Sir Humphrey looked over the top of his glasses. "You should not encourage your friend to talk disloyally about her brother, Felicity," he said.

"He's only a "step"," Felicity said impenitently. "And pretty moth-eaten at that. However, Joan's managed to smooth him down over the frock. I expect he's comforting himself with the thought that he won't have to support her at all much longer."

"Do you mean to tell me that you've been all this time telephoning to one person?" interrupted Frank. "Yes, of course. Why not? I say, by the way, Joan says she tried to make Basil be Mephistopheles, because of her and Tony being Marguerite and Faust, only he wouldn't. Rather fortunate. I told her I was bringing one who really looks the part. She was thrilled."

"Do you mind elucidating this mystery?" said Frank. "It's beginning to get on my nerves. Who is Basil?"

Joan's step-brother, idiot."

"I had gathered that. Is he the present owner of the manor?"

"Yes, of course. He inherited everything when old Mr. Fountain popped off."

Sir Humphrey again looked up, mildly pained. "Died, my dear."

"All right, Daddy. Died. He was Mr. Fountain's nephew, and as Mr. Fountain hadn't got any children of his own, he was the heir. Quite simple."

"Oh yes, jasper Fountain had children of his own," interposed her mother. "That is to say, one. He died about three years ago. I remember seeing the notice in The Times."

Felicity was faintly surprised. "I never heard of any son. Are you sure, Mummy?"

"Perfectly, darling. He was an extremely unsatisfactory young man and went to South America."

"Africa, my dear," corrected Sir Humphrey from behind the paper.