Finally had come Mayfair Modes. It was not the sort of job Jane had ever imagined herself doing - but she had been getting desperate. Almost from the first, however, she had known she wouldn't stick it long. In a way the blow-up with Bottway had come as a relief - even though she had put herself in a terrible stew financially.

But she wouldn't think of that this weekend. She was going to enjoy herself, pretend she was accustomed to ease and plenty and forget that in a few days she'd have to start looking for a job again.

It would be good to be back at Alderley. Like going home. Her visits there, and her friendship with the family, had been the one unchanging feature of her life. And, thank heaven, the weather had cleared up. After a long hot spell it had rained heavily that morning and Jane had feared that a wet period had set in; but now it was lovely again, and all the fresher for the rain. Jane stared out of the window and watched the city give way to suburbs, and the suburbs in their turn to soft green meadows.

When at last the train puffed into Alderley Halt, Jane heaved her two small cases down from the rack, jumped out, and, without waiting for a porter, ran awkwardly with them to the barrier. She stopped, and glanced back; she wanted to see who else alighted. Two men were getting down from a first class compartment. Jane gave a puzzled frown, then her face changed, as from another compartment the figure of Algernon Fotheringay emerged. He was wearing a blazer in two-inch wide red and yellow stripes and the most voluminous plus-fours Jane had ever seen. She turned and hurried out to the sleepy station yard.

Lord Burford's Rolls Royce was waiting there, the liveried figure of the chauffeur Hawkins, an old ally of Jane from her schoolgirl days, standing beside it. Jane walked across. 'Hullo, Hawkins.'

Hawkins touched his cap and permitted himself a discreet smile of welcome. 'Good afternoon, Miss Jane.' He came forward and took her cases from her.

'How are you, Hawkins?'

'Nicely, thank you, miss.'

'Hawkins, who were you expecting to meet?'

'Yourself and three gentlemen, miss: two foreign gentlemen - Mr. Adler and Mr. Felman - and Mr. Fotheringay.'

'They'll be out in a minute. I think I'd prefer to walk. I'll take the short cut. Tell her ladyship I'm on my way, will you?'

'Very good, miss.'

Carrying just her bag, Jane started off briskly. The station was about a quarter of a mile from the quaint, old-world village of Alderley itself. Jane walked along the single street, passing the Rose & Crown, Jenkins's Garage, and the half dozen shops, and out the other side onto a quiet country lane. Shortly she came to a stile on the left. She clambered over it and set out across the field along a footpath - just as the Rolls passed along the lane behind her.

Five minutes later Jane topped a rise, climbed over a low wall that marked the boundary of the Burford estate, and looked down on one of her favourite sights - Alderley itself, solid and serene, flanked by its outbuildings and surrounded by the tree-dotted park, the lake, which at one point came within thirty yards of the house, the beech copse, and the home farm half a mile beyond. All was spread out below her like a perfect miniature model, and Jane just stood looking down in sheer pleasure.

From here the house, which was built basically in the form of three sides of a rectangle, looked like a reversed capital E with the centre bar missing. It was three storeys tall, but outwards from both top and bottom bars of the E - the east and west wings - a two-storey extension projected.

Jane started down the slope.