The whole business deal, in short, would be consummated without my aunt being subjected to any annoyance or inconvenience whatsoever. It shows what a good whack at the port will do, when I say that there was actually a moment, as I raced upstairs, when I told myself that, could she know the facts, she would be the first to approve and applaud.
I had modified this view somewhat by the time I reached the door, but I did not allow this to deter me. I flung myself at the handle and turned it with zip and animation. And you may picture my chagrin, Corky, when not a damn thing happened. Oakshott had locked the door and taken away the key, creating a situation which would have compelled most men to confess themselves nonplussed, and one which, I must own, rattled even me for a bit.
Then my knowledge of the terrain stood me in good stead. I had spent a considerable amount of time as an inmate of this house— it rarely happens that my aunt kicks me out before the middle of the second week—and I was familiar with its workings. I knew, for instance, that behind the potting shed down by the kitchen garden there was always kept a small but serviceable ladder. I was also aware that my aunt’s bedroom had French windows opening on a balcony. With the aid of this ladder and a chisel I would be able to laugh at locksmiths.
Butlers always have chisels, so I went back to the pantry and had no difficulty in finding Oakshott’s. There was an electric torch in the same drawer, and I felt that I might need that, too. I had just pocketed these useful objects, when Oakshott came in, and conceive my emotion when I saw that he was carrying a roll the size of a portmanteau. I presumed that he had come to the pantry to bank the stuff. A man in his position, with ready money raining down on him in a steady stream, would naturally wish to cache it from time to time, so as to leave room on his person for more.
The sight of me seemed to give him little or no pleasure. His eyes took on a cold, poached-egg look.
“You still here?”
“Still here,” I assured him.
“It’s no good your waiting,” he said churlishly. “You won’t get a smell of that flyer.”
“I need it sorely.”
“So do I.”
“And how easy it would be to give of your plenty. With a wad like that, you’d never know it was gone.”
“It won’t be gone.”
I sighed. “So be it, Oakshott. You won’t grudge me a drop of port?”
“You can have some port. I’ll have some, too.”
“Shall I hold the money?”
“No.”
“I thought you might want to have your hands free while you poured. You’ve been doing well, it would appear. Business is good?”
“Fine. Well, mud in your eye.”
“Skin off your nose,” I replied courteously and we quaffed. He then left me, and I made for the garden.
Passing the drawing-room I could hear sounds of mirth and merriment as the multitude took its pop at the games of chance, putting more cash into Oakshott’s pocket as it did so, and I was in two minds about pausing to bung a brick through the window. But this, I saw, though a relief to my feelings, would not further my business interests, so I let it go. I found the ladder and climbed to the balcony, and I was just about to get to work with the chisel when the lights in the room suddenly flashed on, giving me a bit of a jolt.
Speedily recovering, I shoved my nose against the pane and saw Oakshott. He was standing by the chest of drawers, still clutching the roll, and one sensed that, finding me in the pantry, he had decided that this would be a better place to put it. But before he could make his deposit there came a sudden change in the character of the sounds proceeding from below, and he stood listening, rigid like a stag at bay.
My aunt’s bedroom, I must mention, is just above the drawing-room, and if there are routs and revels going on in the latter apartment you hears them clearly on the balcony; and inside the room, of course, they come up through the floor. What had arrested Oakshott’s attention was the fact that at this juncture there was an abrupt increase in the volume of the noise, together with a feminine scream, or two, followed by a significant silence.
Well, it did not take a man of my experience long to gather what had occurred. I have participated in raids in my time as a patron, as a waiter, as a washer of glasses, and once, in America, actually as a member of the squad conducing the operations, and I know the procedure. What happens is that there is first a universal yell of consternation and the girls all scream, and then all is hushed and everyone stands peering bleakly into the future, trying to think of names and address which will sound reasonably plausible to the gentleman with the note-book.
Briefly, old horse, doom had come upon The Cedars, Wimbledon Common. The joint had been pulled.
V
That Oakshott, also, was able to put two and two together and form a swift diagnosis was shown by the promptness with which he now acted. There was a large wardrobe not far from where he stood, a handsome piece in old walnut, and he dived right into it like a seal going after a chunk of halibut, taking his roll with him.
And I popped in through the French windows and turned the key in the wardrobe door.
Why I did this, I cannot say, except that it seemed a good idea at the time. It was only some moments later that that extraordinary vision for which I have always been so remarkable suggested to me that not only clean fun but solid profit might be derived from the action. Here, it suddenly flashed upon me, was where I might make a bit.
You see, I had studied this Oakshott’s psychology, and my researches had left me with the conviction that he was one of those who, finding themselves locked in a wardrobe by a policeman during a raid on premises which they have been employing for illegal purposes, will endeavour to make a dicker with that policeman. On these occasions, as you are probably aware, while the patrons may hope to get off with a fine, mine host himself is in line for the jug, and a butler’s liberty is very dear to him. It seemed to me that I was entitled to assume that if Oakshott supposed that matters could be settled out of court, he would not count the cost.
