dr Carlisle: "I was hoping the gentleman would have a few words to say about your ideas on the Empire, Doctor." Then turning to me, he went on: "Our doctor here's for all kinds of little countries going independent. I don't have the learning to prove him wrong, though I know he is. But I'd have been interested to hear what the likes of yourself would have to say to him on the subject, sir."

Yet again, Dr Carlisle's gaze seemed to study me. Then he said: "A pity, but we must let the gentleman go off to bed. Had a tiring day, I expect."

"Indeed," I said, and with another small laugh, began to make my way round the table. To my embarra.s.sment, everyone in the room, including Dr Carlisle, rose to their feet.

"Thank you all very much," I said, smiling.

"Mrs Taylor, I did enjoy a splendid supper. I wish you all a very good night." There came a chorus of, "Good night, sir," in reply. I had almost left the room when the doctor's voice caused me to halt at the door.

"I say, old chap," he said, and when I turned, I saw he had remained on his feet. "I have a visit to make in Stanbury first thing in the morning.

I'd be happy to give you a lift up to your car. Save you the walk. And we can pick up a can of petrol from Ted Hardacre's on the way."

"That is most kind," I said. "But I don't wish to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all. Seven thirty all right for you?"

"That would be most helpful indeed."

"Right then, seven thirty it is. Make sure your guest's up and breakfasted for seven thirty, Mrs Taylor." Then turning back to me, he added: "So we can have our talk after all. Though Harry here won't have the satisfaction of witnessing my humiliation."

There was laughter, and another exchange of good nights before I was at last allowed to ascend to the sanctuary of this room.

I trust I need hardly underline the extent of the discomfort I suffered tonight on account of the unfortunate misunderstanding concerning my person. I can only say now that in all honesty I fail to see how I might reasonably have prevented the situation developing as it did; for by the stage I had become aware of what was occurring, things had gone so far I could not have enlightened these people without creating much embarra.s.sment all round. In any case, regrettable as the whole business was, I do not see that any real harm has been done. I will, after all, take my leave of these people in the morning and presumably never encounter them again. There seems little point in dwelling on the matter.

However, the unfortunate misunderstanding aside, there are perhaps one or two other aspects to this evening's events which warrant a few moments' thought - if only because otherwise they may come to niggle one throughout the coming days. For instance, there is the matter of Mr Harry Smith's p.r.o.nouncements on the nature of 'dignity'. There is surely little in his statements that merits serious consideration. Of course, one has to allow that Mr Harry Smith was employing the word 'dignity'

in a quite different sense altogether from my own understanding of it. Even so, even taken on their own terms, his statements were, surely, far too idealistic, far too theoretical, to deserve respect. Up to a point, no doubt, there is some truth in what he says: in a country such as ours, people may indeed have a certain duty to think about great affairs and form their opinions. But life being what it is, how can ordinary people truly be expected to have 'strong opinions' on all manner of things - as Mr Harry Smith rather fancifully claims the villagers here do? And not only are these expectations unrealistic, I rather doubt if they are even desirable. There is, after all, a real limit to how much ordinary people can learn and know, and to demand that each and everyone of them contribute 'strong opinions' to the great debates of the nation cannot, surely, be wise. It is, in any case, absurd that anyone should presume to define a person's 'dignity' in these terms.

As it happens, there is an instance that comes to mind which I believe ill.u.s.trates rather well the real limits of whatever truth may be contained in Mr Harry Smith's views. It is, as it happens, an instance from my own experience, an episode that took place before the war, around 1935.

As I recall, I was rung for late one night - it was past midnight - to the drawing room where his lordship had been entertaining three gentlemen since dinner. I had, naturally, been called to the drawing room several times already that night to replenish refreshments, and had observed on these occasions the gentlemen deep in conversation over weighty issues. When I entered the drawing room on this last occasion, however, all the gentlemen stopped talking and looked at me. Then his lordship said: "Step this way a moment, will you, Stevens?

Mr Spencer here wishes a word with you."

The gentleman in question went on gazing at me for a moment without changing the somewhat languid posture he had adopted in his armchair. Then he said: "My good man, I have a question for you.

We need your help on a certain matter we've been debating. T ell me, do you suppose the debt situation regarding America is a significant factor in the present low levels of trade? Or do you suppose this is a red herring and that the abandonment of the gold standard is at the root of the matter?" I was naturally a little surprised by this, but then quickly saw the situation for what it was; that is to say, it was clearly expected that I be baffled by the question. Indeed, in the moment or so that it took for me to perceive this and compose a suitable response, I may even have given the outward impression of struggling with the question, for I saw all the gentlemen in the room exchange mirthful smiles.

