Free Appleby at Allington by Michael Innes Page A

yourself in it,’ Allington said. ‘There’s prescriptively a glass of sherry afterwards in the drawing-room. But I shouldn’t be positively astounded if it turned out to be a reasonable sort of champagne.’
    ‘That sounds wonderful.’ In fact, Judith thought it didn’t. A glass of champagne – not a particularly momentous object – best appears unheralded. ‘But oughtn’t you to keep it for the grand celebration?’ she asked.
    ‘But so I am. We celebrate the departure of all those worthy people, and the return of a year’s peace to Allington.’
    ‘I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of the moment when you draw up all that lost wealth from the lake.’
    ‘Ah, yes – that will be a moment, certainly.’ Suddenly Owain Allington quickened his pace. ‘We mustn’t be too late for old Mrs Junkin’s meringues,’ he said. ‘Although I shouldn’t be surprised if she’s kept one or two back for myself and partner.’
    ‘I shouldn’t be surprised, either,’ Judith said.

 
     
8
    Appleby had bought a television set from William Goodcoal, and the proprietor of the Public Address System consequently received him with considerable respect – even going so far as to facilitate conversation by turning down the volume of the musical entertainment being discoursed from his van. Appleby was not in the same class as Lady Killcanon, and Mr Goodcoal would have been surprised to hear himself leading a cheer for him. But the gentleman at Long Dream paid his bills (which was more than the previous occupants, relations of the gentleman’s wife, had been able to do) and had a handle to his name: a combination of circumstances which Mr Goodcoal, a right-thinking man, accounted at its proper worth. Moreover it was agreeable in Sir John Appleby to come over and have a chat with him. Mr Goodcoal was glad to observe that Mrs Goodcoal (who had been a little put out as a consequence of being asked to wash tea-cups rather than hand them round) was so located as to have this distinguishing circumstance within her view.
    ‘A skilled job you have here, Mr Goodcoal,’ Appleby said, after having exchanged salutations. ‘A good many things to think of at once. I’m surprised you haven’t had to bring along one or two of your assistants. But no doubt you have plenty for them all to do.’ William Goodcoal, he hoped, was properly gratified by this unblushing conjuring up of a mythical corps of subordinates.
    ‘Well, sir, I won’t say the order books are not pretty full. And as for working single-handed – well, it’s the expertise that counts. That and the up-to-date character of the equipment, sir. Goodcoal Enterprises insist on having nothing but the best and latest thing. As far as this part of the country goes, I think I may say we are very competitive, Sir John – very competitive, indeed. And the same is true of our associated companies.’ Mr Goodcoal paused in order to make a hasty grab at one of the dials in front of him. A rather unpleasant wailing sound (as of a woman in trouble over a demon lover) had suddenly begun to issue from the antique loud-speakers above his head.
    ‘A very good tone, you have there,’ Appleby said. ‘A nice quality of sound. An excellent timbre . I’ve been hearing some criticism, in that field, of this big affair Mr Allington has had here during the last few weeks. Very coarse reproduction at times, it seems. The wiring all wrong. Synchronization defective. Fluctuating volume. Oscillation. Interference. Poor show.’
    ‘They’ve no conscience, them big London firms.’ Mr Goodcoal had given a snort of gratified contempt. ‘And no personal supervision. Now, sir, with Goodcoal Enterprises all installations are under the direct superintendence of the proprietor.’
    ‘I’m sure they are.’
    ‘Or the Managing Director, Sir John.’ If not very logically, William Goodcoal’s imagination was taking wing. ‘Or of the Chairman of the Board… Drat that thing!’ The machine in