mischievously. ‘Any virtues?’
‘Please, Robert. Not before lunch. The very thought of the fellow makes one quite faint. Tozer, some more medicinal champagne, if you will be so kind.’
Revived by several more sips, he looked seriously at Amiss. ‘You must forgive one’s emotion at the very mention of that’ – he paused – ‘that hobbledehoy. But America matters to us on this journal. We care about it and take seriously our role in guiding it on a wiser path.
‘The Empire is dead, the Commonwealth beyond rescuing and Europe doesn’t speak English. But though we don’t have a big sale in America, we have an influential circulation among colonial brethren who draw from us intellectual and moral succour. It is our duty to continue to give them a lead in standing up against the barbarians, who have breached the walls of Washington.’
Lunch was light but expensive. The overheads, thought Amiss, must be horrendous, for there was a cook as well as a butler. They started with a spinach soufflé, accompanied by what Lambie Crump described as ‘a rather decent little Montrachet’. Dover sole, asparagus and tiny new potatoes followed, and although Lambie Crump and Amiss both refused the Stilton, in aroma and texture it was of a quality that would have made the baroness swoon lustfully. When they had finished their coffee – served in tiny and exquisite china – Lambie Crump looked at his watch and crumpled up his linen napkin. ‘Let us inspect the minions.’
Amiss – who was by now very tired of listening to Lambie Crump disparaging the intellect and the principles of apparently every politician and editor in London – jumped to his feet eagerly.
‘We’ll start with the playroom.’ Lambie Crump threw open the door leading off the dining room. A missile flew through the open door and hit Amiss painfully on the side of the head. He stumbled and fell, bleeding copiously.
‘Tozer, quick. Move him. He’s ruining the rug.’
‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I think this might be more efficacious.’ Combining humanity with practicality, Tozer lifted Amiss’s head gently, turned his wounded side uppermost and placed on it a capacious napkin. ‘Just stay there for a moment, sir, and try to hold this to your ear. I’ll go and fetch the first-aid kit.’
Obediently Amiss clasped the napkin to his throbbing ear and lay supine. Above him he could hear a distressed elderly voice squeaking: ‘It was Lloyd George I was aiming at, sir. Lloyd George. I do beg the gentleman’s pardon, sir. My aim went completely.’
‘Don’t vex yourself, Ricketts,’ said Lambie Crump. ‘You must not fret over this slight mishap. I’m sure Mr Amiss will recover swiftly. Go now, and perhaps we may pay you a visit later on.’
The quavering voice faded into the distance as Tozer reappeared, put his arm under Amiss’s shoulders, gently and efficiently mopped his ear with a damp cloth and then firmly affixed sticking plaster. ‘All right now, sir?’
‘Thank you,’ said Amiss faintly.
As Lambie Crump gazed on with little sign of concern, Tozer helped Amiss to his feet. Amiss staggered for the first few paces and then steadied himself. ‘Thank you very much indeed, Mr Tozer. I feel fine now.’
Lambie Crump looked him up and down. ‘Your shirt is soiled,’ he said with distaste. ‘And your coat, too, it would seem. Tozer?’
‘Allow me, sir.’ Tozer rubbed Amiss’s front diligently for a minute or two. ‘Sorry, sir. That is the best I can do while you are actually wearing the garments.’
‘Oh, it will have to do,’ said Lambie Crump impatiently. ‘Can you continue now? Have you pulled yourself together?’
‘Yes, I’m OK now. Sorry for collapsing like that, Willie. It was a bit of a shock.’
‘Well, as long as you’ve stopped bleeding, we can recommence.’
‘Yes, I think it’s stopped. It was just a nick.’
‘Good, good. Let’s get on now.’
‘Just before we do, Willie. What exactly