The Bulldog Drummond Megapack
Page 224
“Tophole, my dear old host,” answered Algy. “And if I’d sunk my sixth putt on the last green I’d have beaten her. Pretty hot—what!”
“I wonder if you would care to see round the garden,” remarked Burton turning to the girl. “Or are you too tired?”
For a moment she hesitated, then she handed her clubs to Algy. She had promised to go through with it, so it might as well be now.
“I should like to, Mr. Burton,” she said. “Take those in for me, Algy.”
“Right, my angel. I feel honoured at the commission.”
He turned towards the house, as the other two strolled off, and not for the first time he felt misgivings over the whole thing. True it was only pretence on her part, but if Burton was the swine that recent events made him appear to be, even pretence was over the odds. In fact, if it had been anyone except Drummond who had suggested it, he would have turned it down flat.
He entered the hall to perceive too late that it was largely occupied by Lady Castledon.
“And where is Molly, Mr. Bugworth?” she boomed as soon as she saw him.
“Treading a measure midst the anemones with our host, Lady Castlegong,” he burbled genially. “Good game this. What’s your next fancy in nomenclature?”
He sauntered over to a side table and helped himself to a whisky and soda.
“What about a spot of Auntie’s ruin for you? It clarifies the brain, and prevents the nose turning blue.”
“I do not drink at this hour of the afternoon, young man.”
“Don’t you? You look as if you did. Or when I say that what I really intend to convey is that you don’t look as if you didn’t, if you take my meaning.”
He came back to the fire with his glass in his hand.
“Nice wench—your daughter,” he continued. “Definitely a nifty bit. I suggested the old wedding bells to her this afternoon, but as it made her miss her drive I didn’t pursue the subject.”
From the chair there arose sounds as of a cow elephant, suffering from asthma.
“Am I to understand”—words came at last—”that you have proposed to Molly?
“Such is my recollection. It must have been her, because the only other woman I met had a purple face and muscles like walnuts. She was murdering her caddie in a bunker when I last saw her.”
“Will you kindly cease talking for one moment and listen to me. Here and now I wish you clearly to understand that neither Sir George nor I would ever give our consent to Molly marrying a…a specimen like you. I believe you have a certain amount of money, but from what little I have heard about you, you represent a type of modern young man for whose continued existence I can see no possible object.” She glared at him. “What are you waggling your finger for?”
“I was just trying to get the tempo and the first note of the seven-fold Amen,” explained Algy. “No, it eludes me. But how right you are—how very right. There is just one academic point, however, on which I would like to join issue with you. Do we exist? Or is it just the figment of a disordered stomach? If you carefully study the works of Einstein and P. G. Wodehouse you will have to agree, that amongst the master brains there is considerable doubt on the subject. Are you really you, or are you a sweet ethereal wraith, wrapped round a central electron?”
Lady Castledon rose to her feet.
“If you were my son, Mr. Longworth, and a little younger you would soon find out if I was an ethereal wraith wrapped round an electron or not. Don’t forget what I said about Molly. Ah! Mr. Burton, I hear you have been showing my little girl round the garden.”
Charles Burton and Molly had just come in by the front door, and Algy stole a glance at his face. But he gathered nothing from it; as always, it was like a mask.
“Yes, we’ve been having a stroll round,” he said.
“Begonias on the up grade?” asked Algy hopefully as Molly joined him by the fire.
“Move over in the bed, Algy,” she remarked. “You take up too much room.”
“Molly!” Lady Castledon gave a gasp of horror, “What was that you said?”
“Well he does, mother. Why men should always consider that they have a prescriptive right to the centre of the fireplace, is one of those things that defeats me. Algy darling, I need alcohol. What’s on that tray?”
Charles Burton had gone upstairs and Algy looked at her with a grin.
“Have you something to confess to your mamma, my precious?”
“Shut up. And get me a drink. What’s in that bottle?”
“Sloe gin.”
“That’ll do. And I want a lot.”
“Molly dear,” said her mother, “am I to understand that—”
“You are, darling; you are. Thanks, Algy.”
“Oh! my dear, I’m so glad. And your father will be delighted.”
“Good Heavens! I haven’t accepted the man, if that’s what you mean. But I haven’t actually refused him. What are you pinching my leg for, Algy?”
“Only, my love, that I am sure it will merely be a question of time before you make him the happiest man alive.”
His back was towards Lady Castledon, and he frowned horribly at Molly.
“We will resume our talk later, Molly,” said her mother acidly, “when this impossible young man is not present.”
She swept out of the hall, and Algy gave a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, my dear, if I nipped the old suspender,” he said, “but you must remember one thing. On the face of it this has got to be a genuine affair. Your mother has got to believe that you really are thinking the matter over, if she’s going to pull her weight properly. For, if that fellow Burton gets an inkling that this is a put up job, we’re absolutely in the consommé.”
“All right, Algy; I’ll remember. But I draw the line at him kissing me.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. If I was you, I’d just say with simple maidenly sincerity that you’ll let him know when you’ve made up your mind.”
