Hari Kumar. It might conceivably crop up because Colonel Layton is an old Chillingburian too.’
Merrick broke off. The door of the Maharanee’s room hadopened and Aneila was coming hastily towards them. Seeing Perron she ran to him and grasped his arm.
‘Oh thank goodness you are still here, Auntie is asking for you. Please come quickly. She is in a terrible temper and won’t come out to her party. It is so embarrassing with all these people here.’
Still holding his arm she turned back towards the room so that Perron was forced to follow. As he went Merrick said, ‘We shall be here for another few minutes, I expect.’
Directly Aneila entered the room the Maharanee cried, ‘Shut the door! I cannot stand it! Why do they hang around in the corridor when there are all the rooms to use? Why don’t you organize things better? How am I going to rest for my party with all this noise going on?’
‘Oh, Auntie, please don’t shout, people will hear!’
‘How can they hear? I cannot even hear myself speak!’
But it no longer mattered. Aneila had shut the door and stood, visibly trembling, leaning against it.
The Maharanee was still on the couch but by its side now was a small table holding a tray, the bottle of whisky and a glass.’
Pointing at the bottle she said, ‘Taste it! Taste it! What is this Purvis creature trying to do? Poison me?’
Perron went across to the couch and picked up the bottle. It was nearly a quarter empty. He glanced at the Maharanee and then at the label. Surprised, he put the uncapped top near his nose and sniffed. The label was genuine. He wondered where Purvis had managed to get hold of it. He hadn’t seen a bottle since 1939. He had first tasted the particular brand of whisky it contained at the age of eighteen when it had had an elaborately erotic effect on him. He looked at the Maharanee again, warily.
‘You see!’ she shouted. ‘It is disgusting! Taste it! The taste is even more disgusting than the smell. Aneila, why are you standing there doing nothing? Get Mr Perron a glass.’
Aneila ran into the adjoining bathroom.
‘Actually, Your Highness, it’s a very fine and rare old malt whisky, an acquired taste perhaps, admittedly –’
‘It is disgusting! What is keeping you, Aneila? I said bring Mr Perron a glass.’
‘I’m bringing it, Auntie.’
She ran in with a tumbler. It was wet from running water from the tap under which it had been rinsed.
‘Pour him one!’
But Perron took the glass and reverently poured the whisky himself. It was too precious to waste. He sipped.
‘Well? Is it not disgusting?’
‘Not to my way of thinking, Your Highness. On first acquaintance it could seem a little smoky but that’s part of its charm to people who like it.’
‘They must be depraved then. Who but people with depraved tastes could drink such disgusting stuff?’
‘There’s a very interesting story about it. They said it wasn’t until the English learnt to drink and appreciate it that they managed to subdue the Scots.’
‘Scots, English, what is the difference? You are all barbarians. Are there many of you at my party?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
‘Who else? Aneila is hopeless. She remembers nobody’s name.’
‘So far I’ve talked to only a few. I think you know one of them – Count Bronowsky.’
She waved a hand impatiently. ‘Yes, I know. Even Aneila can tell me that. But why is he here? Why is Dmitri here tonight? I told him any time except tonight. Who is with him?’
‘The secretary who’s a son of Mr Mohammed Ali Kasim.’
‘Politics!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is too boring.’
‘And a Major Merrick with a charming girl called Sarah Layton. Count Bronowsky brought them.’
‘He is mad! And how can Sarah Layton be charming? With a name like that she must be English. I detest English girls. They are always so stupid and rude. They come out here because in England they are nobody and wouldn’t be looked at twice. It is impossible. The
Merrick broke off. The door of the Maharanee’s room hadopened and Aneila was coming hastily towards them. Seeing Perron she ran to him and grasped his arm.
‘Oh thank goodness you are still here, Auntie is asking for you. Please come quickly. She is in a terrible temper and won’t come out to her party. It is so embarrassing with all these people here.’
Still holding his arm she turned back towards the room so that Perron was forced to follow. As he went Merrick said, ‘We shall be here for another few minutes, I expect.’
Directly Aneila entered the room the Maharanee cried, ‘Shut the door! I cannot stand it! Why do they hang around in the corridor when there are all the rooms to use? Why don’t you organize things better? How am I going to rest for my party with all this noise going on?’
‘Oh, Auntie, please don’t shout, people will hear!’
‘How can they hear? I cannot even hear myself speak!’
But it no longer mattered. Aneila had shut the door and stood, visibly trembling, leaning against it.
The Maharanee was still on the couch but by its side now was a small table holding a tray, the bottle of whisky and a glass.’
Pointing at the bottle she said, ‘Taste it! Taste it! What is this Purvis creature trying to do? Poison me?’
Perron went across to the couch and picked up the bottle. It was nearly a quarter empty. He glanced at the Maharanee and then at the label. Surprised, he put the uncapped top near his nose and sniffed. The label was genuine. He wondered where Purvis had managed to get hold of it. He hadn’t seen a bottle since 1939. He had first tasted the particular brand of whisky it contained at the age of eighteen when it had had an elaborately erotic effect on him. He looked at the Maharanee again, warily.
‘You see!’ she shouted. ‘It is disgusting! Taste it! The taste is even more disgusting than the smell. Aneila, why are you standing there doing nothing? Get Mr Perron a glass.’
Aneila ran into the adjoining bathroom.
‘Actually, Your Highness, it’s a very fine and rare old malt whisky, an acquired taste perhaps, admittedly –’
‘It is disgusting! What is keeping you, Aneila? I said bring Mr Perron a glass.’
‘I’m bringing it, Auntie.’
She ran in with a tumbler. It was wet from running water from the tap under which it had been rinsed.
‘Pour him one!’
But Perron took the glass and reverently poured the whisky himself. It was too precious to waste. He sipped.
‘Well? Is it not disgusting?’
‘Not to my way of thinking, Your Highness. On first acquaintance it could seem a little smoky but that’s part of its charm to people who like it.’
‘They must be depraved then. Who but people with depraved tastes could drink such disgusting stuff?’
‘There’s a very interesting story about it. They said it wasn’t until the English learnt to drink and appreciate it that they managed to subdue the Scots.’
‘Scots, English, what is the difference? You are all barbarians. Are there many of you at my party?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
‘Who else? Aneila is hopeless. She remembers nobody’s name.’
‘So far I’ve talked to only a few. I think you know one of them – Count Bronowsky.’
She waved a hand impatiently. ‘Yes, I know. Even Aneila can tell me that. But why is he here? Why is Dmitri here tonight? I told him any time except tonight. Who is with him?’
‘The secretary who’s a son of Mr Mohammed Ali Kasim.’
‘Politics!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is too boring.’
‘And a Major Merrick with a charming girl called Sarah Layton. Count Bronowsky brought them.’
‘He is mad! And how can Sarah Layton be charming? With a name like that she must be English. I detest English girls. They are always so stupid and rude. They come out here because in England they are nobody and wouldn’t be looked at twice. It is impossible. The
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