Lord Mullion's Secret by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online

could seek refuge for a time. If the rain were to prove continuous he could even remain there until Swithin turned up with his car. It looked as if Swithin’s obliging disposition was going to earn him a good soaking at the start.
    Honeybath became aware that there was, after all, a building in sight. It lay behind a high wall which had suddenly appeared on his right hand, so that its character was not immediately apparent. Honeybath was still in doubt about this when a head appeared above the wall and he found himself being addressed by a venerable clergyman.
    â€˜My dear sir,’ the venerable clergyman said, ‘can I not prevail upon you to enter the church?’
    â€˜Thank you. You are very kind.’
    â€˜Not at all. It is an invitation, alas, which I am well accustomed to addressing to those who ought to regard themselves as my parishioners. And now here I am – calling out, it may be said, in the highways and byways. Pray hasten, before you are soaked to the skin. There is an entrance, or better an aperture, only a few yards ahead. Strait is the gate, so far as our local people are concerned. The most imposing access to the churchyard is from the direction of the castle, naturally enough.’
    Honeybath, not much regarding the element of chit-chat in this, hurried on and found the aperture. Within seconds he was inside the church itself. It was crepuscular and diminutive, the latter attribute being accented by the presence of a great deal of monumental and funerary sculpture of the more massive sort. He was incongruously reminded, indeed, of a doll’s house lavishly equipped with furniture a size too large for it. But at least it was shelter, and Honeybath hastened to express his gratitude for this and to explain himself.
    â€˜A shocking downpour,’ he then said. ‘It was predicted by a young man who has now very kindly gone in search of petrol for me. I jumped to the rash conclusion that he must be Lord Mullion’s son, but he proved to be one of the gardeners, and told me his name was Gore.’
    â€˜Ah, yes – Swithin Gore. I saw him myself only a little time ago, and he was good enough to wave to me.’ The clergyman, who appeared to find this an amusing circumstance, glanced at Honeybath thoughtfully. ‘You are on your way to the castle, sir?’
    â€˜I am on my way to stay there. But my immediate idea was to get as far as the drive and seek refuge in the lodge.’
    â€˜An idle thought, I fear. The lodge is empty and boarded up. The rich man is still in his castle, I am happy to say. But the poor man is no longer at his gate. Tempora mutantur , et nos mutamur in illis . May I mention that my name is Atlay? I am the incumbent.’
    â€˜How do you do? Honeybath is my name.’
    â€˜Ah, indeed!’ Dr Atlay’s features registered a kind of magisterial pleasure. ‘I might have supposed it to be so, Mr Honeybath. Lord Mullion has mentioned to me that you were coming down. And upon what occasion. An excellent idea upon Mullion’s part – as I told him at once. Nobody could do better justice to his wife than yourself, if I may venture a mere amateur’s judgement upon such matters.’
    â€˜Thank you very much.’ Honeybath didn’t manage to say this particularly gratefully, since the receiving of formal compliments invariably irritated him. ‘I don’t know Lady Mullion very well, but she appears to be an admirable woman.’
    â€˜She is so, indeed – although not quite sound, I am sorry to say, upon the grand principle of subordination. It comes of belonging to a ducal house. Dukes are very odd fish, Mr Honeybath, as you have no doubt had abundant occasion to remark. Particularly when they are Whigs, as most of them are. Indeed, Mullion made a venturesome marriage, and I am inclined to regard as a matter of special dispensation by the Divine Providence the fact that it has been a happy one. There are two