“I can’t make out why, if he’s what you say he is, he wants to marry me,” said the girl thoughtfully.
“Well, old dear, I’ve seen people with worse dials than yours, you know. What I can’t make out is why the devil he’s asked me down here this week-end.”
“No; I don’t see that either. Get me some more sloe gin, like a dear.”
“I say, Molly,” remarked Algy, returning with the glass, “as chap to chap, do you like your mother?”
“One gets used to her in time. Why?”
“Because I don’t. I think she’s dreadful.”
“I know. So do a lot of people.”
“I thought she was going to burst on me while you were doing the herbaceous border act with Charles. I told her I’d proposed to you on the links.”
“Yes; that would cause an eruption. But why did you tell her that? I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
“Nothing to speak of. Though every movement of my driver must have revealed my hopeless passion. You see we weren’t getting on very well, and she’d just called me Bugworth. So I thought I’d give her a jolt in the corsets.”
The girl began to laugh.
“You are a prize buffoon, Algy. But, tell me, while we’ve got the chance, what’s the next move? I’ve done what Captain Drummond wanted, so far as Mr. Burton is concerned, but what now?”
“His idea is, dear, that you may be able to find out something If you don’t, you don’t; it can’t be helped. But there’s a chance. And I’ve never known Hugh Drummond so serious as he is over this affair. Hullo! here’s another arrival.”
From outside came the sound of wheels on the drive, and simultaneously Charles Burton came running down the stairs. And as the front door opened he reached it.
“Welcome, my dear fellow,” he said. “I hope you had no trouble in finding the way.”
He came in with another man, who was wearing an astrakhan coat.
“Let me introduce you to Miss Castledon,” he continued, “and Mr. Longworth…Mr. Menalin.”
“Would it be convenient,” he asked, “for us to have a little chat as soon as possible? A matter of business.” He bowed again to Molly Castledon.
“At once, if you like,” said Burton. “Let us go to my study.”
They crossed the hall and disappeared, and the girl looked at Algy.
“Who’s that?” she said.
“According to Hugh,” answered Algy gravely, “the big noise who is at the bottom of the whole thing. I’d give a lot to be in the study at the moment.”
The girl glanced at him curiously.
“You’re a funny mixture, Algy,” she said. “You’re looking quite the strong, silent man.”
“Good Lord!” he laughed. “Not as bad as that surely.”
“Tell me more about Hugh Drummond,” she said after a pause. “He sounds rather a pet.”
“He’s a topper,” answered Algy simply. “You’d love him.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Great big chap. Ugly as be damned, and frightfully powerful. He and I and one or two others have always hunted together, but it’s Hugh who gives the orders.”
“But what makes him suspect this Burton man?”
“I can’t tell you more than I have told you already, my angel, because I’m not allowed to. But you can take it from me that Charles is a nasty bit of work.”
“I hate the man; he’s so dreadfully in love with himself. But I should never have thought he was a criminal.”
“Nor did anybody else until quite recently. Which is why he’s so dangerous.”
“And you’ve got no idea what he’s trying to do?”
“Not the slightest, dear. Nor has Hugh. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Does he know that Captain Drummond is in England?”
“Good Lord, no! And he mustn’t, either. What is it, Molly?”
She had suddenly gripped his arm.
“That window beside the front door, Algy. A man had his face pressed against it.”
He rose and crossed the hall; then, opening the door, he peered out into the darkness. There was no one to be seen, and after a while he came back to the fire.
“Probably a gardener,” he said reassuringly. “Or one of those funny-looking birds I’ve seen creeping about the place.”
“I’ve seen some too,” she answered. “I wonder who they are.”
“Ask me another, my pet. Since they didn’t come in to lunch, I suppose they’re servants of sorts.”
Molly Castledon got up.
“I don’t like this house,” she said. “It’s very comfortable, but there’s something about it that gives me the shivers.”
“You aren’t leaving little Algy, are you?”
“I am, my sweet. I’m going to have a bath.”
He watched her as she went up the stairs; then, with a slight frown, he helped himself to another whisky and soda. For the first time in his life he found himself at variance with Hugh Drummond. He did not like the part the girl was playing. True, Hugh would never have suggested it without good reason, and so far as he could see, Molly was incurring no risk. At the same time it went against the grain.
After a while he lit a cigarette, and his thoughts turned to the other subject that worried him. Why had Charles Burton asked him down? The invitation had come quite unexpectedly the morning after he had seen Drummond; and had it not been for the fact that he had persuaded Molly, much against her will, to accept the preceding day, he would have refused. And now that he had arrived, he was even more surprised.
He had expected a large party, similar to the one he had been to before. But, so far as he could make out, save for this man Menalin, the Castledons and he were the only guests. And since Burton was not a man who did anything without a reason, he asked himself what that reason could be. That his host had conceived a sudden and violent friendship for him he dismissed as improbable, to put it mildly.
The sound of voices interrupted his train of thought; Burton and Menalin were returning to the hall. And immediately Algy’s face became vacant.
