by Dion Fortune
CHAPTER XXVII
IF there is one thing that is worse than another, it is Christmas when you aren't feeling festive. Not being officially in mourning, I was not entitled to any overt display of grief, so had to bottle it all up inside me as best I might. Sally, I think, guessed, but I could not discuss it with her because there was so much I could not tell her, and so little the simple old soul would have understood if I had. Scottie was sick, and anyway he wasn't sympathetic. So I went round to the "George" and told the wine waiter that I had been crossed in love and had he anything in the cellars that would console me? I woke up there next morning, and Sally collected me, saying that Christmas often used to take her old man the same way. That evening my sister had a party for the Friendly Girls, and insisted that I should lend a hand. I tried to get out of it and go to bed, for I was more dead than alive, but she kept on at me, and finally the worm turned and I agreed. I kissed the bloody lot under the mistletoe till my sister had hysterics in the study and phoned for the vicar; then I shoved brandy and champagne in the temperance shandygaff and cleared off. By the time the vicar arrived, the girls had drunk the shandygaff. I found bits of mistletoe all over the house next morning. I bet it was some party! He must have found them genuinely friendly girls for once, to judge from the distribution of the mistletoe. I was very glad to get back into harness next morning. I had had enough of holiday-making and Christmas revelry, and so, I think, had my sister. Sally was seedy, too; she had been Christmassing at the house of a "married son and it had disagreed with her. In the small hours of the morning she was taken with a heart attack to which I had had to minister with what was left over from the shandygaff. As I went out to the bank, I saw cylinders of oxygen being taken into Scottie's house. So altogether it was some Christmas. But the fun hadn't finished yet. I was received at the office by Scottie's secretary, whose poor little countenance was decorated with a carefully camouflaged black eye. Blushing and squirming, she asked me if I had meant to give her what I had given her. I began to wonder whether, amid so much battle, murder, and sudden death, poison had got into the chocolates, and asked her what was amiss. She asked me if I knew what I had given her. I told her that I had bought them as chocolates. She said that it wasn't chocolates at all, but jewellery. Then I knew what had happened. Treth had given me Morgan's star sapphires to put in the bank till the extremely unlikely event of the clause in Morgan's will becoming operative, and in the dark of the garage I had taken up the wrong parcel out of the back of the car where I had dumped all the dunnage. The chocolates were safely in the strong-room at the bank and Scottie's secretary had the sapphires. I apologised hastily and abjectly for my mistake, and explained that the sapphires did not belong to me, but that I was responsible for them, and must ask her for them back. She looked as if about to expire with mortification, and explained that she hadn't got them; her stepfather had taken them from her and was hanging on to them. That, I thought, explains the black eye. She had probably gone counter to parental authority in her honesty. If she had said nothing, the chocolates would have stayed at the bank till they mummified and she would have got away with the sapphires. Of course star sapphires are not worth as much as the unflawed kind, but even so, Morgan's set would have represented a small fortune to a girl in her position. Blushing very self-consciously, the girl tendered me a letter. "This was inside," she said. "That was how I knew they were not for me." I took the envelope, and saw that it was addressed to the recipient of the sapphires. "If you don't mind my mentioning it," said Scottie's secretary, "I think you ought to seal it up again, and not read it till you give it to the person it is meant for." So then and there, in her presence, I sealed it up.- Then I asked her who her stepfather was, as I now had the task before me of recovering the sapphires from his hands, and to judge by her eye, he was heavy-handed. When she told me who he was, you could have knocked me down with a feather, for he was Muckley, the lowest porkbutcher in the town. He hung out in the bend of the river where our local slum was, that I have spoken of before, and he had a fourteenth-century house that would have been all right as Ye Olde Tea Shoppe, but was damned insanitary as a butcher's. I had been getting a move on about that slum, having bought the house the cedar came from, and Muckley was organising the opposition. He would. He was that sort. It amazed me that a refined, educated girl like Scottie's secretary should have come out of that awful pork shop, but then I remembered that Muckley was her stepfather and not her father. I asked her what her name was, and she told me Molly Coke. The name woke memories, and I asked her if she were any connection of my old schoolmaster, and she told me she was his daughter. Then I remembered her as a little dark-eyed, palefaced thing, who used to play in the playground when we were in school, and come in when we came out. I wondered what had become of the lovely for whom my late dominie had deserted his wife and family, and incidentally his means of livelihood, for since his wife had remarried he was obviously dead, divorces being beyond the means of the likes of them. So leaving Molly Coke in charge of the office, I went round to interview the amiable Muckley and make him disgorge the sapphires. His beastly shop wasn't open, but there was a terrific screeching coming from the back premises, so it evidently soon would be. I saw the Cruelty to Animals man craning his neck out of a top window down the street, trying to get a line on what was happening; he had a down on Muckley, who was popularly credited with omitting to kill the pig before he started making the sausages. I waited till the screeching died away in a wail, and then began to hammer