My wife sticks up for him because she was at school with his mother, but of all the decadent useless young Jackanapes he wants his behind kicked.
He's taken that cottage on the Lansham Road you know, ghastly modern bit of building.
He has parties there shrieking, noisy crowds and he has girls down for the weekend."
"Girls?"
"Yes, there was one last week one of these platinum blondes." The colonel's jaw dropped.
"A platinum blonde, eh?" said Melchett reflectively.
"Yes.
I say, Melchett, you don't think..."
The chief constable said briskly,
"It's a possibility.
It accounts for a girl of this type being in St Mary Mead.
I think I'll run along and have a word with this young fellow - Braid - Blake - what did you say his name was?"
"Blake. Basil Blake."
"Will he be at home, do you know?" asked Melchett.
"Let me see, what's today?
Saturday?
Usually gets here some time Saturday morning."
Melchett said grimly, "We'll see if we can find him."
Chapter 8
Basil Blake's cottage, which consisted of all modern conveniences enclosed in a hideous shell of half timbering and sham Tudor, was known to the postal authorities and to William Booker, Builder, as
"Chatsworth"; to Basil and his friends as
"The Period Piece"; and to the village of St Mary Mead at large as "Mr Booker's new house."
It was little more than a quarter of a mile from the village proper, being situated on a new building estate that had been bought by the enterprising Mr Booker just beyond the Blue Boar, with frontage on what had been a particularly unspoiled country lane. Gossington Hall was about a mile farther on along the same road.
Lively interest had been aroused in St Mary Mead when the news went round that "Mr Booker's new house" had been bought by a film star.
Eager watch was kept for the first appearance of the legendary creature in the village, and it may be said that as far as appearances went Basil Blake was all that could be asked for.
Little by little, however, the real facts leaked out.
Basil Blake was not a film star, not even a film actor.
He was a very junior person, rejoicing in the position of about fifteenth in the list of those responsible for set decorations at Lenville Studios, headquarters of British New Era Films.
The village maidens lost interest and the ruling class of censorious spinsters took exception to Basil Blake's way of life.
Only the landlord of the Blue Boar continued to be enthusiastic about Basil and Basil's friends. The revenues of the Blue Boar had increased since the young man's arrival in the place.
The police car stopped outside the distorted rustic gate of Mr Booker's fancy, and Colonel Melchett, with a glance of distaste at the excessive half timbering of Chatsworth, strode up to the front door and attacked it briskly with the knocker.
It was opened much more promptly than he had expected.
A young man with straight, somewhat long black hair, wearing orange corduroy trousers and a royal-blue shirt, snapped out,
"Well, what do you want?"
"Are you Mr Basil Blake?"
"Of course I am."
"I should be glad to have a few words with you if I may, Mr Blake."
"Who are you?"
"I am Colonel Melchett, the chief constable of the county."
Mr Blake said insolently,
"You don't say so.
How amusing."
And Colonel Melchett, following the other in, understood precisely what Colonel Bantry's reactions had been. The toe of his own boot itched.
Containing himself, however, he said, with an attempt to speak pleasantly,
"You're an early riser, Mr Blake."
"Not at all.
I haven't been to bed yet."
"Indeed?"
"But I don't suppose you've come here to inquire into my hours of bed-going, or if you have it's rather a waste of the county's time and money.
What is it you want to speak to me about?"