"Don't be silly. What's liking got to do with it? Because the Royal Hoo more or less belongs to the Porphyry family, of course."

"That more or less?" asked Joe.

"I don't know the precise details," said Butcher. "Just what I picked up when researching the family background. Know your enemy, Joe. You never can tell when some little detail might come in useful in court."

Joe shuddered at the thought of finding himself on the wrong end of Butcher in a courtroom. Not even Young Fair Gods were safe.

He said, "OK, give me the history lesson, long as you're not charging."

"I'll put it on your slate," she said. "Back in the twenties, one of the Porphyrys was so hooked on golf he built a course on an outlying stretch of the family estate known as the Royal Hoo because, according to tradition, King Charles had been hidden there in a peasant's hut during the Civil War."

"And he was anonymous, so they called it Hoo?"

"Funny. I hope. No, it's called Hoo because that's what hoo means: a spur of land. At first it was for private use only, by invitation from the family. Then the war came and the course got plowed up. When peace broke out, and the UK was once more a land fit for golfers, the old gang of chums and hangers-on started pestering Porphyry to have the course refurbished. Only this was a new Porphyry, your boy's grandfather, I'd guess, and he was commercially a lot sharper and didn't see why he should pick up all the tabs. He insisted a proper company be formed and the Royal Hoo Golf Club as we know it-everyone, that is, except you-came into being."

"With the Porphyrys still in control?"

"Don't know the contractual details, but I'd guess they kept a controlling interest. People like them don't give their land away, free gratis and for nothing," she said grimly.

"So, with Christian's backing, Willie looks like a cert for membership? Good for him, if that's what he wants."