The Open House by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page B

fondly or not, he believed that his great moment had come. He had kept his promise by Adrian: the candle in the window, and much other welcoming ritual besides. And now, after many years, Adrian was keeping his promise by him.
    Appleby’s only impulse was to get out. If the car didn’t herald the owner of Ledward at all – if it contained, for instance, a conscientious local policeman doing his best to keep an eye on what must by now be a notorious folly – then Professor Snodgrass’ disillusion would be an uncomfortable thing to witness. If, on the other hand, Adrian Snodgrass had really and truly turned up, the resulting family occasion would equally not be an affair for a stranger to assist at. Adrian after ten years or more would not be quite the Adrian his uncle remembered, and the encounter might not, for one reason or another, run on the kind of lines the old gentleman had been envisaging. Appleby somehow couldn’t believe in an agreeable Adrian Snodgrass. In a sense, no doubt, the Professor had enjoyed his long wardenship of Ledward Park, but he would surely have enjoyed it more if he had continued to receive, from time to time, some token of thanks or interest from its wandering heir. Moreover, unless he had been treating himself to the perverse enjoyment of putting on a dotard’s turn, it seemed likely that the Adrian who now chiefly existed in his memory was a very early Adrian indeed: perhaps even the small boy who had been photographed in soldier’s uniform long ago.
    Having decided so much, Appleby got to his feet. Discounting as much as possible the mere oddity of proposing to walk out into the night, he would take a firm conventional farewell of Professor Beddoes Snodgrass (not forgetting a further word of praise for the port) and depart resolutely from the house. And he decided to leave by the french window he had lately investigated. It would be more awkward still to run into the returning Adrian (if, again, conceivably it was he) before his own open front door.
    ‘Not yet, my dear Appleby.’ The Professor had made a gesture which invited his guest to resume his seat. ‘I know you must be as eager to greet Adrian as I am. But it won’t be proper quite yet.’
    ‘Not proper?’ Appleby was so astonished that he did actually sit down again. ‘If it’s really your nephew who is arriving, surely you are going straight out to welcome him?’
    ‘Certainly not. You forget that this is his own house. He enters and takes possession of it. He enjoys, if he cares to, the refreshment laid out for him. It will then be for us to present ourselves. In a sense we shall be welcoming him. But it will be, on my part, as a kinsman who is a neighbour, and, on your part, as that kinsman’s guest. Listen! The car must be a hired car. It’s driving away again.’
    This was true, and it was a circumstance that seemed to Appleby to negative the notion of an expostulating policeman. Whoever had simply been dropped at the front door of Ledward at such an hour plainly proposed to spend the rest of the night there. For the first time, Appleby found himself positively inclining to the view that Beddoes Snodgrass’ dream was about to realize itself. But this only strengthened his own resolution to depart. So he once more rose, and this time advanced upon Professor Snodgrass with an outstretched hand.
    ‘It has been a great pleasure to call upon you,’ he said in what he hoped was a virtually hypnotic tone. ‘But I must not intrude upon your family occasion. In fact, I will leave by the terrace. What a splendid port that is! Good night.’
    ‘My dear fellow, must you go?’ The Professor, to Appleby’s relief, appeared to be politely masking surprise, and had even extended his own hand. ‘Do drop in on me at my own place at any time. No point in standing on ceremony with a new neighbour, eh?’
    ‘I shall be delighted,’ Appleby said mendaciously, and made for the french window. It was perhaps because he was so