"I'm glad to see you came through the War safe and sound, anyway. Where were you?"
"Oh, all over the place!"
"I'll bet you were. Don't tell me you weren't in that Commando gang, because I shouldn't believe you! Right down your street that must have been!"
Timothy laughed. "I did end up with them," he admitted.
"I knew it! In fact, if I'd found a nasty-looking knife stuck into Mr. Seaton-Carew I'd have arrested you on the spot."
"Ah, I was too clever for you, wasn't I? Beer, or whisky?"
"I'll take a glass of beer, thank you, sir. Now, joking apart, you could help me a bit on this case, if you wanted to. I don't mind telling you that I'm all at sea. Very unfamiliar decor. What I want is some kind of an angle on a few of the dramatis personae, so to speak. Well, here's your very good health, sir!"
Timothy returned the toast, and sat down on the other side of the fireplace. "I don't promise to answer you, but what do you want to know?"
"I want first to know what sort of a man this. Seaton-Carew was, and what he did for a living."
"Search me!" replied Timothy. "I've often wondered. I thought the breed was dead. In fact, how anyone can live in these piping times as what used to be known as a gentleman of leisure has me beat. No visible means of support. Lives at a good address, dressed well, drove a high-powered car, generally to be seen at first-nights, Ascot, the Opera, the Ballet, and at quite a number of slightly surprising houses. Women were inclined to fall for him; men very rarely. That," added Timothy, "is not to be understood to include what we will politely term The Boy Friends. De mortuis nil nisi bonum, Melchizedek!"