So I showed them the house. She said: “What I could do with this!”

We had come to the very top. There was one room which was reached by a short staircase.

“What’s up there?” asked Frances.

“That’s my uncle’s study. It’s out of bounds. No one is allowed up there. Only my Aunt Amaryllis goes in to clean it.”

“She cleans it!”

“Yes. He won’t allow anyone else to go in. He says servants disturb things. Only Aunt Amaryllis is allowed in. She goes twice a week to clean it.”

“How very odd! There must be something very important up there.”

“Oh, it is only his files and papers and things. It’s always kept locked. Along here are the attics … the servants’ quarters.”

We went downstairs and were soon talking of the coronation and what difference a new queen would make to the country.

I was awake when Helena came in from the ball.

I sat up in bed and looked at her. She was positively radiant.

“Well,” I said.

“Everything was wonderful. The Duke and Duchess were there. They received me most graciously. Papa and Mama were with them. They are all delighted. It’s all right, Annora. It’s settled. I’m officially engaged to John. It will be announced in the papers in a day or so. I think there’ll be an early wedding. It was hinted that there would be … as soon as all the settlements and things have been arranged. Annora, you must stay for my wedding.”

“How exciting! It is like a fairy story.”

“The ugly duckling who turned into a swan.”

“No, the princess who didn’t know how beautiful she was until her lover came and told her so.”

“Oh. Annora, you say the nicest things. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve brought me luck.”

“What rubbish! You brought it all on yourself … you and your John. Now there is only one thing for you to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Live happy ever after.”

“I shall never get to sleep tonight. I don’t want to. I just want to lie here thinking about it.”

There was not much sleep for me either. I lay there listening to her telling it again … the arrival, the gracious reception from the Duke and Duchess, and everyone showing approval of the most wonderful match that ever was.

I did not get to see Frances Cresswell’s Mission then because the blow fell before that could be arranged.

It was two days after the coronation ball. When I went down to breakfast Amaryllis was there with Peterkin. They were absorbed in the morning papers.

“I wonder who it can possibly be,” Aunt Amaryllis was saying.

“It says a prominent and highly respected politician.”

“I daresay his name will soon be revealed.”

“They’ll withhold it for a while to make it more tantalising. I wonder if Papa has any idea.”

“He wouldn’t know anything about a man like that.”

“What is it all about?” I asked.

Peterkin, who was helping himself from the sideboard at that moment, said: “A real scandal. Someone is in deep trouble. What are you having, Annora? This ham is good.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He set a plate before me.

“The papers are full of it. It happened last night. This fellow has been caught with a woman of a very dubious reputation. There was a brawl in her room and another fellow … he said he was her husband … attacked him. The police were called and they were all arrested.”

“Who could it be?”

“We shall know in time.”

“I hate this sort of thing,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “It’s so bad for everyone.”

“I daresay the man in the case hates it more than you do, Mama,” said Peterkin.

“It will distress your father. It must be someone he knows of … for it says a well-known politician.”

“The seamy side of life shows itself sometime,” said Peterkin. “By the way, Annora, what about Wednesday for our trip to Frances’s Mission?”

“That will suit me very well.”

It was later in the day when the papers revealed the name of the man about whom, by this time, everyone was talking.

I heard the paper boys calling out in the streets and ran downstairs to hear what they were saying. One of the servants was already there. He was carrying a paper and his eyes looked as though they were ready to pop out of his head.

“What is it?” I cried.

“They’ve named him, miss. Would you believe it …”

“Who? Who?” I demanded.

“It’s Mr. Joseph Cresswell.”

I could not believe it. It could not possibly be true. There must be a mistake.

Aunt Amaryllis was very upset. She kept saying: “It’s a misprint. They have the wrong name. Not that nice, kind, clever Mr. Cresswell. It must be another Cresswell.”

We were all sure there must have been some mistake, and were waiting for Uncle Peter to come in and hear what his reactions were. When he arrived we all clustered round him.

