“Quite, quite, Mrs. B. Yes, indeed.” Archie’s twitching nose sent his mustache into a brief, lopsided angle. “I did want a word with you, however, if I may be so bold?”

Cecily suppressed a sigh. “Of course, Mr. Parker.”

“Archie, please.”

He looked so anxious she hurried to reassure him. “Archie, then. How may I be of assistance?”

His gaze switched to the corner where the grandfather clock resided. “Well, I was… er… wondering if you’d be interested in any of my wares. I’m a medical salesman, you know. In the great city of London.” He coughed, bringing a pudgy hand to his mouth. “Yes, indeed.”

Having been informed of that on more than one occasion, by Archie himself no less, Cecily had trouble hiding her irritation. “So you have mentioned. I believe I have already explained about my friend, Mrs. Prestwick? She is an herbalist, and supplies all my needs.”

As on all the previous occasions when she had mentioned Madeline’s penchant for herbal remedies, Archie managed to convey his disgust with a slight toss of his practically bald head. “Don’t believe in all that weeds and herbs stuff myself. You never know what you’re swallowing. Could be poison for all we know.” He uttered a nervous laugh. “Now on the other hand, these little pills”-he withdrew a small bottle from his pocket-“best thing for the digestion you ever did see.” He waved the bottle in her face.

“My digestion is in quite good order, thank you.” Still holding on to her smile by sheer willpower, she started to move away, but Archie slithered in front of her again. “What about regularity? Have any problems with that?”

Cecily paused, her smile vanishing. “Mr. Parker, I really must insist that you not use this establishment for soliciting. If I find out that you have been harassing the guests with attempts to sell-”