treatment. 'I'm afraid
you'll have to do without me. Dentist's orders,' he explained thickly to the Headmaster. 'Not
allowed to sing for the time being.'
'Dear me, well we'll just have to do our best in your absence,' said the Headmaster, with the
later comment to his wife that at least they couldn't do worse.
Next day, Wanderby's lost letter was found, rather muddied, in the flowerbed outside the
Secretary's office and the postman was blamed.
By the end of term, Slymne had completed his preliminary preparations. He had collected the
envelopes and notepaper and had deposited most of them in a locked tin box at his mother's house
in Ramsgate for the time being. He had renewed his passport and taken out travellers' cheques.
While the rest of the staff dispersed for the Easter holidays, Mr Slymne took the cross-Channel
ferry to Boulogne and hired a car. From there he drove to the Belgian frontier before turning
south at a small border crossing near Armentières. The place was carefully chosen. Even Slymne
had memories of old men croaking 'Mademoiselle d' Armentières, parlez-vous?' in remembrance of
their happy days of slaughter in the First World War, and the name would arouse just the right
outdated emotions he required in Glodstone. So must the route. Slymne stopped frequently to
consult his maps and the guidebooks to find some picturesque way through this industrial
grimness, but finally gave up. Anyway, it would heighten the romance of the wooded roads and
valleys further south and the slag-heaps and coal-mines had the advantage of lending the route a
very convincing reality. If one wanted to enter France unobserved, this was the way to come. And
so Slymne kept to side roads, well away from autoroutes and big towns during his daytime driving,
only moving into a hotel in a city at night. All the time he made notes and made sure he was
maintaining the spirit of Glodstone's reading without bringing him too closely in touch with the
real world.
For that reason he avoided Rouen and crossed the Seine by a bridge further south, but indulged
himself on Route 836 down the Eure before back-tracking to Ivry-la-Bataille and noting an hotel
there and its telephone number. After that, another diversion by way of Houdan and Faverolles to
Nogent-Le-Roi and Chartres. He was hesitant about Chartres, but one look at the Cathedral
reassured him. Yes, Chartres would inspire Glodstone. And what about Château Renault just off the
road to Tours? It had been four miles outside Château Renault that Mansel and Chandos had gassed
Brevet in his own car. Slymne decided against it and chose the minor road to Meung-sur-Loire as
being more discreetly surreptitious. He would have to impress on Glodstone the danger of crossing
rivers in big towns. Slymne made a note 'Bridge bound to be watched,' in his notebook and drove
on.
It took him ten days to plan the route and, to be on the safe side, he stayed clear of the
countryside round the Château Carmagnac with one exception. On the tenth night he drove to the
little town of Boosat and posted two letters in separate boxes. To be precise, he posted
envelopes, each with a crest on the back and with his own address typed onto a self-adhesive
label on the front. Then he turned north and retraced his route to Boulogne, checking each mark
he had made on his maps against the comments in his notebook and adding more information.
By the time he sailed for Folkestone, Mr Slymne was proud of his work. There were some
advantages to be had from a degree in geography after all. And the two envelopes were waiting for
him at his mother's house. With the utmost care, he prised off the self-adhesive labels and
steamed open the lightly gummed flaps. Then he set to work with an ink-pad to obliterate the date
on the postmark while leaving Boosat clearly visible. For the next three days, he pored over the
photograph of the Comtesse's letter to
you'll have to do without me. Dentist's orders,' he explained thickly to the Headmaster. 'Not
allowed to sing for the time being.'
'Dear me, well we'll just have to do our best in your absence,' said the Headmaster, with the
later comment to his wife that at least they couldn't do worse.
Next day, Wanderby's lost letter was found, rather muddied, in the flowerbed outside the
Secretary's office and the postman was blamed.
By the end of term, Slymne had completed his preliminary preparations. He had collected the
envelopes and notepaper and had deposited most of them in a locked tin box at his mother's house
in Ramsgate for the time being. He had renewed his passport and taken out travellers' cheques.
While the rest of the staff dispersed for the Easter holidays, Mr Slymne took the cross-Channel
ferry to Boulogne and hired a car. From there he drove to the Belgian frontier before turning
south at a small border crossing near Armentières. The place was carefully chosen. Even Slymne
had memories of old men croaking 'Mademoiselle d' Armentières, parlez-vous?' in remembrance of
their happy days of slaughter in the First World War, and the name would arouse just the right
outdated emotions he required in Glodstone. So must the route. Slymne stopped frequently to
consult his maps and the guidebooks to find some picturesque way through this industrial
grimness, but finally gave up. Anyway, it would heighten the romance of the wooded roads and
valleys further south and the slag-heaps and coal-mines had the advantage of lending the route a
very convincing reality. If one wanted to enter France unobserved, this was the way to come. And
so Slymne kept to side roads, well away from autoroutes and big towns during his daytime driving,
only moving into a hotel in a city at night. All the time he made notes and made sure he was
maintaining the spirit of Glodstone's reading without bringing him too closely in touch with the
real world.
For that reason he avoided Rouen and crossed the Seine by a bridge further south, but indulged
himself on Route 836 down the Eure before back-tracking to Ivry-la-Bataille and noting an hotel
there and its telephone number. After that, another diversion by way of Houdan and Faverolles to
Nogent-Le-Roi and Chartres. He was hesitant about Chartres, but one look at the Cathedral
reassured him. Yes, Chartres would inspire Glodstone. And what about Château Renault just off the
road to Tours? It had been four miles outside Château Renault that Mansel and Chandos had gassed
Brevet in his own car. Slymne decided against it and chose the minor road to Meung-sur-Loire as
being more discreetly surreptitious. He would have to impress on Glodstone the danger of crossing
rivers in big towns. Slymne made a note 'Bridge bound to be watched,' in his notebook and drove
on.
It took him ten days to plan the route and, to be on the safe side, he stayed clear of the
countryside round the Château Carmagnac with one exception. On the tenth night he drove to the
little town of Boosat and posted two letters in separate boxes. To be precise, he posted
envelopes, each with a crest on the back and with his own address typed onto a self-adhesive
label on the front. Then he turned north and retraced his route to Boulogne, checking each mark
he had made on his maps against the comments in his notebook and adding more information.
By the time he sailed for Folkestone, Mr Slymne was proud of his work. There were some
advantages to be had from a degree in geography after all. And the two envelopes were waiting for
him at his mother's house. With the utmost care, he prised off the self-adhesive labels and
steamed open the lightly gummed flaps. Then he set to work with an ink-pad to obliterate the date
on the postmark while leaving Boosat clearly visible. For the next three days, he pored over the
photograph of the Comtesse's letter to
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