"I'm very sorry, sir," I said, "but I am unable to be of a.s.sistance on this matter." I was by this point well on top of the situation, but the gentlemen went on laughing covertly. Then Mr Spencer said: "Then perhaps you will help us on another matter. Would you say that the currency problem in Europe would be made better or worse if there were to be an arms agreement between the French and the Bolsheviks?"

"I'm very sorry, sir, but I am unable to be of a.s.sistance on this matter."

"Oh dear," said Mr Spencer. "So you can't help us here either." There was more suppressed laughter before his lordship said: "Very well, Stevens. That will be all."

"Please, Darlington, I have one more question to put to our good man here," Mr Spencer said. "I very much wanted his help on the question presently vexing many of us, and which we all realize is crucial to how we should shape our foreign policy. My good fellow, please come to our a.s.sistance. What was M. Laval really intending, by his recent speech on the situation in North Africa? Are you also of the view that it was simply a ruse to scupper the nationalist fringe of his own domestic party?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I am unable to a.s.sist in this matter."

"You see, gentlemen," Mr Spencer said, turning to the others, "our man here is unable to a.s.sist us in these matters."

This brought fresh laughter, now barely suppressed.

"And yet," Mr Spencer went on, "we still persist with the notion that this nation's decisions be left in the hands of our good man here and to the few million others like him. Is it any wonder, saddled as we are with our present parliamentary system, that we are unable to find any solution to our many difficulties? Why, you may as well ask a committee of the mothers' union to organize a war campaign." There was open, hearty laughter at this remark, during which his lordship muttered: "Thank you, Stevens," thus enabling me to take my leave. While of course this was a slightly uncomfortable situation, it was hardly the most difficult, or even an especially unusual one to encounter in the course of one's duties, and you will no doubt agree that any decent professional should expect to take such events in his stride. I had, then, all but forgotten the episode by the following morning, when Lord Darlington came into the billiard room while I was up on a step-ladder dusting portraits, and said: "Look here, Stevens, it was dreadful. The ordeal we put you through last night." I paused in what I was doing and said: "Not at all, sir. I was only too happy to be of service."

"It was quite dreadful. We'd all had rather too good a dinner, I fancy. Please accept my apologies."

"Thank you, sir. But I am happy to a.s.sure you I was not unduly inconvenienced." His lordship walked over rather wearily to a leather armchair, seated himself and sighed. From my vantage point up on my ladder, I could see practically the whole of his long figure caught in the winter sunshine pouring in through the french windows and streaking much of the room. It was, as I recall it, one of those moments that brought home how much the pressures of life had taken their toll on his lordship over a relatively small number of years. His frame, always slender, had become alarmingly thin and somewhat misshapen, his hair prematurely white, his face strained and haggard. For awhile, he sat gazing out of the french windows towards the downs, then said again: "It really was quite dreadful. But you see, Stevens, Mr Spencer had a point to prove to Sir Leonard. In fact, if it's any consolation, you did a.s.sist in demonstrating a very important point. Sir Leonard had been talking a lot of that old-fashioned nonsense. About the will of the people being the wisest arbitrator and so on. Would you believe it, Stevens?"

"Indeed, sir."

"We're really so slow in this country to recognize when a thing's outmoded. Other great nations know full well that to meet the challenges of each new age means discarding old, sometimes well-loved methods. Not so here in Britain. There's still so many talking like Sir Leonard last night. That's why Mr Spencer felt the need to demonstrate his point. And I tell you, Stevens, if the likes of Sir Leonard are made to wake up and think a little, then you can take it from me your ordeal last night was not in vain."

"Indeed, sir."

Lord Darlington gave another sigh. "We're always the last, Stevens. Always the last to be clinging on to outmoded systems. But sooner or later, we'll need to face up to the facts. Democracy is something for a bygone era. The world's far too complicated a place now for universal suffrage and such like. For endless members of parliament debating things to a standstill. All fine a few years ago perhaps, but in today's world? What was it Mr Spencer said last night? He put it rather well."

"I believe, sir, he compared the present parliamentary system to a committee of the mothers' union attempting to organize a war campaign."

"Exactly, Stevens. We are, quite frankly, behind the times in this country. And it's imperative that all forward-looking people impress this on the likes of Sir Leonard."

"Indeed, sir."

