Jimmy Thesitzer, this affable young man, hurried down the grand staircase at the Chimneys, two steps at a time. He was descending so quickly that he collided with Trentwell, the dignified butler, as the latter was crossing the hall still carrying some hot coffee. Thanks to Trentwell's remarkable readiness and agility, disaster was averted.

"Sorry," said Jimmy. "Tell me, Trentwell, am I the last one down?"

"No, sir. Mr. Wade has not come down yet."

"Good," said Jimmy and entered the breakfast room. It was empty except for his hostess, and her disapproving glance made Jimmy feel the same discomfort he felt whenever he happened to notice the eyes of a dead codfish on the fishmonger's counter. But, damn it, why was this woman looking at him like that? Arriving exactly at half past nine when you lived in a country mansion was simply impossible. Okay, now it was quarter past eleven and maybe he had exceeded the limit, but still…

"Did I perhaps arrive a little late, Lady Coot?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Lady Coot in a melancholy voice. In reality, those who were late for breakfast annoyed her very much. During the first ten years of her married life, Sir Oswald Coot (then just Mr. Coot) would fly into a rage if his morning meal was even a minute late after eight o'clock. Lady Coot had learned to consider tardiness a deadly sin of the most unforgivable kind.