Sure enough, Sullivan returned the very next day. Bunty, who was lounging over the counter (having evicted the cat for the fifth time), watched him enter and drop his pile of books in the return pile by the door. He then dropped to his knees, seizing a book that has tumbled off a shelf and his face lit up with a childlike joy. Bunty had never seen him look like that before.

"Something nice?" She asked.

The startled man lost his balance, fell and crashed into the bookcase, face first.

Bunty vaulted over the counter to rescue him. "Are you alright?" She asked, grabbing his arm and helping the surprisingly strong, blushing man to his feet.

"Fine, I'm fine," He breathed.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine."

"Do you say anything other than fine?" Bunty teased.

Sullivan wrenched his arm out of her grasp, fixing her with what must have been his signature frown.

"Yes, I do." He said crossly. "Do you do anything other than frighten people who are obviously focusing on something?"

Touché, thought Bunty. Maybe there's more life in him than I thought.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked politely, as he continued to scowl at her. "Any books? Cup of tea? An ice pack?"

She smiled benignly at his furious countenanace, a Persian cat taunting an embitted Rottweiler. A vein was throbbing on his forehead. He stomped off into the gloom of the corners as the doorbell dinged and Lady Felicia's signature perfume did battle with the stench of dead veg as she breezed in.

"What did you say to him?" She asked in way of a greeting, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Bunty giggled. "I startled him and he fell into a bookcase."

Lady Felicia rolled her eyes. "He's easily shocked," She said quietly, "Especially by anything in a dress."

"Is that so?" Bunty said, straining to catch a glimpse of the blue suit amongst the brown shelves. "I thought he might just be shy."

"Oh he is, painfully so. But there's certainly more there than meets the eye. But while he's here... Inspector!"

He surfaced for a moment and struggled to hide his dismay as Lady Felicia came clicking across the wooden floor towards him.

"I was hoping to have a word." She beamed.

''Yes, Lady Felicia." He sighed.

"It's about Sid -" Sullivan looked murderous at the mention. Bunty had to admire Lady Felicia's bravery.

"Well, I would hate to step in your toes in this investigation-"

"Going to leave that to Father Brown, are you?" Sullivan interjected cruelly.

Lady Felicia laughed it off. "Oh Inspector, you are a wit. You see, I know you interrogated Sid about his role in the robbery, and you didn't believe his alibi that he was at the party at Montague."

"Naturally - his alibi was at best flimsy, and at worse a downright lie." Sullivan stated. "And as Mr Carter no doubt told you, I plan to pursue this line of enquiry." He plucked another book off the shelf in front of him, obviously eager to leave.

Lady Felicia smiled. Bunty knew that smile.

"Indeed he did. And as you refuse to believe him, I thouht you might like to see this." From her clutch bag she produced a photograph, which she handed to Sullivan. The man's frown deepened.

"I'm sure you can recognise that that is undoubtedly Sidney Carter." She said, failing to hide the smugness in her voice.

Sullivan stared at the photograph. For some reason, it seemed to upset him more than it angered him.

"Yes, undoubtedly." He echoed.

"Then I believe that settles it." Lady F stated with an air of finality on her voice.

"It does indeed." Sullivan agreed, rather sadly. He then jolted himself out of his trance, managed an almost cordial goodbye, made his way to the desk, got his books stamped, and left. One of them was left standing in the corner. Bunty looked out the window after him but the man ahd vanished.

Bunty sidled over to Lady Felicia. "What's he got against Sid?" She asked.

Lady Felicia shrugged. "Who knows. Still, there's no arguing with that." She handed Bunty the photograph.

Sid was in the midst of the dance floor with one arm around a village girl and the other around a farmer's daughter. He was grinning madly, his hair standing on his head wildly, collar virtually covered in lipstick - with a healthy dose slathered over his cheek as well. It could not be more Sid.

"Good photograph." Bunty said. "You ought to get it framed."

"I think I will." Lady Felicia smiled. "Now direct me towards anyone who writes like DH Lawrence."

Just as Bunty was gathering her things in anticipation of the end of the day, Sullivan returned. He went sheepishly into the corner and picked up a book he had obviously forgotten in the chaos of earlier. He awkwardly approached the counter (where Bunty was the only person standing) obviously fearing that another countess would come swishing out from behind the trashy romantic novels and botch another one of his investigations.

Bunty absentmindedly stamped the book. "Was this the one you got all excited about earlier?" She asked.

"Yes," Sullivan admitted, "It's one of the few I can never find anywhere."

Bunty turned over the book in her hands. Mansfield Park, Jane Austen.

"I didn't envision you as an Austen fan, Inspector."

"Why not?" He asked earnestly. "She's a fantastic writer, and her plots are always intricate and they're so funny and witty, and the characters all feel so real."

This joyful little outburst seemed to shock them both. Once again, Sullivan was the happiest Bunty had ever seen him.

"Have you read it before?" She asked.

"Oh yes - I've read them all. But I haven't read that one in ages, and it's one of the few I don't have. I've Pride and Prejudice, Emma and Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility but I can never find this one or Persuasion. Emma's definitely my favourite.'' He looked at Bunty. ''Why are you looking at me like that?''

''I'm afraid you've rather usurped me in Austen knowledge, and I don't quite know what to say.'' Bunty said delicately.

''Oh.'' Sullivan was blushing, the exhilaration was chased from his features by a mask of embarrasment. ''Sorry about that.''

''Oh don't apologise!'' She cried, ''It was wonderful to hear you talk so passionately about the books you love! I never hear anyone talk like that - especially not about Austen, though the only one I've read the whole way through is Pride and Prejudice-''

Sullivan was beetroot red by now, but managed a small smile. ''Thank you.'' He said- warmly, and with emotion. He touched his hat to her and left a happy, if somewhat flustered man.

Bunty lifted her bag and followed him out, making sure to flip the closed sign on the way out. An Austen fan. Who'd have thought they'd have something in common?