"I ask you, Stevens. Here we are in the midst of a continuing crisis. I've seen it with my own eyes when I went north with Mr Whittaker. People are suffering. Ordinary, decent working people are suffering terribly. Germany and Italy have set their houses in order by acting. And so have the wretched Bolsheviks in their own way, one supposes. Even President Roosevelt, look at him, he's not afraid to take a few bold steps on behalf of his people. But look at us here, Stevens. Year after year goes by, and nothing gets better. All we do is argue and debate and procrastinate. Any decent idea is amended to ineffectuality by the time it's gone half-way through the various committees it's obliged to pa.s.s through. The few people qualified to know what's what are talked to a standstill by ignorant people all around them. What do you make of it, Stevens?"

"The nation does seem to be in a regrettable condition, sir."

"I'll say. Look at Germany and Italy, Stevens.

See what strong leadership can do if it's allowed to act. None of this universal suffrage nonsense there. If your house is on fire, you don't call the household into the drawing room and debate the various options for escape for an hour, do you? It may have been all very well once, but the world's a complicated place now. The man in the street can't be expected to know enough about politics, economics, world commerce and what have you. And why should he? In fact, you made a very good reply last night, Stevens. How did you put it? Something to the effect that it was not in your realm? Well, why should it be?

It occurs to me in recalling these words that, of course, many of Lord Darlington's ideas will seem today rather odd - even, at times, unattractive. But surely it cannot be denied that there is an important element of truth in these things he said to me that morning in the billiard room. Of course, it is quite absurd to expect any butler to be in a position to answer authoritatively questions of the sort Mr Spencer had put to me that night, and the claim of people like Mr Harry Smith that one's 'dignity' is conditional on being able to do so can be seen for the nonsense it is. Let us establish this quite clearly: a butler's duty is to provide good service. It is not to meddle in the great affairs of the nation. The fact is, such great affairs will always be beyond the understanding of those such as you and I, and those of us who wish to make our mark must realize that we best do so by concentrating on what is is within our realm; that is to say, by devoting our attention to providing the best possible service to those great gentlemen in whose hands the destiny of civilization truly lies. This may seem obvious, but then one can immediately think of too many instances of butlers who, for a time anyway, thought quite differently. Indeed, Mr Harry Smith's words tonight remind me very much of the sort of misguided idealism which beset significant sections of our generation throughout the twenties and thirties. I refer to that strand of opinion in the profession which suggested that any butler with serious aspirations should make it his business to be forever reappraising his employer - scrutinizing the latter's motives, a.n.a.lysing the implications of his views.' Only in this way, so the argument ran, could one be sure one's skills were being employed to a desirable end. Although one sympathizes to some extent with the idealism contained in such an argument, there can be little doubt that it is the result, like Mr Smith's sentiments tonight, of misguided thinking. One need only look at the butlers who attempted to put such an approach into practice, and one will see that their careers - and in some cases they were highly promising careers - came to nothing as a direct consequence. I personally knew at least two professionals, both of some ability, who went from one employer to the next, forever dissatisfied, never settling anywhere, until they drifted from view altogether. That this should happen is not in the least surprising. For it is, in practice, simply not possible to adopt such a critical att.i.tude towards an employer and at the same time provide good service. It is not simply that one is unlikely to be able to meet the many demands of service at the higher levels while one's attentions are being diverted by such matters; more fundamentally, a butler who is forever attempting to formulate his own 'strong opinions' on his employer's affairs is bound to lack one quality essential in all good professionals: namely, loyalty. Please do not misunderstand me here; I do not refer to the mindless sort of 'loyalty' within our realm; that is to say, by devoting our attention to providing the best possible service to those great gentlemen in whose hands the destiny of civilization truly lies. This may seem obvious, but then one can immediately think of too many instances of butlers who, for a time anyway, thought quite differently. Indeed, Mr Harry Smith's words tonight remind me very much of the sort of misguided idealism which beset significant sections of our generation throughout the twenties and thirties. I refer to that strand of opinion in the profession which suggested that any butler with serious aspirations should make it his business to be forever reappraising his employer - scrutinizing the latter's motives, a.n.a.lysing the implications of his views.' Only in this way, so the argument ran, could one be sure one's skills were being employed to a desirable end. Although one sympathizes to some extent with the idealism contained in such an argument, there can be little doubt that it is the result, like Mr Smith's sentiments tonight, of misguided thinking. One need only look at the butlers who attempted to put such an approach into practice, and one will see that their careers - and in some cases they were highly promising careers - came to nothing as a direct consequence. I personally knew at least two professionals, both of some ability, who went from one employer to the next, forever dissatisfied, never settling anywhere, until they drifted from view altogether. That this should happen is not in the least surprising. For it is, in practice, simply not possible to adopt such a critical att.i.tude towards an employer and at the same time provide good service. It is not simply that one is unlikely to be able to meet the many demands of service at the higher levels while one's attentions are being diverted by such matters; more fundamentally, a butler who is forever attempting to formulate his own 'strong opinions' on his employer's affairs is bound to lack one quality essential in all good professionals: namely, loyalty. Please do not misunderstand me here; I do not refer to the mindless sort of 'loyalty'