At any rate, the thing seemed a fair sporting venture, so I approached the wardrobe and proceeded to address myself in a crisp, cultured voice—the voice of the younger son of some aristocratic family who, after a year or two at Oxford, has entered the Force via the Hendon Police College.
“What,” I inquired, “are you doing they-ah, Simmons?”
To which I replied, this time using the bass clef and adopting a bit of a Ponder’s End accent—for I pictured this Simmons as just some ordinary flatty who had graduated from a board school —”I’ve got one of ‘em locked in ‘ere, sir.”
“Oh, reall-ah?” I said. “Good work, Simmons. Guard him well. I’m off downstairs.”
I then went to the door, slammed it and paused for a reply.
It did not come immediately, and for a moment I feared that my knowledge of psychology might have let me down. But all was well. I can see now that Oakshott was merely thinking it over and fighting a parsimonious man’s battle between his love of liberty and the lust to retain his ill-begotten wealth. Presently there came from within a deprecating, “Er, officer,” followed by a rustling sound, and there stole out from under the door a flyer.
I gathered it in, and there for a while the matter rested.
I suppose Oakshott realized that when you are buying a policeman’s soul you cannot be niggardly, for a few moments later another flyer came stealing out, and I pounced on that, too. After this had gone on for some time, with my current account going up by leaps and bounds, I decided to take my profit and retire from the game. At any minute a systematic search of the premises might be instituted—I couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t been done already—and if I were to be found on them my presence might be hard to explain. The pure heart and the clean conscience are all very well, but they pay few dividends during a gambling raid, and it seemed to me that I would be better elsewhere. It would not, I felt, be beyond the scope of Oakshott’s subtle mind to make the constabulary b
elieve that it was I who had been master of the revels.
So I unlocked the door and nipped out of the window and down the ladder. I have often wondered what Oakshott’s reactions were when he stole out and found the place entirely free from P.C. Simmonses.
It was a lovely night, with the stars twinkling away in the firmament, and the garden was very cool and peaceful. I would gladly have lingered and drunk in its fragrance, but I could not but feel that this was not the moment. Many people have complimented me on my nerve of steel, and rightly, but there is a time for reckless courage and a time for prudence. I don’t mind admitting that at this particular juncture, with the troops of Midian prowling around, my emotions were those of a cat in a strange alley, and I was anxious to get away from it all.
So marked was this feeling that, as I came abreast of the big water butt outside the kitchen door and heard a noise somewhere in the neighbourhood, as of regulation official boots trampling in the night, I halted with beating heart and raised the lid, intending to get inside. Whereupon, a hand came out and slid a banknote into my grasp. Seeing that my dugout was already occupied, I passed on.
This incident, as you may imagine, made a deep impression on me. It suggested to me that in following the policy of safety first, and concentrating on the swift getaway, I might be passing up something good. If there was gold in the water butt, there might be the same elsewhere. I decided to draw another covert or two before leaving. And to cut a long story short, at the end of ten minutes my balance had substantially increased.
Apparently not all the patrons of The Cedars had been content to remain supinely in the drawing-room when the gendarmerie came popping up through traps. There were those who had acted with that mettle and spirit, which one likes to feel is the birthright of Englishmen, and had hopped out of the window, to distribute themselves here and there about the grounds. One splendid fellow, who came across with a tenner, had snuggled into the cucumber frame. You felt it was the sort of thing Drake or Raleigh would have done.
But now I was naturally anxious to count the takings. A methodical man always likes to know where he stands. It seemed to me that the potting shed was far enough away from the house to be out of the danger zone, so I made for it. And I was crossing the threshold with a gay, if sotto voce, song on my lips, when there was a sharp squeal from its dark interior, and I knew that here, too, some poor human waif had found and taken sanctuary.
The next moment the rays of the torch, of which I had quickly pressed the button, revealed the well-known features of my Aunt Julia.
VI
There are times in life, Corky, when the man of iron self-control may be excused for momentarily losing his phlegm. It is a very unnerving thing to find an aunt whom you know to be in the south of France nestling in a potting shed in Wimbledon. A sharp “Gor-blimey!” escaped my lips, and it was at once evident that the ear of love had recognized the familiar voice.
“Stanley!” she cried.
Usually when my aunt says “Stanley!” it is a tone of refined exasperation, the ejaculation being preliminary to a thorough ticking-off. But now the general effect was vastly different. Her “Stanley!” on the present occasion was roughly equivalent to the “Gawain!” or “Galahad!” which a distressed damsel in difficulties with a dragon would have uttered on beholding her favourite knight entering the ring with drawn sword.
“Aunt Julia!” I exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here?”
In broken accents and in a hushed whisper, starting from time to time at sudden noises, she told her story. It was after all, quite simple. At Cannes, it seemed, she had met a friend, a recent arrival on the Riviera, who knew a man who had told her, the friend, that dark doings were in progress in the old home. And so arresting was this crony’s report of the big evenings at The Cedars that my aunt had leaped into the first plane, intent on catching the miscreant responsible on the hop.
“I thought at first it must be you, Stanley.”
