Dorothy put away the mirror. She turned to him, one
hand on the rubies round her neck.
"How do I look?" she asked.
Edward stared at her, his grievance forgotten. He had never seen Dorothy quite like this. There was a triumph
about her, a kind of regal beauty that was completely new
to him. The belief that she had jewels round her neck worth
fifty thousand pounds had made of Dorothy Pratt a new
woman. She looked insolently serene a kind of Cleopatra
and Semiramis and Zenobia rolled into one.
"You look--you look--stunning," said Edward humbly.
Dorothy laughed, and her laugh, too, was entirely different.
"Look here," said Edward. "We've got to do something. We must take them to a police station or something."
"Nonsense," said Dorothy. "You said yourself just now that they wouldn't believe you. You'll probably be sent to
prison for stealing them."
"Butmbut what else can we do?"
"Keep them," said the new Dorothy Pratt. Edward stared at her.
"Keep them? You're mad."
"We found them, didn't we? Why should we think they're
valuable7 We'll keep them and I shall wear them." "And the police will pinch you."
Dorothy considered this for a minute or two.
"All fight," she said. "We'll/sell them. ,,A, nd you can buy a Rolls-Royce, or two Rolls-Pgbyces, and I 11 buy a diamond
headthing and some rings."
Still Edward stared. Dorothy showed impatience.
"You've got your chance nowmit's up to you to take it. We didn't steal the thing---I wouldn't hold with that.
80 Agatha Christie
It's come to us and it's probably the only chance we'll ever
have of getting all the things we want. Haven't you got any
spunk at all, Edward Palgrovc?"
Edward found his voice.
"Sell it, you say? That wouldn't be so jolly easy. Any
jeweller would want to know where I got the blooming
thing."
"You don't take it to a jeweller. Don't you ever read
detective stories, Ted? You take it to a 'fence,' of course.'
"And how should I know any fences? I've been brought
up respectable."
"Men ought to know everything," said Dorothy. "That's
what they're for."
He looked at her. She was serene and unyielding.
"I wouldn't have believed it of you," he said weakly.
"I thought you had more spirit."
There was a pause. Then Dorothy rose to her feet.
"Well," she said lightly. "We'd best be geting home."
"Wearing that thing round your neck?"
Dorothy removed the necklace, looked at it rcvcrenfiy
and dropped it into her handbag.
"Look here," said Edward. "You give that to me."
"No."
"Yes, you do. I've been brought up honest, my girl."
"Well, you can go on being honest. You need have nothing
to do with it."
"Oh, hand it over," said Edward recklessly. "I'll do it.
I'll find a fence. As you say, it's the only chance we shall
cvcr have. We came by it honest--bought it for two shillings.
It's no more than what gentlemen do in antique shops
every day of their life and are proud of it."
"That's it!" said Dorothy. "Oh, Edward, you're splendid!"
She handed over the necklace and he dropped it into his
pocket. He felt worked up, exalted, the very devil of a
fellow! In this mood, he srted the Austin. They were both
too excited to remember tea. They drove back to London
in silence. Once at a crossroads, a policeman stepped towards
the car, and Edward's heart missed a beat. By a
miracle, they reached home without mishap.
A FRUITFUL SUNDAY
81
Edward's last words to Dorothy were imbued with the
adventurous spirit.
"We'll go through with this. Fifty thousand pounds! It's
worth it!"
He dreamt that night of broad arrows and Dartmoor, and
rose early, haggard, and unrefreshed. He had to set about
finding a fence--and how to do it he had not the remotest
idea!
His work at the office was slovenly and brought down
upon him two sharp rebukes before lunch.
How did one find a "fence"? Whitechapel, he fancied,
was the correct neighbourhood--or was it Stepney?
On his return to the office a call came though for him
on the telephone. Dorothy's voice spoke--tragic and tearful.
"Is that you, Ted? I'm using the telephone, but she may
come in any minute, and I'll have to stop. Ted, you haven't
done anything, have you?"
Edward relalied in the negative.
"Well, look here, Ted, you mustn't. I've been lying
awake all nig:ht. It's been awful. Thinking of how it says
in the Bible you mustn't steal. I must have been mad yes-terday--I
really must. You won't do anything, will you,
Ted, dear?"
Did a feelimg of relief steal over Mr. Palgrove? Possibly
it did--but he wasn't going to admit any such thing.
"When I say I'm going through with a thing, I go through
with it," he said in a voice such as might belong to a strong
superman witlh eyes of steel.
