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By Root 519 0

them, I think, there are one or two of the Parkinsons, because my grandmother knew the Parkinsons. I thought perhaps you would like to see it as you seemed to be so interested in the history of your house and who has lived in it in the past. Please don’t bother to send it back to me because it means nothing to me personally really, I can assure you. One has so many things in the house always belonging to aunts and grandmothers and the other day when I was looking in an old chest of drawers in the attic I came across six needle-books. Years and years old. And I believe that was not my grandmother but her grandmother again who used at one time always to give a needle-book to the maids for Christmas and I think these were some she had bought at a sale and would do for another year. Of course quite useless now. Sometimes it seems sad to think of how much waste there has always been.

‘A photo album,’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, that might be fun. Come along, let’s have a look.’

They sat down on the sofa. The album was very typical of bygone days. Most of the prints were faded by now but every now and then Tuppence managed to recognize surroundings that fitted the gardens of their own house.

‘Look, there’s the monkey puzzle. Yes–and look, there’s Truelove behind it. That must be a very old photograph, and a funny little boy hanging on to Truelove. Yes, and there’s the wistaria and there’s the pampas grass. I suppose it must have been a tea-party or something. Yes, there are a lot of people sitting round a table in the garden. They’ve got names underneath them too. Mabel. Mabel’s no beauty. And who’s that?’

‘Charles,’ said Tommy. ‘Charles and Edmund. Charles and Edmund seem to have been playing tennis. They’ve got rather queer tennis racquets. And there’s William, whoever he was, and Major Coates.’

‘And there’s–oh Tommy, there’s Mary.’

‘Yes. Mary Jordan. Both names there, written under the photograph.’

‘She was pretty. Very pretty, I think. It is very faded and old, but–oh Tommy, it really seems wonderful to see Mary Jordan.’

‘I wonder who took the photograph?’

‘Perhaps the photographer that Isaac mentioned. The one in the village here. Perhaps he’d have old photographs too. I think perhaps one day we’ll go and ask.’

Tommy had pushed aside the album by now and was opening a letter which had come in the midday post.

‘Anything interesting?’ asked Tuppence. ‘There are three letters here. Two are bills, I can see. This one–yes, this one is rather different. I asked you if it was interesting,’ said Tuppence.

‘It may be,’ said Tommy. ‘I’ll have to go to London tomorrow again.’

‘To deal with your usual committees?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Tommy. ‘I’m going to call on someone. Actually it isn’t London, it’s out of London. Somewhere Harrow way, I gather.’

‘What is?’ said Tuppence. ‘You haven’t told me yet.’

‘I’m going to call on someone called Colonel Pikeaway.’

‘What a name,’ said Tuppence.

‘Yes, it is rather, isn’t it?’

‘Have I heard it before?’ said Tuppence.

‘I may have mentioned it to you once. He lives in a kind of permanent atmosphere of smoke. Have you got any cough lozenges, Tuppence?’

‘Cough lozenges! Well, I don’t know. Yes, I think I have. I’ve got an old box of them from last winter. But you haven’t got a cough–not that I’ve noticed, at any rate.’

‘No, but I shall have if I’m going to see Pikeaway. As far as I can remember, you take two choking breaths and then go on choking. You look hopefully at all the windows which are tightly shut, but Pikeaway would never take a hint of that kind.’

‘Why do you think he wants to see you?’

‘Can’t imagine,’ said Tommy. ‘He mentions Robinson.’

‘What–the yellow one? The one who’s got a fat yellow face and is something very hush-hush?’

‘That’s the one, said Tommy.

‘Oh well,’ said Tuppence, ‘perhaps what we’re mixed up in here is hush-hush.’

‘Hardly could be considering it all took place–whatever it was, if there is anything–years and years ago, before even Isaac can remember.’

‘New sins have old shadows,’ said Tuppence, ‘if that’s the saying I mean. I haven’t got it quite