Angela's Christmas Adventure: An Angela Marchmont Short Story

by Clara Benson

  She finished her breakfast and went out into the hall. Barbara was nowhere to be seen—she was presumably already digging about enthusiastically in Mrs. Dressler’s dining-room—but as Angela looked up and down the corridor she once again saw the elderly gentleman in the polka-dot bow tie, standing not far from the lift, looking at something on the floor.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said.

  He looked up, tipped his hat with a smile, and then resumed his examination of whatever it was. Angela noticed that the floor was very dusty at the edges. Perhaps he was considering a complaint about the standards of cleanliness in the public areas—and she could hardly blame him, given the fanfare they had had recently from the building’s management in the matter of a newly-installed central vacuum cleaning system. Somewhat ironically, the dust had piled up so far in one place that it almost reached the bottom of the inlet valve for the vacuum hose. She pondered for a moment, then knocked at Mrs. Dressler’s door. Essie answered, and her tear-stained face announced clearly that the ring had not been found. The sound of scraping furniture could be heard, as well as Barbara’s voice, and Angela guessed her daughter was approaching the task with her usual enthusiasm.

  ‘I do hope she isn’t destroying the house,’ she said to Mrs. Dressler, who came out just then to greet her.

  ‘Oh, no, she’s being most helpful,’ said the old lady. ‘But I think it’s hopeless. Surely we’d have found it by now if it were anywhere to be found.’

  ‘I was just wondering about something,’ said Angela tentatively. ‘You said Essie was cleaning the dining-room when the ring went missing. What was she doing? Was she using the vacuum cleaner?’

  Mrs. Dressler turned to Essie.

  ‘Why, yes, you were, weren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Then might the ring have been sucked up accidentally?’ suggested Angela.

  Essie shook her head.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d thought of that, but I didn’t take the vacuum cleaner anywhere near that part of the room. You see—’ she gestured towards the dining-room, from where a series of muffled thumps indicated that Barbara was crawling about under the table, ‘—I only do the other side of the couch twice a week, and yesterday wasn’t the day. I never went anywhere near that end of the room.’

  Angela went to stand in the doorway. The dining-room was a large, spacious apartment that was evidently used not only for eating. At one end was the oak dining-table, which took up about two-thirds of the room. The remaining third was divided off by a long sofa, which, together with two overstuffed armchairs, formed a little sitting area. Against the wall to one side was a small, carved mahogany table, which was scattered with a few papers and was obviously used as a desk.

  ‘The ring was on that table, I take it,’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mrs. Dressler. ‘Jim was about to make it up into a parcel to send to the jeweller.’

  Angela walked into the room.

  ‘I only vacuumed this part, you see,’ said Essie, indicating the dining area. ‘I do the other end of the room Mondays and Fridays.’

  ‘And you’re sure you didn’t go any further than the sofa?’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes,’ said Essie. ‘Ask Mr. Dressler—he’ll tell you.’

  ‘Can you tell me exactly what happened? I mean to say, what were you and Mr. Dressler doing when the ring went missing?’

  ‘Why, like I said, I was cleaning the rug right here. Then I stopped for a minute, because I’d just spotted a cobweb up there in the far corner. So I went across and saw the most enormous spider sitting right in the middle of it, and I’m afraid I may have shrieked just a little, because the things scare me so. At any rate, I didn’t dare touch it, and Mr. Dressler came across and saw it and laughed at me for being so afraid. He took one of these chairs here and stood on it and picked the spider up and threw it out of the window. Then when he turned back to the table the ring was gone.’

  ‘How long did that take?’ said Angela. ‘That is, how long were you both looking at the spider?’

  ‘Why, I don’t know. Not more than five minutes, certainly.’

  ‘And your backs were turned away from the other end of the room and the desk all that time?’

  ‘I guess so,’ said the maid.

  Something had attracted Angela’s attention. She moved around the dining-table and looked through a pair of glass doors which gave out onto a small terrace or balcony. The snow had begun to fall again, and was forming a thin layer on top of a little table and chairs, which sat, forlornly waiting for summer. Angela had a similar terrace in her own apartment, and knew that it ran along as far as the drawing-room, to which it was connected by another set of doors.

  ‘Was this door open while you were cleaning?’ she asked.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ said Essie. ‘Just this little window up here next to it.’

  The window in question was undoubtedly far too small and high up for anyone to have climbed in. Angela frowned in perplexity. She was about to question Essie further, when she saw that the girl’s lip was beginning to tremble, and so decided not to press further, since she had no wish to bring on another fit of crying.

  Barbara emerged from under the dining-table.

  ‘No luck,’ she said. ‘I can’t think where it’s got to.’

  Just then the doorbell rang and Essie answered it to admit a girl of perhaps twenty. This was Frances Ellery, Mrs. Dressler’s niece. She was clear-skinned and very pretty, and was wearing an expression of great consternation.

  ‘Oh, Aunt Minnie, Jim’s just told me everything!’ she cried, and burst into tears.

  Mrs. Dressler clucked and fussed about her, and eventually Frances calmed down enough to explain what had happened.

