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evidence of class disparity’, the bathroom held treasures of Victorian plumbing. Mahogany fittings surrounded the bath, the water-closet and the toilet pan. There was a huge stained mirror above the washbasin, a bell pull, a large radiator-cum-towel-rack, and a cupboard containing a number of enormous towels. But it was the bath itself, or rather the array of taps, dials and levers to one side, which fascinated him most. It was a remarkably large bath, deep-sided and fashioned like afour-poster bed with a canopy above and some sort of waterproof curtains draped along the side. Yapp leant across the bath and read the gauges. One was a temperature indicator, another gave details of water pressure, while the third, which was larger than the others, had a lever and a dial with a series of settings engraved on it. Yapp sat down on the edge of the bath to read them better and for one horrid moment felt himself slipping sideways. He leapt off and regarded the bath suspiciously. The damned thing had definitely moved. And as he watched it tilted back to the horizontal again.
    Odd. Yapp reached out cautiously and pushed the mahogany surround down. The bath remained stationary. Not wishing to risk disturbing the thing again he knelt on the floor and peered across at the dial with the lever and arrow. At one end of the scale he read WAVE and at the other end STEAM . In between these two rather alarming commands – and now that he came to think of it the lever and dial reminded him of the engine-room signals he had seen in films of ships’ bridges – there were others. WAVE was followed by SWELL only to revert to STRONG WAVE then NEUTRAL and finally three sorts of JET, STRONG, MEDIUM and SLIGHT . It was all very fascinating and for a moment Yapp considered having a bath and trying what was evidently a quite remarkable example of early automation applied to domestic plumbing, and one which demonstrated the Imperialist obsession with naval supremacy, the Suez canal, trade routes and India. But it was already past six and after making a note of thiscomment in the diary he invariably carried when out of touch with Doris, he decided against it. Instead he made a sketch of the contraption, measured its dimensions and recorded the various settings on the dial. Finally, when he had finished and was about to leave, his eye caught sight of a faded yellow paper in a glass frame on the wall next to the washbasin. It was a set of instructions for use with THE SYNCHRONIZED ABLUTION BATH . Yapp glanced through them and noted that WAVE MOTION application required the Level Of Water In The Bath to be two-thirds when combined with the Displacement . . . The rest of the sentence had been eroded by steam and time.
    He went through the bedroom and down the corridor to the stairs. Croxley was waiting for him in the study but his form of condescension had altered. He was wearing a sports jacket with flannels, a woollen shirt and knitted tie and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
    ‘You needn’t have bothered,’ said Yapp rather testily.
    ‘We like to make our visitors feel at home,’ said Croxley, who had been ordered by Lord Petrefact to put on something casual.
    ‘I’m not likely to feel at home in this place. It’s more like a palace and it ought to be a museum.’
    ‘As a matter of fact for most of the year it is,’ said Croxley and opened a door. ‘After you.’
    Yapp went through and was surprised to find himself back in the present. The drawing room was as unostentatiously comfortable as the rest of the house was the opposite. A russet carpet covered the floor, a colourtelevision flickered in a corner, there was a wood fire burning in a stainless-steel hearth and in front of it a low table and a large modern sofa.
    ‘Help yourself to a drink,’ said Croxley, indicating a cabinet in the corner. ‘I’ll fetch the old man.’
    Left to himself, Yapp looked round in amazement. The walls were covered with modern art. Klee, Hockney, a Matisse,