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Updated: May 31, 2025
In a flash he had compared her, in this boudoir, with Lady Massulam in Lady Massulam's bungalow. In a flash all the queer, frightening romance of 2 a.m. in Frinton had swept through his mind. Well, she had not the imposingness nor the mystery of Lady Massulam, nor perhaps the challenge of Lady Massulam; she was very much more prosaic to him.
"You don't mean Frinton-on-Sea?" exclaimed Miss Ingate, suddenly excited. "It is on the sea," said Jane. "We have to go through Colchester. Do you know it?" "Do I know it!" repeated Miss Ingate. "I know everybody in Frinton, except the Germans. When I'm at home I buy my bacon at Frinton. Are you going to an hotel there?" "No," said Jane. "To some people named Spatt."
Obviously he had not, since according to Aguilar he had been in the vicinity of Moze since the previous morning. Hence he did not know that Audrey was involved in the Blue City affair, and he did not know that Jane Foley was at Frinton. How he had learnt that Audrey belonged to Moze, and why and what he had come to investigate at Moze, she could not guess.
Prohack was cast loose in the booking-hall and had a fine novel sensation of freedom. Never since marriage had he taken a holiday alone never desired to do so. He felt himself to be on the edge of romance. Frinton, for example, presented itself as a city of romance.
Up and down various long and infinitely correct avenues of sheltered homes drove Mr. Prohack, and was everywhere baffled in his human desire to meet Frinton half-way. He stopped the car at the Post Office and telegraphed to his wife: "No strawberry jam in this city. Love. Arthur." The girl behind the counter said: "One and a penny, please," and looked hard at him.
Prohack had to explain why he was at Frinton, and Lady Massulam explained that whenever she was in Frinton at the week-end she always came to the Majestic to play bridge with old Lord Partick.
After two hours the train, greatly diminished in length, came to rest in the midst of a dark flatness, and the entire population of the coach vanished out of it in the twinkling of an eye, and Mr. Prohack saw the name 'Frinton' on a flickering oil-lamp, and realised that he was at the gates of the most fashionable resort in England, a spot where even the ozone was exclusive.
"I understand," said the Home Secretary, "that this man Lyndon is actually here." With a graceful gesture Lord Lammersfield indicated where I was standing. "Let me introduce you to each other," he said. "Mr. Neil Lyndon Sir George Frinton." I bowed respectfully, and when I raised my head again I saw that the Home Secretary was contemplating me with a puzzled stare.
Hence Audrey, who was in essence his mother, and who knew Frinton as some people know London, had said that she would go and look for him. Mr. Spatt, ever chivalrous, had impulsively offered to accompany her. He could indeed do no less. Mrs. Spatt, overwhelmed by the tragic sequel to her innocent triumphant, had retired to the first floor.
It will be my pleasant duty as Home Secretary to see that every possible reparation is made to you for the great injustice that you have suffered." Lammersfield, who had gone back to his seat at the table, again interrupted. "You agree with me, don't you, Frinton, that, pending any steps you and the Prime Minister choose to take in the matter, Mr. Lyndon may consider himself a free man?"
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