that mediocre employers bemoan the lack of when they find themselves unable to retain the services of high-calibre professionals. Indeed, I would be among the last to advocate bestowing one's loyalty carelessly on any lady or gentleman who happens to employ one for a time.

However, if a butler is to be of any worth to anything or anybody in life, there must surely come a time when he ceases his searching; a time when he must say to himself: 'This employer embodies all that I find n.o.ble and admirable. I will hereafter devote myself to serving him.' This is loyalty intelligently intelligently bestowed. What is there 'undignified' in this? One is simply accepting an inescapable truth: that the likes of you and I will never be in a position to comprehend the great affairs of today's world, and our best course will always be to put our trust in an employer we judge to be wise and honourable, and to devote our energies to the task of serving him to the best of our ability. Look at the likes of Mr Marshall, say, or Mr Lane - surely two of the greatest figures in our profession. Can we imagine Mr Marshall arguing with Lord Camberley over the latter's latest dispatch to the Foreign Office? Do we admire Mr Lane any the less because we learn he is not in the habit of challenging Sir Leonard Gray before each speech in the House of Commons? Of course we do not. What is there 'undignified', what is there at all culpable in such an att.i.tude? How can one possibly be held to blame in any sense because, say, the pa.s.sage of time has shown that Lord Darlington's efforts were misguided, even foolish? Throughout the years I served him, it was he and he alone who weighed up evidence and judged it best to proceed in the way he did, while I simply confined myself, quite properly, to affairs within my own professional realm. And as far as I am concerned, I carried out my duties to the best of my abilities, indeed to a standard which many may consider 'first rate'. It is hardly my fault if his lordship's life and work have turned out today to look, at best, a sad waste - and it is quite illogical that I should feel any regret or shame on my own account. bestowed. What is there 'undignified' in this? One is simply accepting an inescapable truth: that the likes of you and I will never be in a position to comprehend the great affairs of today's world, and our best course will always be to put our trust in an employer we judge to be wise and honourable, and to devote our energies to the task of serving him to the best of our ability. Look at the likes of Mr Marshall, say, or Mr Lane - surely two of the greatest figures in our profession. Can we imagine Mr Marshall arguing with Lord Camberley over the latter's latest dispatch to the Foreign Office? Do we admire Mr Lane any the less because we learn he is not in the habit of challenging Sir Leonard Gray before each speech in the House of Commons? Of course we do not. What is there 'undignified', what is there at all culpable in such an att.i.tude? How can one possibly be held to blame in any sense because, say, the pa.s.sage of time has shown that Lord Darlington's efforts were misguided, even foolish? Throughout the years I served him, it was he and he alone who weighed up evidence and judged it best to proceed in the way he did, while I simply confined myself, quite properly, to affairs within my own professional realm. And as far as I am concerned, I carried out my duties to the best of my abilities, indeed to a standard which many may consider 'first rate'. It is hardly my fault if his lordship's life and work have turned out today to look, at best, a sad waste - and it is quite illogical that I should feel any regret or shame on my own account.

Day Four - Afternoon

Little Compton, Cornwall

l HAVE finally arrived at Little Compton, and at this moment, am sitting in the dining hall of the Rose Garden Hotel having recently finished lunch. Outside, the rain is falling steadily.

