I said: 'Every German schoolboy knows about Tannenberg, just as every English boy is taught about Trafalgar. Fifty miles of Masurian lakes split the Tsar's attacking army. The invincible General Hindenburg walloped one half and then the other, to win a classic victory.' I stopped abruptly as I realized to what extent my upbringing at a Berlin school had caused me to forget that the Tsar and his army were fighting on the Allied side. In 1914 Hindenburg had been Britain's deadly enemy.

'Do you know why you've never got on?' said Dicky in a friendly tone, while putting a hand on my shoulder. 'You can't distinguish the important things in life from self-indulgent trifles. '

'Yes,' I said. 'And anyway, it was General Ludendorff who did the work while Hindenburg snatched all the credit.' Dicky smiled to show he knew which general he was.

Karol arrived back at the house just after two o'clock. Everyone was fretting for their lunch but it was delayed until he arrived. Dicky had somewhat overstated Karol's riding attire. He came into the drawing room dressed in stained slacks, scuffed high-boots and a baggy tweed jacket. He sat down after no more than a gruff greeting and we were served more soup made from unidentifiable vegetables followed by a plate of peppery mashed swede with onion in it.

'Father Ratajczyk said he would come,' Karol said suddenly. This seemed to be directed to Uncle Nico, but he turned to take in the whole family. 'He had a christening and then he is coming directly here.'

'There is no need for him to go into the East Wing,' said Uncle Nico.

'Every room,' said Karol. 'He said he would go into every room and that is what I want.' Uncle Nico said nothing. 'It's what Stefan wanted,' Karol added defiantly.

After the swede plates were cleared away, we were served a heavy pudding with a few raisins in it, and a sweet white sauce over it. There were murmurs of satisfaction from everyone and the pudding was devoured to the last drip of sauce and the final crumb.

'I have saved some food for Father,' said Aunt Mary.

'Yes,' said Karol. 'He will be hungry. They never serve food at christenings.'

The priest arrived about an hour after lunch was eaten. He came striding through the house, a small scrawny figure who gestured extravagantly with hands high in the air. 'I'll start here,' he said, looking into the dining room and sparing no more than a glance at the big stuffed eagle. 'We'll bring the box.' He said it as if to himself and then turned abruptly on his heel, so that the skirt of his ankle-length cassock swirled around him. He sped back to the hallway and shouted through the front door to the sweaty old chap he'd brought with him, 'Bring the box, Tadeusz.'

It was a large wooden box and weighed heavily, judging by the panting, flush-faced old man who carried it into the house and put it down in the dining room with a deep sigh.

'I'll need the second box too,' said the priest. 'It's a big job.'

The priest looked around. As if seeing for the first time the crowd of spectators who'd gathered round him he said, 'You must leave the house. All of you. Right away.' He again made a fidgety gesture with his hands high in the air, as a child might shoo away worrisome hens.

'What's it all about?' said Dicky.

I didn't know. 'What's it all about, Uncle Nico?' I asked.

It was Karol who answered. 'Everyone must leave the house,' he said. 'There is a little cottage near the lake. I ordered that it should be swept and a fire lit to warm it. You will be comfortable there for as long as this takes.'

'How long is that likely to be?' I asked.

'We'll be finished by the time Stefan arrives,' he replied. 'Two hours . . . three at the most.'

'I see.' I looked at Dicky. We both knew that three hours in Poland could take you into the following week.

'Why?' said Dicky.

'We mustn't talk about it,' Karol said. 'Something happened . . . something bad. Each room must be restored to us.'

'Restored how?' said Dicky.

Karol looked to see if the priest was listening, but he wasn't, he was opening his boxes and counting the contents. 'There is an evil spirit in the house. He must be expelled . . . exorcized. You know this word?'

'Yes, I know this word,' said Dicky. 'Bell, book, and candle. So that's it?'

'You'll be comfortable in the little house,' said Karol. I must stay here to help.'

'My God,' said Dicky bursting with suppressed excitement by the time we were along the path on the way to the cottage near the lake. 'Bell, book, and candle, eh?'

'Not exactly,' I said. 'Bell, book, and candle is the ceremony of excommunication. This is exorcism. Expelling evil spirits by ringing a passing bell.'

'Passing bell?'

'A consecrated bell. Rung for people at death's door who might have their soul snatched away as it passed from the body.'

'Are you making this up, Bernard?'

'Of course not.'

'Yes, well you know all this foreign religious mumbo-jumbo,' said Dicky. 'Perhaps it doesn't seem so suspicious to someone like you. But you've got to admit it, this is a damned weird setup. Bells. Dismembered bodies. Priests exorcizing the rooms. He'll start in the dining room: it didn't take him long to decide that, eh? So it's obvious that George Kosinski was murdered in that dining room. My God! Think of it. Why a dining room? Because there are sharp knives to hand, right?'

'They are doing all the rooms,' I pointed out.

'Maybe the Church figures it's a sin that has spilled over and stained the whole house. In this part of the world, what the Church says goes.'

'Maybe that's it,' I said.

'Maybe that's it.' Dicky mimicked my words angrily. 'Yes, maybe that's it, and maybe you are holding out on me again. You've got your own theory, haven't you? So why don't you bloody well say so?'

'I think it's all a lot of bullshit. It's just a way of getting everyone out of the house.'

'Why? Why, why, why?'

'I don't know, Dicky. That's why I didn't say anything.'

'What, can that bugger Karol do when we aren't in the house that he can't do when we are in it?'

'Listen, Dicky,' I said. 'I was looking around this morning, and there's a room at the top on this side with a locked door. The windows are clean — I can see that from the outside — and the handle is well used. They are keeping the stove going there. Warming an extra room doesn't come cheap. So why?'

'Wait a minute! Wait a minute. What do you mean — when you were looking around this morning?'

'I got up early. I couldn't sleep.'

'And searched the house? Bloody hell, Bernard. What if they had caught you?'

'What could they do?'

'They could chop you into pieces like they've chopped up poor old George Kosinski. That's what they can do. Take it easy, Bernard. I don't want to arouse their suspicions.'

What Dicky meant by not wanting to arouse their suspicions was not clear to me. I would have thought their suspicions were already sufficiently aroused by the unannounced arrival of two nosy foreigners. But I didn't want to get sidetracked. 'I think this is a good chance to take a look at that room,' I said.

'At the room you found?'

'They won't be expecting us to defy them and go through the house while they are going through it too. We know there are only the three of them and they're bound to make a noise carting all that ecclesiastical paraphernalia, from room to room and doing their phony routine. The servants are all in the barn. We can get in and go up the back stairs, take a look, and be back in the cottage, twiddling our thumbs, within half an hour.'

'No, Bernard. I don't think so.'

'Okay, I'll do it alone. If you would keep a look-out for me downstairs there's not much chance I'd be caught.' Dicky came to a halt on the path and started kicking the toe of his cowboy boot into the dead vegetation. 'We'd be in and out in a jiffy,' I urged.