“Don't be a fool, Flora!” said Miss Patterdale trenchantly. “You don't suppose the Chief Inspector wants to listen to all these idiotic theories of yours, do you? You'd be better advised to pop home, and take a look at that new litter of yours. My father once had a field spaniel who buried her first pups alive. You can't be too careful.”
“My treasured Ullapool!” said Mrs. Midgeholme indignantly. “She's the most wonderful little mother! Beautiful pups, too! Tell it not in Gath, but I have a feeling that one of the dogs is going to be as big a prize-winner as Ulysses.”
“I've thought of a jolly good name for you,” offered Charles. “Call him Uzziah!”
Mrs. Midgeholme seemed a little doubtful. The Chief Inspector said judicially: “I don't say it's a bad name, but to my way of thinking there's a better. I lay awake for a good hour last night, trying to remember it. It came in a rattling good yarn I read when I was a boy—before your time, I expect, sir. Umslopogaas!”
“Before my time nothing!” retorted Charles. “Every right-minded person knows his Rider Haggard! Damn! Why didn't I think of that? It's terrific!”
Mrs. Midgeholme, though gratified that the Chief Inspector should have expended so much thought on the Ultimas, was plainly not enamoured of the name. She said that if she bred black Pekes she might think about it; and she was just about to explain to the company her reasons for not breeding black Pekes when Miss Patterdale put a summary end to the discussion by saying with a snort: “And then call one of the bitches Ullalume, and be done with it! I don't know whether the Chief Inspector wants to waste his time choosing absurd names for your dogs, Flora, but I'm not going to waste any more of mine. I'm going to get on with my weeding.”
She then favoured Hemingway with a curt nod, and strode off to where she had left her trug and gardening-fork.
Mrs. Midgeholme looked a trifle disconcerted, but laughed, and said: “Dear old Miriam! I always say, Abby, that your aunt is quite a character. But, of course, it wasn't the Ultimas I wanted to see you about, Chief Inspector. I did hope to catch you this morning, but it was not to be. You got my message?”
This question, uttered in a somewhat suspicious tone, seemed to be addressed as much to Harbottle as to Hemingway, and it was he who answered it, at his most wooden.
“Now, I know perfectly well that you think I'm interfering,” said Mrs. Midgeholme, upon receiving his assurance, “but what I feel is that anyone who lives in Thornden is bound to know more about all the people than a stranger. You see what I mean?”