‘With no risks attached, I repeat.’
‘Well—’
‘In that case—’
‘Yes, in that case I might sit in. But I’d like to know what the game is.’
‘You shall. You’ve seen that picture that’s up in the portrait gallery, the one the Duke brought with him. Willie wants it the worst way, never mind why, and I’ve contracted to get it for him. Can we count on your assistance?’
‘I don’t know why not.’
‘Bravely spoken.’
‘What do I do?’
‘Your first move will be to leave.’
‘Leave the castle?’
‘That’s right. You’ve got your car here, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then off you go.’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘It’ll become plainer as I proceed.’
‘Why do I have to leave ?’
‘So that you won’t be a suspect. When the thing’s found missing, nobody can say you took it, because you’ll have been gone a couple of days.’
‘But if I’m not here—’
‘How do you do your bit? That’s all arranged for. You leave, but you come back and lurk, and you keep on lurking till zero hour, which will be when Willie and I do our stuff. We go to the portrait gallery, you’ll be lurking under the window. We lower the picture down to you on a string, and you drive off to London with it. Next morning there’ll be a lot of fuss, with everybody running around in circles and yelling Who-dun-it, but where’s it going to get them? The Duke’ll think it must have been Willie and he’ll go through his room with a fine-tooth comb, but there won’t be a scrap of evidence and they’ll have to settle for burglars. Willie will come out of it without a stain on his character. Then, when the heat’s off, he meets you in London, you hand the thing over to him, and there’s your happy ending.’
She paused with the air of one waiting for a round of applause. She got it from Wilbur Trout.
‘Swell! What a brain!’
‘Nice of you to say so.’
‘You know, none of my wives had brains.’
‘They hadn’t?’
‘Looks, yes, but not brains. You’re a wonder.’
‘Thank you, Willie.’
There was a momentary silence, occupied by Wilbur apparently in turning the thing over in his mind.
‘The Duke’ll be sore.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder. Still, into each life some rain must fall. And he deserves it for chiselling you out of the picture the way he did. I’ll tell you about that some time, Chesney, and you’ll agree that he had it coming to him.’
The voice of conscience seemed still to be whispering in Wilbur’s ear. A thought occurred to him.
‘I’ll send him a cheque for what he paid for the thing.’
‘Thus giving yourself away completely. You might as well mail him a written confession.’
‘I’d send it anonymously, of course.’
‘An anonymous cheque?’
Wilbur said he had not thought of that.
‘It’ll have to be cash,’ he conceded, and Vanessa shrugged her shoulders.
‘I wouldn’t if it was me,’ she said, ‘but if that’s the way you want it go ahead.’
The board meeting was over. Wilbur went off to dress. His stay at the castle had been of sufficient duration to give him a pronounced awe of his hostess, and he had no wish to incur her displeasure by being late for dinner. Howard Chesney, who feared only Beach and moreover prided himself on being able to array himself in what he called the soup and fish in ten minutes, remained. An item that should have been on the agenda paper was in his mind, and he was anxious to bring it to the attention of the board’s chairwoman.
‘About terms,’ he said. ‘You didn’t mention terms.’
Vanessa was surprised. This struck her as rather sordid.
‘Terms? I’m doing this to oblige an old friend.’
‘Well, I’m not doing it to oblige any old friend. What’s there in it for me?’
Vanessa saw his point. The labourer is proverbially worthy of his hire, and it was plain that this labourer intended to get it. And his labour was essential to her scheme. She wasted no time in fruitless argument.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose you want your cut.’
He assured her that she was not mistaken.
‘Well, Willie’s very generous. You won’t have anything to complain about with him. He scatters gold with a lavish hand. About how much gold had you in mind?’
‘A thousand bucks.’
‘You certainly think big.’
‘That’s my figure.’
‘You couldn’t shade it?’
‘No.’
‘All right. I’ll take it up with Willie.’
‘You do that.’
‘Though I still think …’
She broke off. Gally and John were coming through the hall. She eyed the latter with interest.
‘Hello, who’s that? Beach, who would the gentleman be who came through a moment ago with Mr. Threepwood?’
Beach, who had entered and was about to place a tray of cocktail glasses on their table, turned courteously.
‘A youngish gentleman, madam?’
‘And tallish.’
‘That is a Mr. Halliday, madam. He arrived this afternoon.’
Beach completed his task, and withdrew, and Vanessa, turning to Howard Chesney, was surprised to see that he was exhibiting all the indications of having received a shock.
‘Something the matter?’ she asked, noting his fallen jaw and the glassy stare in his eyes.
Howard Chesney writhed in silence for a moment. When speech came to him, it was bitter. He was patently a man with a grievance.
‘If this isn’t just my luck! Lawyers crawling all over London, thousands of them, and the one that comes here has to be him. Can you beat it?’
‘You know him?’
‘Do I know him! Say, listen. The last time I was over on this side a job went wrong and I did a stretch in the coop. And that guy Halliday was the attorney who defended me.’
4
Vanessa was a girl of cool nerve, but even girls of cool nerve can be shaken.
