The Last Houseparty Read Online Free Page A

came.”
    â€œIt must be terrible when it goes wrong,” she said.
    â€œNobody knows. Vincent is always trying to get a look at it but McGrigor won’t let anyone into the tower. It stops. Uncle Snailwood sends for McGrigor. He says it can’t be mended. Uncle Snailwood says he’ll write to the clock specialists. McGrigor says ‘Wait’—he’ll see what he can do. Next day it’s going again.”
    â€œHe just hangs another half hundredweight of scrap iron on the weights,” said Vincent. “You can hear—it oughtn’t to groan like that. He must be making merry hay with the rods and bearings—some day soon it’ll pack in c-completely.”
    â€œOh, I remember,” said Mrs Dubigny. “Vincent’s the mechanical one.”
    â€œThat’s right. And I’m the human one,” said Harry.
    â€œI didn’t mean that!”
    â€œIt’s true—you’ve only got to see him playing a ball game—he’s so damn accurate he has to be a robot. Flesh and blood hasn’t a chance.”
    â€œHarry guh … guh … guh …” began Vincent.
    â€œWho is everybody, Mrs Dubigny?” said Harry firmly.
    â€œWho? Oh, you mean the everybody who’s coming. All sorts. This is my first real Zena do, you know. The main thing is she’s going to settle the Palestine question.”
    â€œOh lor!” said Vincent.
    â€œThat should be interesting,” said Harry. “Who’s she got for that?”
    â€œThe list’s in my office.”
    â€œSame as Nan used to have?”
    â€œI believe so.”
    â€œRight. Soon as I’ve unpacked. Want me to sketch it out for you, Vince? You’ll be expected to come up with the army line, no doubt.”
    â€œThere’s a Brigadier Trotman coming,” said Mrs Dubigny. “He’s just back.”
    â€œOho! Quite a big fish,” said Harry. “Who’s she got batting for the Yids?”
    â€œSomebody called Professor Blech.”
    â€œHas she now?”
    Harry had begun to smile with eagerness, like a child who has prepared a practical joke and is waiting to see his victim spring the trap. He made a move to fetch his cases.
    â€œAnd then there’s an Arab prince,” said Mrs Dubigny. “Yasif ibn Sorah—hope I’ve pronounced it right.”
    â€œOh, I know him,” said Vincent, clearly astonished. “If it’s the same fellow—I played against him in the Harrow Match.”
    â€œProbably his father,” said Harry. “They all have the same name.”
    â€œNo, it’s the son,” said Mrs Dubigny. “In fact Zena invited him in Vincent’s name—that was why it was so important to have Vincent staying. My general grasped the point at once.”
    Vincent went red, but when Harry began a raucous and explosive laugh he joined in as if from habit.
    â€œCome on,” said Harry. “Or we’ll have to stay and let Mrs Dubigny see the half-hour strike.”
    â€œI like Summer best of all,” said Mrs Dubigny.
    By the time Vincent had loaded himself with his case and all his sports gear the other two had started towards the house and he needed to lope to catch them up.
    â€œâ€¦ school clock,” Harry was saying. “Sometimes it used to go bonkers. According to my mother there was an episode in my dad’s day when a visiting preacher insisted on working it into his sermon—you know, the usual sort of thing, we’d get ’em at least once a half, old buffers absolutely besotted about Eton, pretty embarrassing sometimes. Anyway there was everyone sitting in College Chapel while the chap orated on …”
    He deepened his voice and infused it with breathy pomp. The cloister arches, under which they were now moving, returned ecclesiastical echoes.
    â€œâ€¦ and we know that this great institution will continue to do its work and send out the