I drew myself up with a touch of hauteur. “Indeed?”
“But my friend said no.”
“I should hope so.”
“She said it was the butler.”
“She was right.”
“And I trusted him implicitly!”
“A pity you did not consult me, Aunt Julia. I could have given you the lowdown on the man’s true character.”
“He looks so respectable.”
“Many a man may look respectable, and yet be able to hide at will behind a spiral staircase.”
“You saw through him?”
“Like an X-ray. I suspected that, the moment your back was turned, he would be up to some kind of hell, and I was correct. I came here to-night in the hope of being able to protect your interests.”
“You were gambling?”
I switched on the torch, switching it off again immediately when she asked, with a momentary return to her normal brusque manner, if I wanted to bring every policeman on the premises to the spot.
“If,” I said, “you were able in that brief instant to get a dekko at my person, Aunt Julia, you will have seen that I am not dressed. At functions like the one at which you have been assisting, the soup-and-fish is obligatory. I possess no soup-and-fish. What happened when you got here?”
“I went into the drawing-room and was just going to order those people out, when a policeman came bursting in and told us that we were all under arrest. I promptly jumped out of the window.”
“Stoutly done, Aunt Julia. The true Ukridge resource.”
“And I took refuge here. What am I to do, Stanley? I must not be found. If I am, how can I convince the police that I am not responsible for the whole thing? The scandal will ruin me. Think, Stanley, think.”
I felt that it would be judicious to rub it in a bit.
“It is an unfortunate state of affairs,” I agreed. “And while it is not for me to criticize the arrangements which you may see fit to make where your own house is concerned, I cannot but feel that you have brought this on yourself. If you had placed me in charge during your absence … However, we can go into that later. What I propose to do now is to have a look around to see if the coast is clear. If it is, you will be able to do a quiet sneak over the garden wall. Wait here until I return. If I do not return, you will know that I have fallen a victim to a nephew’s devotion.”
Whether or not she said, “My hero!” I am not certain. It was what she ought to have said, but she is a woman who is apt to miss her cues at times.
However, she did clasp my hand in a fevered clutch, and with a brief word bidding her keep her tail up I went out.
I hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when I barged slap into a substantial body. It was coming around a tree, heading east, and I was going around the tree, heading west. We collided like a couple of mastodons mixing it in a primeval swamp. Recovering its balance, it flashed a torch on me and a moment later spoke.
It said: “Hullo, Ukridge, old top. You here? What a night, what a night, what a night?”
I recognized the voice of Looney Coote. And picture my astonishment, Corky, when, flashing my torch on him, I perceived that he was wearing a policeman’s uniform. When I commented on this, he laughed like a hyæna calling to its mate and told me all.
Chagrined at losing his money on the previous night at The Cedars, he had decided to fit himself out at a costumier’s and go and raid the place: thus, as he himself put it, giving it the salutary lesson it had been asking for and making it think a bit. Such, Corky, is Looney Coote, and always has been, I felt, as I had so often felt in my earlier dealings with him, that his spiritual home was definitely Coley Hatch.
Slowly I adjusted my faculties. “You mean there aren’t any cops here?”
“Only me.”
I had to pause at this to master my emotion. When I thought of the intense nervous strain to which I had been subjected and recalled the way I had been tiptoeing about the place and quaking at sudden noises and not letting a twig snap beneath my feet, and all beca
use of this pie-faced half-wit, the temptation to haul off and bust him in the eye was very powerful.
I succeeded in restraining myself, but my manner was cold and severe. “And the next thing that will happen,” I said, “is that a bevy of genuine constables will blow in, and you’ll get two years hard for impersonating a policeman.”
This rattled him. “I never thought of that.”
“Muse on it now.”
“The Law gets a bit shirty, does it, if you impersonate policemen?”
“It screams with annoyance.”
“Well, well, well, I’d better leg it, you think?”
“I do.”
“I will. Listen, Ukridge, old man,” said Looney, “there’s something you can do for me. I locked an abundant multitude of the blighters in the drawing-room. I should be vastly obliged if, after I’ve gone, you would let them out. Here’s the key. And, by the way, weren’t you saying something this morning about wanting me to lend you money, or something?”
“I was.”
“Would a tenner be enough?”
“I could make it do.”
“Then here you are. Talking of money,” said Looney, “there was a strong movement afoot among the blighters to bribe me to let them go. A good deal of feeling was shown. Amused me, I must confess. Well, good night, old man. It’s been nice seeing you. Do you think, if I’m stopped by a cop, I could get away with it by saying I was on my way to a fancy-dress ball?”
“You might try it.”
“I will. Did I give you that tenner?” he said. “No.”
“Then here you are. Good night, old man, good night.”
I went back to the potting shed and told my aunt that a quick burst from the garden wall was now in order, and she thanked me in a trembling voice and kissed me and said she had misjudged me. She then popped off at a good speed, and I pushed along to the drawing-room, forming my plans and schemes with lightning rapidity as I went. What Looney had said about the inmates trying to bribe him had stirred me not a little.
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