on the door. After a bit this elicited Mrs Muckley, late Coke. I remembered her as a quiet, neutral sort of creature, who seldom spoke but contented herself with waiting on her flamboyant husband, and was probably, if the truth were known, the man of the family. I certainly should not have know her. Her hair was quite white, and she looked to me as if she hadn't got much longer in this world. I told her my errand, and she flushed nervously and went to fetch her husband. I could hear his voice booming away out at the back, and he didn't sound amiable. The place smelt too awful for words, having been shut up and unaircd over the holidays. Presently he appeared, covered with pig and offensively hearty, whereas I had expected, from the "noises off" that I would be lucky if I didn't get my own eye blacked--and proceeded to do the finest lying I have ever heard, and an auctioneer and estate agent is a connoisseur of lying. "Yus," he said, "I told Molly she'd have to hand back them stones, they wasn't for her. But it's no good her saying I've got 'em because I haven't. She's got 'em. You make her hand 'em back, Mr Maxwell, the thievin' little huzzy." "So she's done the snitching, has she?" said I. "Yus," said he, "she's done the snitching." "And did she do the eye-blacking too?" He gave me a nasty look. Then I set to and told him what I thought of him. He looked surprised. He hadn't expected anything like that from Mr Wilfred Maxwell, the only son of his mother, and she a widow. He went and fetched the sapphires, meek as Moses. All the same, I wondered what sort of a reception poor Molly Coke would meet with when she got home. He would have to do something to restore his deflated amour propre. When I got back to the office I told her the line Muckley had taken with me; I also gave her a bowdlerised version of the line I had taken with him, and said she was to let me know if she had any trouble with him and I would call round again and say it with flowers; but she never complained, so I concluded that she had nothing to complain about, beyond, of course, what anyone would have to complain about who had to associate with Muckley We shuffled along for the next few days, I picking up the threads of the business as best I could with Molly Coke's help, for I had been leaving everything to Scottic. We had half a dozen assorted clerks and clerklcts, but no one had any head worth mentioning except Molly, Scottie believing in keeping everything in his own hands as being the best way of ensuring efficiency and honesty. So it may be, in normal times, but any disorganisation hits you hard. I had to take the weekly auctions in the cattle market, than which I hate nothing more, and had some nastiness with Muckley over a very dud lot of pigs he put in, and that I referred to the sanitary
inspector. He and his farmer friends tried to bounce me with their superior knowledge of pigs, but I exercised my rights as a licensed auctioneer and rode roughshod over them. I mayn't know much about pigs, but I know a lot about Muckley, and there must be something pretty wrong with any pigs that he wouldn't risk sausaging. I was right, too, for the whole party were tubercular. Well, things were beginning to look up a bit with me, and I was getting my sleep back, when the next blow fell. I came down one morning, and wondering why I hadn't heard Sally stirring, went up to her room and found her lying dead in her bed. Poor old soul, I suppose it was merciful; she had been ailing a lot lately, and getting very tired, and nothing would induce her to have help. It was the way I should wish to go when my time comes, if I have the choice; but I don't suppose I shall have. Asthma wears you down, it doesn't knock you out. I can never see why we mourn for the dead; it is much more rational to mourn for the bereaved. I owed a lot to Sally, she was a real good soul. My sister was annoyed with me for being so upset over the loss of a servant. Said it was undignified. She would soon find me another. I said, what about a Friendly Girl? I had taken rather a fancy to them, and she was always trying to get them nice, refined jobs. That settled her. She would have nothing further to do with the matter after that, which was what I had intended. So I asked Molly Coke to see what she could fit me up with. But it wasn't as simple as it seemed, apparently. The municipal elections were coming on shortly, and parish relief was being doled out in dollops, so chars were hard to come by. She said I would have to make shift with the office cleaner till she had time to search out something for me. So she sent over a horrible cross between a slattern and a virago. I had always thought the offices looked pretty dingy, and now I knew why. I asked Molly why we didn't fire the creature, and she said that Scottie's wife took an interest in her. I said it would be much more helpful if Scottie's father-in-law took an interest in her, and for the first time in my experience Molly laughed. Mrs Leake's deficiencies did not matter so much when I was up and doing, as I fed at the house, but it was a different matter when I went down with one of my goes of asthma. Benger's food, on which I rely on these occasions, is by no means foolproof, and Mrs. Leakc was a fool. "I thought you wanted slops," she said sulkily when I complained. "Yes," said I, "but not bedroom slops." She must have repeated my remark, which I admit was not in the best of taste, for Molly appeared to see what was amiss, and took away that loathly bowlful and made me some that was decent. Then she fetched her pad and took my letters, and we carried on like that till I was better, Mrs Leake doing the cleaning, and Molly doing my food. I gave her Sally's key, which I wouldn't trust Mrs Leake with, for although she might be honest enough, I was pretty certain her husband wasn't. He worked for Muckley as general roustabout and did any dirty work that was going, and there was plenty going in that firm, believe me. My asthma was changing its form. Instead of the acute attacks with gaps between, it was becoming less acute and more chronic. I wheezed pretty nearly