He looked shaken. He reiterated what we had all said. It must be a mistake. It could not be true.

“How could they have got hold of his name?” asked Peterkin.

“The only thing I can think of is that the real culprit gave a false name. The first one he thought of was Joseph Cresswell. After all his name is well known to the public.”

Aunt Amaryllis breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course that’s the answer. Trust you to put your finger right on it, Peter.”

“I hope that’s the case,” said Uncle Peter. “But it has already done him a lot of harm.”

“But if it is proved that his name has been falsely given people will regard him more highly because he has been wronged,” I suggested.

“My dear,” said Uncle Peter, “it is only conjecture on my part.”

But it did not turn out like that. The man who had taken part in what the papers called “The Brothel Brawl” was indeed Joseph Cresswell. His story was that his carriage had knocked down a young woman in Panton Street. He had alighted to make sure she was all right and as she had appeared to be shaken he had taken her to her home. It was true that he went into her room but was not there for more than a few minutes when a man burst in and accused them of immoral conduct.

I believed the story. It seemed perfectly plausible to me. If the vehicle in which he was riding had knocked her down he would consider it only courteous to take her home. I could well imagine how it happened. Of course he took her in to make sure she was suffering from no ill effects.

What a terrible situation for him!

Chloe Kitt was the young woman; she was known to be a prostitute; she had an apartment next door to a men’s club of a not very savoury reputation; and the rooms were let out by the club usually to women of easy virtue.

The man who had burst in on them was not Chloe’s husband, only, as she said, an intimate friend.

It seemed likely that blackmail might have been the original object. It was not, after all, such an extraordinary situation. What made it so unusual, of such immense interest, was the fact that a well-known politician was involved.

The charge was breaking the peace and was to come before the magistrate’s court.

“He was a fool,” said Uncle Peter, “to go home with a girl like that.”

“He wouldn’t have seen any harm in it,” replied Aunt Amaryllis. “He was concerned because it was the carriage he was riding in which knocked her down. That was obviously why he went home with her.”

“It’s unfortunate. No matter what the outcome of all this there are going to be many who think the worst and it is worse because Joseph Cresswell has set himself up as a defender of virtue. The chairmanship of this committee … well, it is about the abolition of vice.”

“It certainly won’t go to him now,” said Peterkin.

“Hardly likely to, I should think,” agreed Uncle Peter.

“Then you …” began Aunt Amaryllis.

“Oh, my dear, don’t let’s talk about that now. This is a tragedy for Cresswell. I’d have given a lot for it not to have happened. I wouldn’t want to walk over him in such circumstances.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. But the thought came to me. I do understand. It is just how you would feel.”

He took her hand and patted it. “I know, my dear. But this is just not the time.”

“It’ll make all the difference to Joe, I expect,” said Peterkin. “I doubt whether he’ll be selected as a candidate for that by-election which is coming up. It’ll be a tragedy for the whole family unless it can be proved to be a fabrication by this Chloe. Why should she …?”

“Probably meant blackmail,” said Uncle Peter. “And they played it wrongly. They didn’t think the police would come.”

“Oh dear!” sighed Aunt Amaryllis. “How wicked some people can be! I am so sad for that nice Mrs. Cresswell … and all the family.”

I kept thinking of them as I had seen them during that happy week-end, and I too felt very sad. I wondered what effect it would have on Joe.

Peterkin said to me: “Let’s go and see Joe. I want them to know that I, for one, believe Mr. Cresswell is telling the truth.”

I was glad, for I wanted to do just that.

We walked to the house in St. James’s Street and on the way we passed several newsvendors.

“All about it,” shouted one. “Read about Chloe’s lovers,” called another.

I said: “They go on and on about it.”

“That’s how they are. If it had not been a well-known person we should have heard nothing about it.”

The blinds were drawn at the windows of the house. We went through the gate and mounted the steps past the two stone lions who stood like sentinels on either side of the door.

Several people stopped to look at us, wondering, I supposed, who we were to call at this house of shame.