  ‘He came to beg pardon because he’d wanted to propose, but he couldn’t, because he’d lost the ring,’ she said. ‘I said I didn’t care about a silly old ring, I only want him, but I couldn’t make him see sense. He says he’s not worthy of me, and he can’t think of asking me to marry him until he’s put things right.’

  ‘Why, the silly boy!’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘I’m afraid he’s taken it too much to heart. What can we do to make him see sense?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Frances, sniffing. ‘He went away and said he wouldn’t come back until he’d scraped together enough money to pay for the loss and buy me a new ring. I tried and tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he just wouldn’t listen.’

  Here the tears resumed, just as the doorbell rang again. This time the visitors were a smartly-dressed gentleman of fifty or so, who was carrying a walking-stick, and a younger man, who removed a cigar from his mouth hurriedly as the door opened. Angela recognized the older one as Willard Geary, Mrs. Dressler’s lawyer, and guessed that the other was his son.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr. Geary, eyeing Frances in polite concern. ‘Randolph and I didn’t want to intrude, but we couldn’t pass without coming to inquire whether you’d found your ring.’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘But it’s terribly good of you to think of us and stop by.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ said the young man.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘Our young neighbour here is doing a fine job of searching. It’s not so much the ring itself as the upset it’s caused.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea of what might have happened to it, Mr. Geary?’ said Angela.

  ‘I only wish I did,’ said Willard Geary. ‘Randolph and I talked it over when we left yesterday, and we agreed that it was all very mysterious.’

  Randolph shook his head in agreement.

  ‘I wondered perhaps whether it had gone under the rug,’ he said.

  ‘We thought of that, too,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘But it’s not there.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Mr. Geary. ‘I only wish I could suggest something more useful.’

  ‘Please don’t give it another thought,’ said Mrs. Dressler.
‘It’s a pity, but it was only a ring, when all’s said and done. I know it belonged to my dear mother, but—well—she’s not here to be disturbed by the loss. I guess we’ll just have to resign ourselves to it.’

  At that, Frances began sniffing again, and Essie started to sob. Mr. Geary and his son, uncomfortable, perhaps, in the presence of so much female emotion, bowed and departed, while Angela also took the opportunity to make her escape, leaving Barbara to continue the search.

  ONCE BACK IN her own apartment, Angela summoned William, her driver and man-of-all-work. The Bentley had had to be sold when Angela had left London, and William was now in charge of a modest Packard, much to his disgust. At present, he was looking forward to spending Christmas in Pittsburgh with his mother, whom he had not seen in some years.

  ‘All set, William?’ said Angela. ‘At what time is your train on Monday?’

  ‘Ten o’clock, ma’am,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, don’t forget to check the tyres on the car and fill the tank up before you go. I shall be needing it. Now, listen, I want to talk to you about this ring business of Mrs. Dressler’s. I might have stayed and talked to her about it, but everyone was wailing, and it was rather difficult to concentrate with all the noise. The thing seems to have disappeared altogether, and no-one knows where. I suspect it’s gone into the vacuum cleaner, but the maid denies it, and I could hardly accuse her of lying—not without having to endure another fit of weeping, at any rate. But they’re all awfully upset, and they’ve been very nice to us, so I’d like to help them if I can.’

  ‘All right. What do you want me to do?’ he said.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not going to be pleasant,’ she said apologetically. ‘Do you have a pair of overalls?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good. Go and put them on. This may get a little dirty.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am,’ said William with resignation, and went off to do as he was bid.

  Ten minutes later they were standing by the door to the basement.

  ‘The dirt must go somewhere,’ said Angela, ‘and if I remember correctly from all that dull literature they sent us when they installed it, it’s down here. Now, what—’

  ‘Hey, you!’ came an indignant voice suddenly. ‘Whatcha doin’ down here?’

  Angela turned and saw a figure approaching. It was small and wizened, and appeared to be a man, although it was difficult to tell for certain, since he was covered with a layer of grime and soot. His hair stood up on end, and what they could see of his face was screwed up into an expression of general malevolence.

  ‘Oh—er—good morning,’ said Angela. ‘Are you the janitor?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’ said the man, squinting at her.

  ‘I live upstairs on the tenth floor, and I want to speak to someone about the new vacuum cleaning system.’

  The man made a noise in his throat that sounded for all the world as though he were about to spit, but then appeared to think better of it.

  ‘You too, huh?’ he said. ‘Why should I tell you anything? What’s it worth?’

  ‘Not as much as you’re obviously hoping,’ said Angela severely. ‘Now, try and remember whatever manners you were taught as a child and answer my questions, and I may be persuaded not to put in a complaint about you at the next tenants’ meeting.’

  This evidently cut no ice with the janitor, who merely smirked unpleasantly. Angela sighed and gave him some money, which he pocketed.

  ‘Spit it out,’ he said.

  ‘When were the vacuum cleaners last emptied?’ said Angela.

  ‘Wednesday,’ replied the janitor shortly. The addition of cash did not appear to have improved his disposition.

  ‘That’s only two days ago,’ said Angela. ‘Then it may not be too bad after all, William.’ She turned back to the little man. ‘I’m looking for something rather valuable, and I think it might be inside one of the machines. Would you mind if we had a look?’

