Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

making her jump.
    ‘Charles here,’ said an upper-class voice. Baronet, Sir Charles Fraith.
    ‘Oh, Charles. How nice to hear from you,’ said Agatha.
    ‘I’ve been on my travels. What about a spot of dinner tonight?’
    Agatha opened her mouth to say she couldn’t make it and then her face hardened and she found herself saying, ‘That would be nice.’
    ‘Where shall we meet?’
    ‘You will come here at eight o’clock and pick me up, Charles,’ said Agatha firmly, ‘and when the bill for dinner is presented, you will not disappear to the Gents or say you forgot your wallet.’
    ‘You know me of old,’ laughed Charles. ‘See you at eight.’
    Agatha rang off and then phoned James. ‘I’m sorry I can’t see you this evening,’ she said curtly. ‘I had forgotten, I have another arrangement. Goodbye, James.’ She firmly replaced the receiver.
    So another dinner with someone younger, she thought, wearily dragging up the stairs to slap on anti-wrinkle cream.
    James Lacey took up a position at the window of his cottage which overlooked the entrance to Agatha’s. At eight o’clock, he saw Sir Charles Fraith arrive.
    Well, that’s that, he thought bitterly. He had planned to explain to Agatha over dinner that he was tired of their quarrels and that he wanted them to get back together again.
    But she didn’t deserve him, flirting around like a tart!
    The fact that Agatha Raisin did not have telepathic powers never crossed his mind.