'Good morning,' she said. 'Are you coming to live here or are you visiting?'

'I'm visiting,' said Tuppence. 'I have an aunt here. My husband's with her now. We thought perhaps two people at once was rather too much.'

'That was very thoughtful of you,' said the old lady. She took a sip of milk appreciatively. 'I wonder-no, I think it's quite all right. Wouldn't you like something? Some tea or some coffee perhaps? Let me ring the bell. They're very obliging here.'

'No thank you,' said Tuppence, 'really.'

'Or a glass of milk perhaps. It's not poisoned today.'

'No, no, not even that. We shan't be stopping very much longer.'

'Well, if you're quite sure-but it wouldn't be any trouble, you know. Nobody ever thinks anything is any trouble here. Unless, I mean, you ask for something quite impossible.'

'I daresay the aunt we're visiting sometimes asks for quite impossible things,' said Tuppence. 'She's a Miss Fanshawe,' she added.

'Oh, Miss Fanshawe,' said the old lady. 'Oh yes.'

Something seemed to be restraining her but Tuppence said cheerfully, 'She's rather a tartar, I should imagine. She always has been.'

'Oh, yes indeed she is. I used to have an aunt myself, you know, who was very like that, especially as she grew older. But we're all quite fond of Miss Fanshawe. She can be very, very amusing if she likes. About people, you know.'

'Yes, I daresay she could be,' said Tuppence. She reflected a moment or two, considering Aunt Ada in this new light.

'Very acid,' said the old lady. 'My name is Lancaster, by the way, Mrs. Lancaster.'

'My name's Beresford,' said Tuppence.

'I'm afraid, you know, one does enjoy a bit of malice now and then. Her descriptions of some of the other guests here, and the things she says about them. Well, you know, one oughtn't, of course, to find it funny but one does.'