Three to See the King

astonished that Philip could tolerate being with him. Yet here they were going about together like a couple of lifelong pals. Even their coats were identical.
    The reason the drumming sound had seemed familiar, of course, was because I’d previously heard it at Steve’s house. He found it almost impossible to sit still, so he would pass the minutes by drumming with his fingers on the table, or whatever other surface happened to be nearby. The last time I’d been to see him was to collect some sugar he’d borrowed some months earlier and hadn’t returned. He insisted that I stayed for a while, then subsequently drove me half-mad with this incessant drumming.
    When he wasn’t doing that he was rushing round making so-called improvements to his house. It was similar to mine in many respects, built entirely from tin, yet for some reason he was never quite satisfied with it. As a consequence, there was always some half-finished job under way: shutters on and off their hinges; the chimney lengthened or shortened; the stairs rebuilt. On the occasion of that last visit he’d been engaged in fixing a weathercock on the roof, a task with which I somehow became involved. I lost count of how many times I had to hold his ladder while he went up to make adjustments, but at the end of the day he still wasn’t happy with the result.
    Another thing I remembered about Steve was that he tended to leave his door open for long periods, which allowed masses of sand to be blown inside his house. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by this and traipsed it all around the place. I knew very well that Mary Petrie would frown on such carelessness, so as soon as he arrived I made a mental note to keep an eye on him.
    Philip, on the other hand, was much more of a stalwart figure who could be trusted to leave doors firmly closed. On the few occasions I’d been to his house, everything had been battened down securely against inclement weather. He had never struck me as the type who would be easily given to running round on half-baked schemes of the sort favoured by Steve. Nonetheless, the two of them seemed to get on very well together, so I didn’t question their friendship.
    As they sat there at the table, with Steve already beginning to drum his fingers, I wondered what they’d come over for. Neither of them owed me anything, nor I them, and as far as I knew they weren’t in the habit of making calls just for the sake of saying hello. That was much more in Simon Painter’s line than theirs. The only other motive I could think of for the visit was that they wanted some sort of favour. I decided, therefore, that the best course of action was to make breakfast, and let them choose their moment.
    ‘House is looking good,’ remarked Philip, as he peered around the interior.
    ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I try to keep it ship-shape.’
    ‘Hmm hmm,’ he murmured.
    ‘Probably be giving it a good spring-clean once this wind’s dropped.’
    ‘Hmm.’
    He wasn’t the most talkative of people.
    ‘How’s your place these days?’ I asked.
    ‘Same as ever,’ he answered.
    ‘Tell him about your new weathercock,’ suggested Steve.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Philip. ‘I’ve got a new weathercock.’
    For a second I thought he might expand on the subject, but instead he merely fell silent. Meanwhile his companion continued drumming on the table top. A violent gust of wind made the whole house creak, which in turn caused both of them instantly to glance towards the stairway. Then they looked expectantly in my direction, and I realized all at once why they’d come.
    ‘Everything alright?’ I asked, smiling.
    ‘Yes, yes,’ replied Steve. ‘Fine.’
    ‘OK then,’ I said. ‘I’ll start breakfast. Make yourselves at home.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    The preparations took about twenty minutes, during which time soft footsteps could be heard moving around on the upper floor. However, I gave no sign of having noticed them.
    When breakfast was almost ready I said, quite casually, ‘Would one of you mind laying the table?’
    ‘I’ll do it,’ said Steve, practically leaping to his feet.
    He went and got some cutlery out of the drawer, and there then followed a long pause.
    ‘How many places shall I set?’ he asked at length.
    ‘Three of course,’ I replied. ‘Why?’
    ‘Is there no one else joining us then?’
    ‘Don’t know,’ I said.
    ‘Oh … er, right.’
    ‘I suppose you could lay an extra one if you want to, though, just in