‘What!’ she cried.
‘That’s who he is.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure. And if you’re going to say Will he remember me, you bet he’ll remember me. It isn’t so long ago, and he saw plenty of me. So where do we go from here?’
It was a good question, and Vanessa found herself at a loss to think of an answer. An intelligent girl, she could see that this unfortunate reunion had dealt a mortal blow to the plan of campaign of which she was so proud. The situation was undeniably one that called for thought, and her brain became active.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘This wants talking over, and we can’t do it here, because he’ll be coming down in a minute. We’ll go to the portrait gallery. There won’t be anyone there.’
Howard Chesney said that what he was thinking of doing was sneaking out the back way and getting into his car and driving off without saying goodbye or thanking anyone for a delightful visit, a plan of action rendered additionally attractive because he would not have to tip the butler. Vanessa found it hard to dissuade him from this course, but she managed it at last, and it was to the portrait gallery that they went. And such was the vigour with which she had stimulated her always serviceable brain that by the time they arrived there she was able to announce that she had solved the problem.
‘I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘What you do is stay in your room and not come down to dinner. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well. And tomorrow—’
‘Yes, how about tomorrow? I’ll meet him then, won’t I? And he’ll spill the beans, won’t he? And the old girl will throw me out on my ear, won’t she?’
‘If you’ll just listen. Tomorrow you leave before breakfast.’
‘How do you explain me doing that?’
�
�You had an early phone call from your lawyer saying it was absolutely vital that you came to London for a conference.’
‘You think they’ll believe that?’
‘Why wouldn’t they?’
‘Who took the call?’
‘I did. I was up early.’
‘It sounds thin to me.’
‘Well, it’s the best we can do.’
‘I guess it is, at that. Then what?’
‘You go and stay a couple of nights at the Emsworth Arms in Market Blandings.’
Howard showed no enthusiasm for the suggestion. He was a man who liked his creature comforts.
‘The beds there are the limit. I was talking to a fellow in the bar yesterday, and he said they were stuffed with rocks.’
‘Well, go to London if you like, but leave me your phone number, so that I can tell you which night you’re to be under that window. We can’t get the picture away without you.’
Howard looked at the reclining nude with something of the lack of appreciation shown by Lady Constance on her introduction to it.
‘Why does Trout want the thing so bad?’
‘She’s like his last wife.’
‘She looks to me like a pig.’
‘So she does to Lord Emsworth. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t think she’s a Miss America. All you have to do is be under the window and earn your thousand dollars. Is it a deal?’
When she put it that way, Howard said it decidedly was.
‘Then that’s settled,’ said Vanessa briskly. ‘And you’d best be getting to your room and into bed as quick as you can, because I’m going to tell them to send you up a tray, and it would look funny if you weren’t there.’
Howard weighed the advice, and found it good. Soon after she had left he started to follow it. He went to the door, opened it, and immediately closed it again.
The man Halliday was coming along the corridor. He was accompanied by the Duke. Howard got the door shut just in time.
CHAPTER NINE
John, dressing in the room allotted to him on the second floor, was feeling extraordinarily fit. His swim had invigorated him, and unlike Lord Emsworth, reluctantly donning the soup and fish further along the corridor, he enjoyed dressing for dinner. Physically he could not have been in better shape; nor, he assured himself, was there anything wrong with his mental condition. He would have denied it warmly if anyone had told him he was at all nervous.
Thoughtful, yes. Meditative, certainly. But not nervous. Naturally there was bound to be a certain embarrassment when he and Linda met, but he was confident that the clarity with which he pleaded his case would soon overcome what Gally had called her sales resistance. Linda was a sensible girl. Quite understandably she had been a little annoyed by what had taken place in court when Clutterbuck and Frisby were fighting their legal battle, but now that she had had time to think it over she could hardly fail to see the thing in the right light. He would explain in simple language how he had been placed, love urging him one way, duty another, and she would applaud his integrity, realizing that any girl who got a husband with such high ethical standards was in luck. It would probably end with them having a good laugh together over the whole amusing affair.
It would be ridiculous to describe him as nervous.
Nevertheless, when the door suddenly flew open without warning, he leaped several inches in the direction of the ceiling with a distinct impression that his heart had crashed against his front teeth, nearly dislodging them from their base. Returning to earth, he saw that he had a visitor. A large stout densely moustached man with popping eyes had entered and was scrutinizing him intently, seeming particularly interested in the shirt which he had just pulled over his head. The Duke of Dunstable’s inquisitiveness did not confine itself to Lady Constance’s correspondence, he could also be intrigued by other people’s dress shirts.
‘Where you get that?’ he enquired.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘This,’ said the Duke, prodding with a large forefinger, and John replied civilly that he had obtained it at the emporium of Blake and Allsop in the Haymarket; whereupon the Duke, shaking his head reproachfully like one mourning the follies of youth said he ought to have gone to Gooch and Gordon in Regent Street. Better material and cheaper. He, too, he said, had once patronized Blake and Allsop, but had found them too expensive. He advised John to see the error of his ways and go to Gooch and Gordon in future.
