havenât seen him lately?â
âLord, no. Not for quite a number of years. His kids stay at Scroop, as I said. But I donât suppose Binns himself ever comes near this part of the world now.â
âOn the contrary, sir.â
This was a murmur from Tarbox, and Colonel Raven turned to him in surprise.
âWhatâs that, Tarbox?â
âMr Binns is now in the library, sir. He has called. The hour being a trifle on the early side for an after-dinner visit, I thought it well to accommodate him there.â
âWell, Iâm blessed!â
âI have provided whisky, sir. But with some shade of hesitation.â
âLike that, is it?â
âYes, sir. And her ladyship will find coffee in the drawing-room.â
âThe deuce she will!â
âYes, sir. I judged it possible she might not wish to join the gentlemen until the conclusion of Mr Binnsâ visit.â
âI see. Is the fellow bad?â
âWhy, no, sir. Only a trifle heavy. Vino gravis, as it was expressed by the ancients.â
âBlockhead means a bit lit up,â Colonel Raven explained, when Tarbox had withdrawn again. He was clearly impressed by this latest exhibition of his butlerâs linguistic knowledge. âAlfred Binns always was a little that way. But no vice in him, you know.â
âIâm touched,â Judith said, âby Tarboxâs anxiety to preserve me from anything unedifying. But I take it that Mr Binns isnât violent in his cups?â
âLord, no, my dear. The man wouldnât hurt a fly.â
Â
It wasnât at all clear to Appleby â when he had been introduced to Alfred Binns some ten minutes later â that the former tenant of Scroop House was in fact drunk. Tarbox, he was disposed to feel, had keener philological than physiological perception. It was true that Binns had been drinking, since he did faintly smell of whisky. But he had the appearance â at least to an expert eye â of a man suffering from the effect of shock rather than of a man suffering from the effect of alcohol.
âDelighted to see you after all these years,â Colonel Raven was saying amiably. âHope you have time to stop and have a bit of a yarn, my dear Binns. Conditions have changed over there a good deal, Iâve been told.â
âChanged, have they?â Binns was a heavily built man in his middle fifties. He possessed, Appleby felt, that kind of powerful personality which makes it difficult to take a guess at some menâs antecedents and background. Binns might have come a long way â and done so by exercising a good deal of ruthlessness en route. He was a man who could make stiff, quick decisions and stick to them. On the other hand, there was some obscure point at which he was vulnerable. And it was possible to feel that, quite lately, this point had been touched.
âDecidedly changed,â Colonel Raven went on. âNo time ago at all, I heard of a fellow getting drowned â and in a deuced queer way.â
âI know nothing of that.â It was with some abruptness that Binns offered this reply.
âAh, you must be a bit out of touch. Shooting, too.â
âShooting?â Binns glanced rapidly from Colonel Raven to Appleby and back again. âShooting at Scroop?â
Colonel Raven stared.
âScroop, my dear fellow? They donât have lobsters at Scroop.â
â Lobsters ?â Alfred Binns had flushed darkly, as if suspecting he was being made a fool of.
âDrowned while up to something called skin diving, my dear Binns. And stalking lobsters and shooting them under water. Big fish too, in the same way. Stalk them across the ocean bed with some sort of electric gun. Would you call that angling, now? Itâs a nice point.â
âGood heavens, Raven â what on earth are you talking about?â
âSea, my dear chap, not earth. And the Caribbean, of course. Great