all the time now, but the attacks were less severe. I don't know which form of asthma I prefer. I suppose the one I don't happen to have at the moment. Scottie's influenza had turned to pneumonia, and they were very anxious about him. So what with one thing and another, ve were a party of crocks. They say that troubles never come singly, and I reckon they are right. I was beginning to get over the acute phase of the loss of Morgan. Time is a great healer, and does its job whether we want it to or not; but there was nothing, either in time or eternity, that could fill the gap that was left in my life or make Dickford existence tolerable to me. If the truth were known, I was drinking a dashed sight more than was good for me, but I did not think that anyone but the winewaiter at the "George" knew, and he used to talk to me like a father, and bring me a lager when I ordered whisky, and pretend he had muddled the order. The loss of Sally was a heavy blow, quite apart from the fact that she had been a dashed good soul. Mrs Leake was a poor sort of creature; any bed she made was a rag-heap, any fire she laid wouldn't light; she was always forgetting to fill up the coal-scuttle, and if there is one thing I can't do, it is lug coal-scuttles. I couldn't very well get Molly round to cart coal, and I couldn't sit in a fireless room all evening, so I used to go round to the commercial room at the "George' and that got me drinking still more, for you can't very well spend the evening in a place like that and not pay your footing. So altogether I was making a mess of things when the curtain rang up for the grand finale. I was over in my quarters after lunch when my sister sent the maid down with a message to say there was someone at the house who wanted to see me. I went over, quite unsuspicious, and found my sister entertaining Muckley. I felt pretty surprised, for the natural thing was for him to have come to the office if he wanted to see me, not go intruding on the house, for he could hardly expect to be on calling terms with us. My sister was looking exactly like the Wolf in the pantomime, getting ready to eat Little Red Riding Hood. I saw she was fearfully pleased about something, and wondered what in the world was afoot. I couldn't imagine what Muckley could have made her a present of that had pleased her so much. She soon explained however. "Mr Muckley has come here to speak to us about his daughter." "Stepdaughter," I corrected. "He says you've seduced her, Wilfred." "Good God!" said I. It was the only thing I could think of. I was so completely taken aback. "Do you deny it?" "Of course I do. There's not a word of truth in it." "You have been having her over in your rooms a great deal," said my sister, for which I could have kicked her, for it was the last thing she ought to have said under the circumstances, but she had too little sense and experience and knowledge of the world to know it. "She has only been taking my letters while I was laid up," said I. "You seem to have had a lot of letters lately," said she. "Especially late in the evening." As a matter of fact, Molly had been coming over and doing my supper for me, and generally settling me for the night. As Mrs Leake was there too, I had thought we were all right, but my sister was simply making Muckley a present of the situation without realising in the least what she was doing, and there was no way of stopping her, short of knocking her insensible, when once she started on this tack. I mentioned Mrs Leake. "Yus," said Muckley. "It's what Mrs Leake 'as bin telling us wot put me and my wife on your track." Then I saw what was afoot. I wondered whether Molly was a party to it, but instantly acquitted her. She was not that sort. I referred him to Beardmore as a witness that it was physically impossible for me to meddle with the girl when I had asthma. "I don't see what he can know about it as he wasn't there," said my sister. "And anyway, you men always stick up for each other." There was a knock at the door, and in came Molly, note-book in hand. "I am sorry to have been so long," she said to me, "but there was someone on the phone for Mr Scott." I guessed my sister had sent for her in my name as if the message had come from me. She looked at Muckley, and by the way she looked at him I saw that although she was surprised to see him in our drawing-room, she knew what was afoot all right. I could see her square her shoulders and brace herself to meet it. She was a good-plucked kid. "Miss Coke," I said, "your stepfather has been complaining of my conduct towards you. Have you any complaints to make about it?" "None," said she. "They never 'ave," said Muckley. "All the same, she's lost 'er reputation, even if there ain't more unpleasant consequences, and me and 'cr mother 'ave got to live it down. Wot about it, Mr Maxwell?" "Yes," said my sister. "What are you going to do about it, Wilfred?" I knew what was coming all right, even if she didn't, and nothing would suit me better than to get Muckley to make his demands in front of witnesses, if I could possibly lure him into that trap. "What do you want me to do about it?" said I to Muckley. "Are you willing to marry 'er?" said Muckley. "Yes," said I. It was the last thing they expected. A gasp went round the room, and was echoed from the hall, where the servants were listening. It was also the last thing Muckley wanted. He never thought for a moment I had been up to any hanky-panky with Molly, I am perfectly certain, and wouldn't have cared if I had; so it spiked his guns nicely, as he couldn't very well claim compensation in the face of that. My sister's reac
tion was too funny for words. She had been 1[ all on the side of the angels when it was a question of immo- | rality, but she went straight up in the air at the idea of righting | the wrong. I don't suppose such a possibility had ever entered <| her head. She is extraordinarily obtuse in some ways. "You can't possibly do that, Wilfred," said she, very tartly indeed. "Why not? "said I. (' "You can't afford it," said she. j "Can't we economise?" said I, pulling her leg. "No, we can't," said she.