‘Mention my name.’
He did not give his name. He went on the assumption that everyone knew it instinctively and that the few who did not deserved no consideration. Quick thinking, however, told John that this must be the man who, if all went well at the coming round table conference with Linda, he would shortly be calling Uncle Alaric, and there swept over him the same warm glow of affection which he would have felt for any near relation of the girl he loved. He might have wished her a slimmer uncle and one with a smaller moustache and a more melodious voice, but any uncle of hers was all right with him, and he thanked him for his advice with a respectful sincerity which he hoped would be recognized as coming straight from the heart.
‘So you’re the head-shrinker.’
On the verge of saying ‘I beg your pardon’ again, John remembered the junior partnership which entitled him to that description. He said he was, and the Duke said he thought all you fellows had beards.
‘You haven’t got a beard.’
‘No, no beard.’
‘That’s probably what Connie meant when she was beefing about you being young. You are young. How old would you say you were actually?’
‘I shall be twenty-seven in September.’
‘One of my fatheaded nephews is that, the other a bit younger, but you can’t go by age. They would be just as big fools if they were in the fifties. Married against my wishes, both of them. I should imagine you are all right, if you’re working with a big pot like Glossop. He’s good, isn’t he?’
‘Very.’
‘Right up there at the top?’
‘Oh, decidedly. Nobody to touch him.’
‘Pity we couldn’t have got him. Still, you’ll have to do.’
John said he would do his best to do, and the Duke proceeded.
‘Did Threepwood explain everything to you? About observing Emsworth and all that?’
‘Yes. I understand the situation.’
‘You seen him yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You’ll be able to run your eye over him at dinner. Threepwood told you he was definitely off his onion, of course?’
‘I gathered from what he said that Lord Emsworth was somewhat eccentric.’
The Duke would have none of this evasiveness. Professional caution, no doubt, but it annoyed him.
‘Eccentric be blowed. He’s potty to the core. Look at the way he talks about that pig of his. Anyone with half an eye can see it’s much too fat, and he insists it’s supposed to be fat. Says it’s been given medals for being fat, from which you will get a rough idea how far the malady has spread. What would a pig do with medals? Threepwood’s theory is that he got this way because someone took his all day sucker from him when he was six, but I think it goes deeper than that. I think he was born potty, though he may have been dropped on his head when a baby, which would have helped the thing along. But you’ll be able to form your own conclusions when you’ve observed him for a bit. How do you observe a fellow, by the way?’
It was an awkward question for one so lacking in experience as John, but he did his best.
‘Well, I … how shall I put it? … I, as it were, observe him.’
‘Ask him things, you mean?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You can’t make him lie on a couch. He’d get suspicious.’
‘No, we’ll be standing up.’
‘It works as well that way, does it?’
‘I have always found so.’
‘Then I’ll leave it to you with every confidence that you’ll be able to
put your finger on whatever it is that makes him the way he is. Threepwood tells me he will be paying your bill. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, that’s all arranged.’
‘I ask because I’m blowed if I’m going to shell out a lot of money just to be told why Emsworth is potty.’
‘Mr. Threepwood will be paying all expenses.’
‘Good. I wanted that clearly understood before you start. And a thought occurs to me. While you’re about it, why not cock an eye at some of the others here? Do you take on these jobs wholesale, or do you charge so much per person? Not that it affects me, as I’m not paying, but I’m curious.’
‘I would make a reduction for quantity. No doubt I could come to some arrangement with Mr. Threepwood. You feel that some of the residents in the castle would be the better for psychiatric treatment?’
‘Practically all of them. Blandings Castle at the moment is a hot bed of pottiness. Take that niece of mine …What’s the matter?’
‘Touch of cramp.’
‘Thought so when I saw you jump. Used to suffer from cramp myself. My doctor down in Wiltshire cured me. But I was telling you about my niece. The night before I came here she turned up at the hotel humming and giggling, and wouldn’t say why. It occurred to me later that she might have been in love, but I enquired of her on her arrival here and she said she wasn’t, and she was probably speaking the truth, for I haven’t heard her hum and giggle since. I was rather disappointed, for I had been hoping she might be in love with a very fine fellow I know on the Stock Exchange. Very rich. He’s been trying to get her to marry him since last November, and he’s only got to keep at it. It won’t take long, not with one of her branch of the family. Her late father was always falling in love till he married my late sister, when of course it stopped. Yes, I’d like you to keep an eye on her, though, as I say, she hasn’t hummed and giggled for some days. One can’t be sure it won’t break out again. And while you’re at it, take a look at a Miss Polk who’s staying here. One of Connie’s friends. There’s something wrong with her. The first day or two after her arrival she was bright and lively: used to talk sixteen to the dozen all the time to Threepwood, though what she found entertaining in him I couldn’t tell you: but now she falls into silences when I’m with her. A sort of film comes over her eyes, and she makes some excuse and legs it. That happened only this morning, when she was sitting on a bench in the park and I came along, and we got into conversation. It’s a bad sign.’
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