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t。 She had recently remarried； and this time she'd tied herself not to a thin dark…haired risk…taking bundle of plexes； but to a man to fit her needs； a safe； greying； sweetnatured unplicated fellow with a knighthood。 Jenny； the warring unhappy Mrs Halley； was now serenely Lady Wingham。 A photograph of her with her handsome beaming Sir Anthony stood in a silver frame next to the telephone on Charles's desk。
'How's Jenny？' I asked politely。
'Fine；'Charles answered without expression。
'Good。'
'He's a bore； after you；' Charles observed。
'You can't say such things。'
'I can say what I bloody well like in my own house。'
In harmony and mutual regard we passed a peaceful evening； disturbed only by five more calls on my mobile phone； all demanding to know； with varying degrees of peremptoriness； where they could find Sid Halley。
I said each time 'This is an answering service。 Leave your number and we'll pass on your message。'
All of the callers； it seemed； worked for newspapers； a fact that particularly left me frowning。
'I don't know where they all got this number from；' I told Charles。 'It's not in any directory。 I give it only to people I'm working for； so they can reach me day or night； and only to others whose calls I wouldn't want to miss。 I tell them it's a private line for their use only。 I don't hand this number out on printed cards； and I don't have it on my writing paper。 Quite often I re…route calls to this phone from my phone in the flat； but I didn't today because of Gordon Quint bashing away outside and preventing me from going in。 So how do half the newspapers in London know it？'
'How will you find out？' Charles asked。
'Um 。。。 engage Sid Halley to look into it； I dare say'。
Charles laughed。 I felt uneasy； all the same。 Someone had been listening on that number； and now someone had broadcast it。 It wasn't that my phone conversations were excessively secret and I'd started the semi…exclusive number anyway solely so that the machine didn't buzz unnecessarily at awkward moments …but now I had a sense that someone was deliberately crowding me。 Tapping into my puter which wouldn't get anyone far； as I knew a lot of defences。 Assaulting me electronically。 Stalking。
Enough was enough。 Five newspapers were too much。 Sid Halley； as I'd said； would have to investigate his own case。
Charles's long…time live…in housekeeper； Mrs Cross； all dimples and delight； cooked us a simple supper and fussed over me fortably like a hen。 I guiltily found her a bit smothering sometimes； but always sent her a card for her birthday。
I went to bed early and found that； as usual； Mrs Cross had left warm weling lights on in my room and had put out fresh pyjamas and fluffy towels。
A pity the day's troubles couldn't be as easily cosseted into oblivion。
I undressed and brushed my teeth and eased off the artificial hand。 My left arm ended uselessly four inches below the elbow； a familiar punctuation； but still a sort of bereavement。
My right arm now twinged violently at every use。
Damn the lot； I thought。
CHAPTER 2
The morning brought little improvement。
I sometimes used a private chauffeur…driven car hire firm based in London to ferry around people and things I wanted to keep away from prying eyes and； consequently； waking to a couple of faulty arms； I telephoned from Charles's secure number and talked to my friends at TeleDrive。
'Bob？' I said。 'I need to get from north…west of Oxford to Kent； Canterbury。 There'll be a couple of short stops on the journey。 And； sometime this afternoon； a return to London。 Can anyone do it at such short notice？'
'Give me the address；' he said briefly。 'We're on our way。'
I breakfasted with Charles。 That is to say； we sat in the dining…room where Mrs Cross； in her old…fashioned way； had set out toast； coffee and cereals and a warming dish of scrambled eggs。
Charles thought mornings hadn't begun without scrambled eggs。 He ate his on toast and eyed me drinking coffee left…handedly。 From long acquaintance with my preference for no fuss； he made no ment on the consequences of iron bars。
He was reading a broad…sheet newspaper which； as he showed me； was making a good…taste meal of Ginnie Quint's death。 Her pleasant； smiling face inappropriately spread across two columns。 I shut out of my mind any image of what she might look like sixteen floors down。
Charles said； reading aloud； '〃Friends say she appeared depressed about her son's forthing trial。 Her husband； Gordon； was unavailable for ment。〃 In other words； the Press couldn't find him。'
Ordeal by newsprint； I thought； the latter…day torture。
'Seriously； Sid；' Charles said in his most calm civilised voice； 'was Gordon's rage at you transient or 。。。 er 。。。 obsessive？'
'Seriously；' I echoed him； 'I don't know。' I sighed。 'I should think it's too soon to tell。 Gordon himself probably doesn't know。'
'Do take care； Sid。'
'Sure。' I sorted through the flurry of impressions I'd gathered in the brief seconds of violence in Pont Square。 'I don't know where Ginnie was when she jumped；' I said； 'but I don't think Gordon was with her。 I mean； when he leaped at me he was wearing country clothes。 Work…day clothes： mud on his boots； corduroy trousers； old tweed jacket； open…necked blue shirt。 He hadn't been staying in any sixteen…storey hotel。 And the metal bar he hit me with 。。。 it wasn't a smooth rod； it was a five…foot piece of angle iron； the sort you thread wire through for fencing。 I saw the holes in it。'
Charles stared。
I said； 'I'd say he was at home in Berkshire when he was told about Ginnie。 I think if I'd loitered around to search； I would have found Gordon's Land…Rover parked near Pont Square。'
Gordon Quint； though a landowner； was a hands…on custodian of his multiple acres。 He drove tractors； scythed weeds to clear streams； worked alongside his men to repair his boundaries； re…fence his sheep fields and thin out his woodlands； enjoying both the physical labour and the satisfaction of a job most petently done。
I knew him also as self…admiring and as expecting and receiving deference from everyone； including Ginnie。 It pleased him to be a generous host while leaving his guests in no doubt of his superior worth。
The man I'd seen in Pont Square； all 'squire' manner stripped away； had been a raw； hurt； outraged and oddly more genuine person than the Gordon I'd known before： but until I learned for sure which way the explosively tossed…up bricks of his nature would e down； I would keep away from fencing posts and any other agricultural hardware he might be travelling with。
I told Charles I'd engaged TeleDrive to e and pick me up。 To his raised eyebrows I explained I would put the cost against expenses。 Whose expenses？ General running expenses； I said。
'Is Mrs Ferns paying you？' Charles neutrally asked。
'Not any more。'
'Who is； exactly？' He liked me to make a profit。 I did； but he seldom believed it。
'I don't starve；' I said； drinking my coffee。 'Have you ever tried three or four eggs whipped up in mushroom soup？ Instant mushroom omelette； not at all bad。'
'Disgusting。' Charles said。
'You get a different p