“All alone, Longworth,” cried his host as he entered.
“Deserted, dear old host, by men, women and children,” he said mournfully. “Come and chat to me on this and that.”
“I tried to get that pal of yours down for the weekend,” continued Burton, splashing some soda into a glass. “Captain Drummond. I looked him up in the book, and dropped him a line, but I’ve had no reply.”
“You wouldn’t. The old scout is in France. At least, he was the last time I heard from him.”
“Really! When did he go?”
“About a week ago.”
“I want to get in touch with him rather badly,” said Burton. “You haven’t by any chance got his address?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t. I tore up his letter. But in any event it wouldn’t have been much use even if I’d kept it. He was just passing through, if you take my meaning, from hither to thither.”
“Did he happen to mention when he was returning to England?”
“No. But he’s an uncommunicative old bean, you know. Just said he couldn’t shoot last Wednesday.”
“I see. Well, I’d be very much obliged, Longworth, if you’d ask him to ring me up when he does come back.”
“Certainly. I’ll let him know the instant he returns. How goes the Golden Boot? I haven’t seen you there lately.”
“I was in a couple of nights ago. You use it a good deal, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve masticated quite a number of kippers there. God bless!” He finished his drink. “I’m for a spot of hot water.”
He lounged up the stairs and Burton looked at Menalin with a faint smile.
“That, I think, settles the matter,” he remarked as Algy disappeared. “The two are great friends, which is really why I asked that idiot down here. He, if anybody, would know Drummond’s whereabouts. So I think we can assume that the gentleman is still in France. The point is—how much does he know or guess?
“Exactly,” said Menalin, lighting a cigarette. “How much does he know or guess? One of my principal reasons for coming here was to discuss that very matter.”
“So I gathered from your letter. And as I said a moment or two ago my sole reason for asking Longworth here was to try and get in touch with Drummond.”
“The manoeuvre does not seem to have been very successful. However, for the moment we will let that pass. How much does he know? It is a matter to which I have given a good deal of thought, and at present I do not think we need worry. All that he can know is what Madame Pélain told him.”
“Which may have been a lot,” said Burton uneasily.
“I don’t think so,” answered Menalin. “Had she told him anything of real value it would have been contained in the letter which Standish wrote to Talbot from Cannes. Since, however, you have observed nothing suspicious since the receipt of that letter, we can assume, I think, that it did not contain any such information.”
“It would have been well if you could have got that letter.”
“Had it been possible we would have. But Standish registered it himself at the main post office.”
“And where is he now?”
“He was caught as I informed you at Evian, and taken back to Cannes. And when the police had finished with him I intervened. You need not trouble about Standish: he is safely under lock and key.”
“I’d far sooner he was dead.”
“Possibly. But we do not all of us possess your method, my dear Burton, of causing—er—natural death. And murder always excites the police.”
“You got Gasdon in Paris?”
“He was picked up as he came in by the Porte d’Italie driving Drummond’s car. He is still in hospital with a bad knife-wound.”
“So only Drummond remains.”
“As you say—only Drummond re
mains. And that, Burton, is a state of affairs that has got to be rectified as soon as possible. That man is dangerous.”
“But if he knows nothing…”
“I said that I don’t think he knows anything of importance at present. But if I’m any judge of human nature, that will merely spur him on to greater activity. Drummond, my friend, must go.”
“Once I can lay my hands on him he will trouble us no more.”
“Ah I—once you can. He has, I take it, no reason to suspect you?”
“None whatever. No one has. It was a nuisance that I had to give my name going up in the boat-train, but it couldn’t be avoided.”
“And how goes this new venture of yours—the night club?”
“Hardly a venture, Menalin. The Golden Boot is a blind. The fact that it’s a paying blind is all to the good, but I should keep it going even if it wasn’t. Like the parties I throw; and this house. Also, in a different way, like my marriage to that girl you met. They all help to keep my real activities out of the limelight.”
“I see the idea. Dorina told me that for an English night club yours was much better than the usual abomination.”
“I think she enjoyed herself. Funnily enough that was the last time I saw Drummond.”
Menalin stared at him.
“What’s that you say? Was Drummond at the Golden Boot the night you took Dorina there?”
“Yes. What of it?”
“And he saw her?”
“Of course he did. Why shouldn’t he?”
“Because she was with me in the bar of the Negresco on the occasion that I saw him.”
“But why the devil,” said Burton, “did Donna go into the bar if Drummond was there?”
“Because she didn’t know him from Adam. How could she? He was never introduced to her at the Golden Boot. He was merely one man in a crowded night club. What was there to make her notice him? You never drew her attention to him.”
“That’s true. I didn’t know anything about him then.”
Burton began to pace up and down the hall.
“Perhaps he didn’t recognise her,” he said at length.
“Not recognise Dorina! Don’t be a damned fool. No one could fail to recognise her. It didn’t matter if Madame Pélain realised that Dorina was the woman who had been at Chez Paquay that day, so long as she was only seen with me. But that Drummond should have seen her with you, is awkward.”