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…,” said Raymond, and the man’s gaze fixed on him. “You wish to apply for the butler’s job?”
    “Yes. I saw your advertisement in the newspaper.”
    “And what training and experience do you have?” Raymond asked.
    “I … er … don’t have any formal training … as such,” the man faltered. Raymond waited for him to go on, but he didn’t.
    “I see,” said Raymond eventually.
    “I could not help but notice the … er … reinforced vehicle on the grass,” the man remarked, looking out the window, when the silence became embarrassing.
    Raymond smiled. “It does look rather imposing there, doesn’t it? It seems to scare away trespassers better than any guard dog!”
    “I expect it would.”
    “It’s a genuine First World War tank,” Raymond continued. “Actually saw service in France, would you believe?”
    “It must be rare to own one of those.”
    “Yes, but I’ve had it a long time, you see!” Raymond told him. “Many museums have approached me, but I won’t sell it to them.”
    “You cannot put a price on something like that.”
    “No, indeed,” said Raymond. “No, no, indeed.” He chuckled. “So, you are interested in weaponry, are you, Mr. Field?” he asked.
    “It is … yes … fascinating. Though I don’t know much about it.”
    “I’ve built up some knowledge over the years,” Raymond said, gesturing to the cases around the room. “And quite a collection too.”
    “May I?” the man asked, rising.
    “Certainly.”
    Each of the weapons lay in its case on glistening red velvet and was labeled with a card as if it was a museum exhibit. “So these were made much earlier than the … er … First World War …,” Arthur ventured.
    “Of course!” Raymond exclaimed. “These are all swords, daggers, and rapiers in this room, from the sixteenth century to the early nineteenth.” He went to stand beside Arthur, who was looking into the largest case.
    “This is my particular favorite,” said Raymond. “A gentleman’srapier, which I’m pretty sure is Spanish, and it’s in remarkably good condition, don’t you think?”
    “Yes.”
    “I rather like the decoration on the hilt,” Raymond continued. “That’s a fine example of the cup hilt, and it’s a Toledo blade. I’ve always wanted to know for sure if it was Spanish, or an imitation.”
    “Are there experts who could tell you that?”
    “I’m sure there are—though I’ve never really asked anyone. I tend to keep my collection a secret. You never know what a con man might try if he wanted to find out about valuable weapons.”
    “Would someone really steal antique weapons?” the man asked.
    “Oh yes,” said Raymond, with bitter triumph. “Oh yes, they would. Only a couple of months ago, nearly my entire collection of firearms was stolen. You must have noticed the empty cases in the hall.”
    “I did.” The man frowned at Raymond, his eyes intense. “A misfortune indeed.”
    “I was sad to lose them,” said Raymond.
    “And have you been able to trace the thieves?”
    “No … the police have had no luck as yet. It’s my belief the criminals have smuggled the weapons into another country, but the police don’t think so.”
    “Well, it would not be easy. Surely controls are tight.”
    “I would have thought so. I don’t know how they’d have done it. But if they were determined enough, they’d have managed.”
    “How many of these weapons were stolen?”
    “I had fifty-seven rifles and twelve pistols, as well as a Victorianrevolver. Of them, fifty-three were stolen, and one of the most valuable ones was knocked to the floor and broken. The ones they left were the oldest.”
    “That is odd.”
    “Yes. Here’s the strange thing: there was evidence of someone entering this room. They found fingerprints. Yet they took nothing from here. And I know that a good many of these pieces are more valuable than the guns were.”
    “Perhaps they wanted the weapons themselves, not the