  ‘Long as you don’t expect me to do it,’ said the janitor.

  They entered the basement, which was hot and stuffy, for it was home to the furnace which heated the whole building. In one corner stood the strangest looking apparatus, consisting of a large, metal cylinder, perhaps a foot taller than the height of a tall man, and two other machines almost as tall that looked rather like rockets, each with a motor at the top. The whole was connected together by a series of metal pipes, while another maze of pipes fed into the wall, and presumably up through the building to the various apartments.

  ‘Piece of junk,’ said the janitor, looking at the thing in disdain.

  ‘This is the vacuum cleaner, is it?’ said Angela.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘How does one get inside it?’

  He merely gave another smirk, then shrugged and turned to leave.

  ‘Want me to punch him?’ whispered William, as the little man disappeared back up the stairs.

  ‘Not today, thank you,’ said Angela, ‘although I won’t say the offer’s not tempting. Now, let’s see: if I remember correctly, there ought to be two trays in each machine—one for dust, and one for larger bits of rubbish.’

  ‘Here,’ said William. He pulled at the lower part of one of the rockets. It came away suddenly and disgorged a cloud of dust into his face, which brought on a fit of coughing that lasted some minutes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Angela in concern.

  ‘I guess so,’ he replied at last. He wiped his streaming eyes and peered into the pan he had just pulled out. ‘This must be the one that holds the dust. There’s not very much of it.’

  ‘Lucky for you it’s just been emptied,’ said Angela. ‘Don’t bother sifting through it too carefully—I doubt something as big as a ring could pass through the filter.’

  William shook the tray gently from side to side.

  ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Nothing here.’

  ‘Very well, what about the pan for larger sweepings? This must be it here, at the top.’

  William pulled this one out with greater care. It, too, contained dust, as well as all sorts of odd bits of rubbish, such as pieces of food, lengths of string and ribbon tangled together, and even what looked suspiciously like a human tooth. However, there was no ring. William sighed and replaced the pan.

  ‘Better try the other one,’ he said. ‘I won’t bother with the dust pan this time.’

  He pulled out the top tray on the other machine, and poked about in it for some minutes without result.

  ‘No go,’ he said at last.

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Angela. ‘I was almost certain we’d find it. Very well, then, let’s go back and you can clean yourself up.’

  Halfway to the stairs she paused.

  ‘I suppose one ought to do the thing thoroughly,’ she said. She turned and went back to the second machine, and before William could call out a warning, pulled out the bottom tray. The next few moments were unpleasant ones.

  ‘One might have thought,’ she said with dignity, once she had stopped coughing, ‘that I should have learned from your mistake, William.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said the young man, who was doing his best not to laugh.

  ‘Very well, then,’ she said, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. ‘Since I appear to have made a fright of myself already, I might as well do the grubbing about this time.’

  But William was having none of it. He took the dust tray from her and shook it carefully.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, then, ‘Oh, but what’s this?’

  He reached in and brought something out. It was a tiny turquoise stone. They looked at each other in triumph.

  ‘This must be the loose stone Mrs. Dressler mentioned,’ said Angela. ‘Then I was right—the ring was sucked up. But where is it? This stone is small enough to have passed through into the dust tray, but the ring itself ought to be in the other one.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose we’ll have to search the top pan again.’

  William shook his head.

  ‘T
here’s no need. I’d swear on my life there was no ring there,’ he said.

  ‘Then what happened to it? Do you suppose it got stuck somewhere on the way down?’

  ‘I guess it’s possible.’

  But Angela had just thought of something.

  ‘What did the janitor mean just now?’ she said.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘When I asked about the vacuum cleaner, he said, “You too?” Who else has been asking about it?’

  ‘You think someone got here before us?’ said William.

  ‘Let’s go and find out,’ said Angela.

  They found the little janitor sitting in his cubby-hole at the back of the building. He threw them a contemptuous glance.

  ‘Has someone else been asking about the vacuum cleaner recently?’ said Angela immediately, since there was clearly no use in buttering him up with polite preliminaries.

  He squinted at her and gave a wheezing cackle. Angela, conscious of the fact that her face and hair were coated with dust, fixed him with a haughty stare, which abashed him not in the slightest. Then at last he tapped his nose deliberately three times.

  ‘I don’t know nothin’,’ he said, and turned away from her.

  Angela gave it up and they returned to the lift.

  ‘Someone has obviously bribed him,’ she said as they ascended. ‘However, I refuse to pay him any more money to find out who it was. Still, we know where the ring went first, so all we have to do is find out where it is now.’

  ‘Do you think Essie did it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Angela. ‘She swears she didn’t go anywhere near it—and if she had, then surely Mrs. Dressler’s nephew would have spoken up.’

  ‘Maybe he did it.’

  ‘Maybe he did. I hope not, though, since it’s starting to look rather as though it was taken deliberately.’

  ‘You mean because it wasn’t inside the machine, while the turquoise stone was?’

  ‘Exactly. That wretched little man won’t tell us, but I think someone went down and got the ring out of the rubbish pan yesterday.’