"Oh, but, Wed, dear, you mustn't. Oh, Lord, she's coming. Look hee, Ted, she's going out to dinner tonight.
can slip out amd meet you. Don't do anything till you'v
seen me. Eighat o'clock. Wait for me round the corner." Her
voice changectl to a seraphic murmur.. "Yes, ma'am, I think
it was a wro,ng number. It was Bloomsbury 0243 they
wanted."
As Edwardl left the office at six o'clock, a huge headline
caught his eyee.
JEWELL ROBBERY. LATEST DEVELOPMENTS
82
Agatha Christie
Hurriedly he extended a penny. Safely ensconced in the
tube, having dexterously managed to gain a seat, he eagerly perused the printed sheet. He found what he sought easily
enough.
A suppressed whistle escaped him.
"Well--I'm---"
And then another adjacent paragraph caught his eye. He read it through and let the paper slip to the floor unheeded.
Precisely at eight o'clock, he was waiting at the rendezvous. A breathless Dorothy, looking pale but pretty, came
hurrying along to join him.
"You haven't done anything, Ted?"
"I haven't done anything." He took the ruby chain from
his pocket. "You can put it on."
"But, Ted--"
"The police have got the rubies all right--and the man who pinched them. And now read this!"
He thrust a newspaper paragraph under her nose Dorothy read:
NEW ADVERTISING STUNT
A clever new advertising dodge is being adopted by the All-English Fivepenny Fair who intend to challenge
the famous Woolworths. Baskets of fruit were
sold yesterday and will be on sale every Sunday. Out
of every fifty baskets, one will contain an imitation
necklace in different coloured stones. These necklaces
are really wonderful value for the money. Great excitement
and merriment was caused by them yesterday
and EAT MORE FRUIT will have a great vogue next
Sunday. We congratulate the Fivepenny Fair on their
resource and wish them all good luck in their campaign
of Buy British Goods.
"Well
--" said Dorothy.
And after a pause: "Well!"
"Yes," said Edward. "I felt the same."
A passing man thrust a paper into his hand.
"Take one, brother," he said.
"The price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies."
A FRUITFUL SUNDAY
"There!" said Edward. "I hope that cheers you up."
"I don't know," said Dorothy doubtfully. "I don't exactl want to look like a good woman."
"You don't," said F-lward. "That's why the man gav me that paper. With those rubies round your neck you don
look one little bit like a good woman."
Dorothy laughed.
"You're rather a dear, Ted," she said. "Come on, letL, go to the pictures.'
The Golden Ball
George Dundas stood in the City of London meditating.
All about him toilers and moneymakers surged and flowed like an enveloping tide. But George, beautifully dressed,
his trousers exquisitely creased; took no heed of them. He
was busy thinking what to do next.
Something had occurred! Between George and his rich uncle (Ephraim Leadbetter of the finn of Leadbetter and
Gilling) there had been what is called in a lower walk of
life "words." To be strictly accurate, the words had been
almost entirely on Mr. Leadbetter's side. They had flowed
from his lips in a steady stream of bitter indignation, and
the fact that they consisted almost entirely of repetition did
not seem to have worried him. To say a thing once beautifully
and then let it alone was not one of Mr. Leadbetter's
mottoes.
The theme was a simple one--the criminal folly and wickedness of a young man, who has his way to make,
taking a day off in the middle of the week without even
asking leave. Mr. Leadbetter, when he had said everything
he could think of and several things twice, paused for breath
and asked George what he meant by it.
George replied simply that he had felt he wanted a day off. A holiday, in fact.
And what, Mr. Leadbetter wanted to know, were Saturday afternoon and Sunday? To say nothing of Whitsun-tide,
not long past, and August Bank Holiday to come?
George said he didn't care for Saturday afternoons, Sundays or Bank Holidays. He meant a real day, when it might
be possible to find some spot where half London was not
assembled already.
THE GOLDEN BALL
Mr. Leadbetter then said that he had done his best by his dead sister's son--nobody could say he hadn't given
him a chance. But it was plain that it was no use. And in
future George could have five real days with Saturday and
Sunday added to do with as he liked.
"The golden ball of opportunity has been thrown up for
you, my boy," said Mr. Leadbetter in a last touch of poetical
fancy. "And you have failed to grasp it."
George said it seemed to him that that was just what he
had done, and Mr. Leadbetter dropped poetry for wrath and
told him to get out.
Hence George--meditating. Would his uncle relent or
would he not? Had he any secret affection for George, or
merely a cold distaste?
It was just at that moment that a voice--a most unlikely
voice--said, "Hallo!"
A scarlet touring car with an immense long hood had
drawn up to the curb beside him. At the wheel was that
beautiful and popular society girl, Mary Montresor. (The
description is that of the illustrated papers who produced a
portrait of her at least four times a month.) She was smiling
at George in an accomplished manner.
