Frankie lost no time in setting to work. She attacked her father that sameevening.
“Father,” she said, “do you know any Bassington-ffrenches?”
Lord Marchington, who was reading a political article, did not quite takein the question.
“It’s not the French so much as the Americans,” he said severely1. “Allthis tomfoolery and conferences—wasting the nation’s time and money—”
Frankie abstracted her mind until Lord Marchington, running like arailway train along an accustomed line, came, as it were, to a halt at a sta-tion.
“The Bassington-ffrenches,” repeated Frankie.
“What about ’em?” said Lord Marchington.
Frankie didn’t know what about them. She made a statement, knowingwell enough that her father enjoyed contradiction.
“They’re a Yorkshire family, aren’t they?”
“Nonsense—Hampshire. There’s the Shropshire branch, of course, andthen there’s the Irish lot. Which are your friends?”
“I’m not sure,” said Frankie, accepting the implication of friendship withseveral unknown people.
“Not sure? What do you mean? You must be sure.”
“People drift about so nowadays,” said Frankie.
“Drift—drift—that’s about all they do. In my days we asked people. Thenone knew where one was—fellow said he was the Hampshire branch—very well, your grandmother married my second cousin. It made a link.”
“It must have been too sweet,” said Frankie, “But there really isn’t timefor genealogical and geographical2 research nowadays.”
“No—you’ve no time nowadays for anything but drinking these poison-ous cocktails3.”
Lord Marchington gave a sudden yelp4 of pain as he moved his gouty leg,which some free imbibing5 of the family port had not improved.
“Are they well off?” asked Frankie.
“The Bassington-ffrenches? Couldn’t say. The Shropshire lot have beenhard hit, I believe—death duties, and one thing or another. One of theHampshire ones married an heiress. An American woman.”
“One of them was down here the other day,” said Frankie. “Looking fora house, I believe.”
“Funny idea. What should anyone want with a house down here?”
That, thought Frankie, was the question.
On the following day she walked into the office of Messrs. Wheeler &Owen, House and Estate Agents.
Mr. Owen himself sprang up to receive her. Frankie gave him a gracioussmile and dropped into a chair.
“And what can we have the pleasure of doing for you, Lady Frances?
You don’t want to sell the Castle, I suppose. Ha! Ha!” Mr. Owen laughed athis own wit.
“I wish we could,” said Frankie. “No, as a matter of fact, I believe afriend of mine was down here the other day—a Mr. Bassington-ffrench.
He was looking for a house.”
“Ah! yes, indeed. I remember the name perfectly6. Two small f ’s.”
“That’s right,” said Frankie.
“He was making inquiries7 about various small properties with a view topurchase. He was obliged to return to town the next day, so could notview many of the houses, but I understand he is in no great hurry. Sincehe left, one or two suitable properties have come into the market and Ihave sent him on particulars, but have had no reply.”
“Did you write to London—or to the—er—country address?” inquiredFrankie.
“Let me see now.” He called to a junior clerk. “Frank, Mr. Bassington-ffrench’s address.”
“Roger Bassington-ffrench, Esq., Merroway Court, Staverley, Hants,” saidthe junior clerk glibly8.
“Ah!” said Frankie. “Then it wasn’t my Mr. Bassington- ffrench. Thismust be his cousin. I thought it was odd his being here and not looking meup.”
“Quite so—quite so,” said Mr. Owen intelligently.
“Let me see, it must have been the Wednesday he came to see you.”
“That’s right. Just before six-thirty. We close at six-thirty. I rememberparticularly because it was the day when that sad accident happened. Manfell over the cliff. Mr. Bassington-ffrench had actually stayed by the bodytill the police came. He looked quite upset when he came in here. Very sadtragedy, that, and high time something was done about that bit of path.
The Town Council have been criticized very freely, I can tell you, LadyFrances. Most dangerous. Why we haven’t had more accidents than wehave I can’t imagine.”
“Extraordinary,” said Frankie.
She left the office in a thoughtful mood. As Bobby had prophesied9, allMr. Bassington-ffrench’s actions seemed clear and above aboard. He wasone of the Hampshire Bassington-ffrenches, he had given his proper ad-dress, he had actually mentioned his part in the tragedy to the houseagent. Was it possible that, after all, Mr. Bassington-ffrench was the com-pletely innocent person he seemed?
Frankie had a qualm of doubt. Then she refused it.
“No,” she said to herself. “A man who wants to buy a little place wouldeither get here earlier in the day, or else stay over the next day. Youwouldn’t go into a house agent’s at six-thirty in the evening and go up toLondon the following day. Why make the journey at all? Why not write?”