The Rose Garden Hotel, while hardly luxurious, is certainly homely and comfortable, and one cannot begrudge the extra expense of accommodating oneself here. It is conveniently situated on one corner of the village square, a rather charming ivy-covered manor house capable of housing, I would suppose, thirty or so guests. This 'dining hall' where I now sit, however, is a modern annexe built to adjoin the main building - a long, fiat room characterized by rows of large windows on either side. On one side, the village square is visible; on the other, the rear garden, from which this establishment presumably takes its name. The garden, which seems well sheltered from the wind, has a number of tables arranged about it, and when the weather is fine, I imagine it is a very pleasant place to partake of meals or refreshments. In fact, I know that a little earlier, some guests had actually commenced lunch out there, only to be interrupted by the appearance of ominous storm clouds. When I was first shown in here an hour or so ago, staff were hurriedly stripping down the garden tables - while their recent occupants, including one gentleman with a napkin still tucked into his shirt, were standing about looking rather lost. Then, very soon afterwards, the rain had come down with such ferocity that for a moment all the guests seemed to stop eating just to stare out of the windows.

My own table is on the village square side of the room and I have thus spent much of the past hour watching the rain falling on the square, and upon the Ford and one or two other vehicles stationed outside. The rain has now steadied somewhat, but it is still sufficiently hard as to discourage one from going out and wandering around the village. Of course, the possibility has occurred to me that I might set off now to meet Miss Kenton; but then in my letter, I informed her I would be calling at three o'clock, and I do not think it wise to surprise her by arriving any earlier. It would seem quite likely then, if the rain does not cease very shortly, that I will remain here drinking tea until the proper time comes for me to set off. I have ascertained from the young woman who served me lunch that the address where Miss Kenton is presently residing is some fifteen minutes' walk away, which implies I have at least another forty minutes to wait.

I should say, incidentally, that I am not so foolish as to be unprepared for disappointment. I am only too aware that I never received a reply from Miss Ken ton confirming she would be happy about a meeting. However, knowing Miss Kenton as I do, I am inclined to think that a lack of any letter can be taken as agreement; were a meeting for any reason inconvenient, I feel sure she would not have hesitated to inform me. Moreover, I had stated in my letter the fact that I had made a reservation at this hotel and that any last-minute message could be left for me here; that no such message was awaiting me can, I believe, be taken as further reason to suppose all is well.

This present downpour is something of a surprise, since the day started with the bright morning sunshine I have been blessed with each morning since leaving Darlington Hall. In fact, the day had generally begun well with a breakfast of fresh farm eggs and toast, provided for me by Mrs Taylor, and with Dr Carlisle calling by at seven thirty as promised, I was able to take my leave of the Taylors - who continued not to hear of remuneration - before any further embarra.s.sing conversations had had a chance to develop.

"I found a can of petrol for you," Dr Carlisle announced, as he ushered me into the pa.s.senger seat of his Rover." I thanked him for his thoughtfulness but when I made inquiries as to payment, I found that he, too, would hear none of it.

"Nonsense, old boy. It's only a little bit I found at the back of my garage. But it'll be enough for you to reach Crosby Gate and you can fill up good and proper there."

The village centre of Mos...o...b.., in the morning sunshine, could be seen to be a number of small shops surrounding a church, the steeple of which I had seen from the hill yesterday evening. I had little chance to study the village, however, for Dr Carlisle turned his car briskly into the driveway of a farmyard.

"Just a little short cut," he said, as we made our way past barns and stationary farm vehicles. There seemed to be no persons present anywhere, and at one point, when we were confronted by a closed gate, the doctor said: "Sorry - old chap, but if you wouldn't mind doing the honours."

Getting out, I went to the gate, and as soon as I did so, a furious chorus of barking erupted in one of the barns near by, so that it was with some relief that I rejoined Dr Carlisle again in the front of his Rover.

We exchanged a few pleasantries as we climbed a narrow road between tall trees, he inquiring after how I had slept at the Taylors and so forth. Then he said quite abruptly: "I say, I hope you don't think me very rude. But you aren't a manservant of some sort, are you?" I must confess, my overwhelming feeling on hearing this was one of relief.

"I am indeed, sir. In fact, I am the butler of Darlington Hall, near Oxford."

"Thought so. All that about having met Winston Churchill and so on. I thought to myself, well, either the chap's been lying his head off, or then it occurred to me, there's one simple explanation. "

Dr Carlisle turned to me with a smile as he continued to steer the car up the steep winding road. I said: "It wasn't my intention to deceive anyone, sir. However..."

"Oh, no need to explain, old fellow. I can quite see how it happened. I mean to say, you are a pretty impressive specimen. The likes of the people here, they're bound to take you for at least a lord or a duke." The doctor gave a hearty laugh. "It must do one good to be mistaken for a lord every now and then."

We travelled on in silence for a few moments.

Then Dr Carlisle said to me: "Well, I hope you enjoyed your little stay with us here."