“Yes, because he was the most unlikely person he could think of.”
“Do you mean to say that Plenmeller said that in front of this Chief Inspector you say you met?”
“Oh, lord, yes!” replied Charles, turning the contents of the salad-bowl over in chase of an elusive olive. “I thought it was a bit thick myself, but I don't suppose it really mattered much. Too fatuous!”
“Besides, he didn't mind Mr. Warrenby nearly as much as most people did,” Abby remarked. “I mean, he and Mrs. Ainstable have him to parties, don't they? Had him, I mean.”
“Yes—and, come to think of it, why?” said Charles slowly. “He was about the last man on earth you'd expect the Ainstables to have had any time for at all, and it wasn't even as though he was their solicitor. Why did they take him up, Dad?”
“I have no idea, nor should I have said that they did more than show him a little ordinary civility.”
Charles was frowning. “Well, I think they did. The Squire quite definitely introduced him to you, didn't he, Mummy? And he'd never have wormed his way into the Club if the Squire hadn't sponsored him.”
“I expect the Ainstables felt it was their duty to be neighbourly,” said Mrs. Haswell placidly.
“Well, they didn't feel it was their duty to be neighbourly to those ghastly people who evacuated themselves here from London during the blitz, and took Thornden House for the duration!” said Charles. “They never had anything to do with them at all!”
“No, but that was different,” replied his mother. “They weren't permanent residents, and they got things on the Black Market, and said that if you knew your way about you could always get extra petrol. You couldn't expect the Ainstables to have anything to do with them!”