No, she decided10, Bassington-ffrench was the guilty party.
Her next call was the police station.
Inspector11 Williams was an old acquaintance, having succeeded in track-ing down a maid with a false reference who had absconded12 with some ofFrankie’s jewellery.
“Good afternoon, Inspector.”
“Good afternoon, your Ladyship. Nothing wrong, I hope.”
“Not as yet, but I’m thinking of holding up a bank soon, because I’m get-ting so short of money.”
The inspector gave a rumbling13 laugh in acknowledgement of this witti-cism.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve come to ask questions out of sheer curiosity,”
said Frankie.
“Is that so, Lady Frances?”
“Now do tell me this, Inspector — the man who fell over the cliff —Pritchard, or whatever his name was—”
“Pritchard, that’s right.”
“He had only one photograph on him, didn’t he? Somebody told me hehad three!”
“One’s right,” said the inspector. “Photograph of his sister it was. Shecame down and identified him.”
“How absurd to say there were three!”
“Oh! That’s easy, your Ladyship. These newspaper reporters don’t mindhow much they exaggerate and as often as not they get the whole thingwrong.”
“I know,” said Frankie. “I’ve heard the wildest stories.” She paused amoment then drew freely on her imagination. “I’ve heard that his pocketswere stuffed with papers proving him to be a Bolshevik agent, and there’sanother story that his pockets were full of dope, and another again abouthis having pockets full of counterfeit14 bank notes.”
The inspector laughed heartily15.
“That’s a good one.”
“I suppose really he had just the usual things in his pockets?”
“And very few at that. A handkerchief, not marked. Some loose change,a packet of cigarettes and a couple of treasury16 notes—loose, not in a case.
No letters. We’d have had a job to identify him if it hadn’t been for thephoto. Providential, you might call it.”
“I wonder,” said Frankie.
In view of her private knowledge, she considered providential a singu-larly inappropriate word. She changed the conversation.
“I went to see Mr. Jones, the Vicar’s son, yesterday. The one who’s beenpoisoned. What an extraordinary thing that was.”
“Ah!” said the inspector. “Now that is extraordinary, if you like. Neverheard of anything like it happening before. A nice young gentlemanwithout an enemy in the world, or so you’d say. You know, Lady Frances,there are some queer customers going about. All the same, I never heardof a homicidal maniac17 who acted just this way.”
“Is there any clue at all to who did it?”
Frankie was all wide-eyed inquiry18.
“It’s so interesting to hear all this,” she added.
The inspector swelled19 with gratification. He enjoyed this friendly con-versation with an Earl’s daughter. Nothing stuck up or snobbish20 aboutLady Frances.
“There was a car seen in the vicinity,” said the inspector. “Dark-blue Tal-bot saloon. A man on Lock’s Corner reported dark-blue Talbot, No. GG8282, passed going direction St. Botolph’s.”
“And you think?”
“GG 8282 is the number of the Bishop21 of Botolph’s car.”
Frankie toyed for a minute or two with the idea of a homicidal bishopwho offered sacrifices of clergymen’s sons, but rejected it with a sigh.
“You don’t suspect the Bishop, I suppose?” she said.
“We’ve found out that the Bishop’s car never left the Palace garage thatafternoon.”
“So it was a false number.”
“Yes. We’ve got that to go on all right.”
With expressions of admiration22, Frankie took her leave. She made nodamping remark, but she thought to herself:
“There must be a large number of dark-blue Talbots in England.”
On her return home she took a directory of Marchbolt from its place onthe writing table in the library and removed it to her own room. Sheworked over it for some hours.
The result was not satisfactory.
There were four hundred and eighty-two Evanses in Marchbolt.
“Damn!” said Frankie.
She began to make plans for the future.

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1
severely
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adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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2
geographical
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adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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3
cocktails
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n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 );餐前开胃菜;混合物 | |
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4
yelp
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vi.狗吠 | |
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5
imbibing
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v.吸收( imbibe的现在分词 );喝;吸取;吸气 | |
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6
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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7
inquiries
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n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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8
glibly
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adv.流利地,流畅地;满口 | |
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9
prophesied
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v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
decided
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adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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11
inspector
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n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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12
absconded
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v.(尤指逃避逮捕)潜逃,逃跑( abscond的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
rumbling
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n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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14
counterfeit
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vt.伪造,仿造;adj.伪造的,假冒的 | |
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15
heartily
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adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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16
treasury
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n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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17
maniac
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n.精神癫狂的人;疯子 | |
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18
inquiry
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n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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19
swelled
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增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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20
snobbish
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adj.势利的,谄上欺下的 | |
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21
bishop
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n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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22
admiration
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n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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