"I never knew a man could look so like an island," said
Mary Montresor. "Would you like to get in?"
"I should love it above all things," said George with no
hesitation, and stepped in beside her.
They proceeded slowly because the traffic forbade anything
else.
"I'm tired of the city," said Mary Montresor. "I came to
see what it was like. I shall go back to London."
Without presuming to correct her geography, George said
it was a splendid idea. They proceeded sometimes slowly,
sometimes with wild bursts of speed when Mary Montresor
saw a chance of cutting in. It seemed to George that she
was somewhat optimistic in the latter view, but he reflected
that one could only die once. He thought it best, however,
to essay no conversation. He preferred his fair driver to keep
strictly to the job in hand.
It was she who reopened the conversation, choosing the
moment when they were doing a wild sweep round Hyde
Park Corner.
86
Agatha Christie
"How would you like to marry me?" she inquired cas
ually.
George gave a gasp, but that may have been due to a
large bus that seemed to spell certain destruction. He prided
himself on his quickness in response.
"I should love it," he replied easily.
"Well," said Mary Montresor vaguely. "Perhaps you may
someday."
They turned into the straight without accident, and at
that moment George perceived large new bills at Hyde Park
Corner tube station. Sandwiched between GRAVE POLITICAL
SITUATION and COLONEL IN DOCK, one said SOCIETY GIRL
TO MARRY DUKE, and the other DUKE OF EDGEHILL AND MISS
MONTRESOR.
"What's this about the Duke of Edgehill?" demanded
George sternly.
"Me and Bingo? We're engaged."
"But then--what you said just now---"
"Oh, that," said Mary Montresor. "You see, I haven't
made up my mind who I shall actually marry."
"Then why did you get engaged to him?"
"Just to see if I could. Everybody seemed to think it
would be frightfully difficult, and it wasn't a bit!"
"Very rough luck on--er--Bingo," said George, mas
tering his embarrassment at calling a real live duke by a
nickname.
"Not at all," said Mary Montresor. "It will be good for
Bingo, if anything could do him good--which I doubt."
George made another discovery--again aided by a con
venient poster.
"Why, of course, it's cup day at Ascot. I should have
thought that was the one place you were simply bound to
be today."
Mary Montresor sighed.
"I wanted a holiday," she said plaintively.
"Why, so did I," said George, delighted. "And as a result
my uncle has kicked me out to starve." ,,my
"Then in case we marry," said Mary,
twenty thousand
a year may come in useful?"
"It will certainly provide us with a few home comforts,"
said George.
THE GOLDEN BALL
87
"Talking of homes," said Mary, "let's go in the country and find a home we would like to live in."
It seemed a simple and channing plan. They negotiated Putney Bridge, reached the Kingston by-pass and with a
sigh of satisfaction Mary pressed her foot down on the
accelerator. They got into the country very quickly. It was
half an hour later that with a sudden exclamation Mary shot
out a dramatic hand and pointed.
On the brow of a hill in front of them there nestled a house of what house agents describe (but seldom truthfully)
as "old-w
orld charm." Imagine the description of most houses
in the country really come true for once, and you get an
idea of this house.
Mary drew up outside a white gate.
"We'll leave the car and go up and look at it. It's our house!"
"Decidedly, it's our house," agreed George. "But just for the moment other people seem to be living in it."
Mary dismissed the other people with a wave of her hand. They walked up the winding drive together. The house
appeared even more desirable at close quarters.
"We'll go and peep in at all the windows," said Mary. George demurred.
"Do you think the other people--"
"I shan't consider them. It's our house--they're only living in it by a sort of accident. Besides, it's a lovely day and they're sure to be out. And if anyone does catch us, I
shall say--I shall say--that I thought it was Mrs.--Mrs.
Pardonstenger's house, and that I am so sorry I made a
mistake."
"Well, that ought to be safe enough," said George reflectively.
They looked in through windows. The house was delightfully furnished. They had just got to the study when
footsteps crunched on the gravel behind them and they turned
to face a most irreproachable butler.
"Oh!" said Mary. And then putting on her most enchanting smile, she said, "Is Mrs. Pardonstenger in? I was looking
to see if she was in the study."
"Mrs. Pardonstenger is at home, madam," said the butler. "Will you come this way, please."
88 Agatha Christie
They did the only thing they could. They followed him. George was calculating what the odds against this happening
could possibly be. With a name like Pardonstenger he came
to the conclusion it was about one in twenty thousand. His
The Golden Ball and Other Stories Page 11