Free There Came Both Mist and Snow by Michael Innes Page B

produced a mixture of polite scramble and acid comment – Wale leading the scramble, Anne the comment, and Wilfred being vigorously active on both fronts.
    ‘Has nobody ,’ asked Cecil accusingly when this diversion was over, ‘seen my Serious Call ?’
    ‘Talking of serious calls,’ said Wilfred, ‘I must write to a fellow about his margins.’ He began to prowl about peering into ink pots.
    ‘In his picture,’ said Geoffrey, ‘Cousin Cecil shall have the mule in one hand and Law’s Serious Call in the other. Behind him the concave mirror shall reflect a distorted version of Titian’s Sacred and Profane Love . It will be a problem picture in the hoary old manner and quite the success of the year.’ He nodded at his father. ‘Veteran painter’s perplexing vision.’
    Anne put down her cup. ‘Sir Mervyn should have his place in the composition. Whither Cecil goes–’
    I saw Wale looking more than startled at this impossible personality and judged it well to intervene hastily. ‘I have always felt,’ I said, ‘that tea is the turning point of the day.’
    The remark was meant to be soothing rather than meaningful. But Anne considered it gravely. ‘A sentiment,’ she asked with deliberation, ‘which marks Uncle Arthur as of the turned rather than the turners?’
    ‘The day,’ said Geoffrey, ‘carries him on its great arc from morn to evening. And, supine, he murmurs such aphorisms as these.’
    The gibberish of these young people was becoming wholly tiresome. I was about to brace my mind to the not-too-stretching task of evolving some more cogent witticism in reply when Anne took up her part in the verbal pit-pat again. ‘But what,’ she asked, ‘will Uncle Arthur do when Hesperus nightly cries banishment from the bed of his bride Belrive?’
    ‘The sword,’ said Geoffrey, ‘thrust between the sheets at ten p.m. sharp.’
    ‘Hurry up, Uncle Arthur, it’s time. Hurry up, please it’s time.’
    Cecil, who had been poking after William Law’s masterpiece in a dark corner, turned round abruptly. ‘What extravagant nonsense are you talking, Anne?’
    ‘Haven’t you gathered? Cousin Basil is selling Belrive to Horace Cudbird to build the world’s biggest pub.’
    ‘On the contrary’ – Geoffrey shook his head – ‘he is selling the place to Ralph Cambrell to run more Cambrell benevolence. Cambrell houses, shops, and cinema. The week will begin with worship in a Cambrell chapel and end with football and hockey on Cambrell fields under the Cambrell code. A happy self-contained community financed by Cambrell all round. For the study of the ruins a Cambrell Archaeological Society will be formed.’
    Cecil sat down abruptly. ‘Why ever should Basil do either of these abominable things?’
    ‘To reach the moon,’ said Anne. ‘Again, haven’t you heard? There is to be a great rocket winging through space. And Geoffrey and I are putting in for the job of pilots. Like the interstellar necking party in Wells’ film. We look at the moon and feel there may be a square deal in those argent fields.’
    ‘Actually,’ said Geoffrey, ‘the idea is to start a meteorological station in the Antarctic. A great deal of money is required: that’s what Basil’s appealing for. As human purposes go it has much to commend it.’
    ‘But surely’ – Cecil was looking round him in bewilderment – ‘Basil cannot legally–’
    His brother Wilfred gave a muffiny snort. ‘I don’t believe a word of it. But if it were true I know who could stop him.’
    ‘Lucy, might I after all have a cup of tea?’
    The voice at the door was Basil’s; the effect upon the company in the library was discomposing in the extreme.
    ‘If you will allow me to carry it off, that is.’
    ‘The Serious Call ,’ said Cecil loudly. ‘I wonder if any of you have seen my Serious Call ?’
    Wilfred put down his muffin. ‘That fellow’s margins,’ he said. ‘Really must get off a note.’ He peered into the nearest ink