“Daddy!” shouted Archer. “You forgot to leave a cheque for Mummy. You promised and you forgot.”
Renny halted on the driveway. “Tell her I’ll write it when I come back.”
“She told me to say she wants it now.”
“By Judas!” he exclaimed irritably, and flung back toward the house.
Alayne met him in the hall. “I am very sorry to bring you back,” she said, with a certain crispness in her voice, “but I have promised the grocer to pay him today. He calls about eleven o’clock. You promised to write the cheque before you went out.”
“I know, I know!” He seated himself at the writing table in the sitting room and took a book of blank cheques from the drawer. He added, “I can tell you that money is very scarce at the moment.”
“when was it anything else?”
With his eyes on the cheque he was writing, he said, “Alayne, these are exceptional times. It will be different after the war.”
“It will never be different while so much money is spent on the stables. Even Piers says that the show horses should be sold.”
“Oh, we’ve gone over all that!” he exclaimed.
“It’s useless, I know, to reason with you about certain things.”
He handed her the cheque.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but Mrs. Wragge tells me you’ve forgotten to give them their wages.”
He struck his forehead. “what’s the matter with me?” he exclaimed. “I never used to be so absentminded.” He wrote a second cheque and put it in her hand.
“Please let me see the cheques,” said Archer.
“They are of no interest to you,” said Alayne.
“I want to see how much you pay the grocer and how much you pay cook.”
“That is not your affair, dear. Run out and play.”
“I’m tired.”
“Then read your book.”
Archer took up the book without enthusiasm and trotted after Renny. Striding across the lawn, Renny asked, “what is the name of your book?”
“why, it’s Robin Hood. It’s a lovely story. Don’t you remember Mummy bought it for me the day I went to the dentist?”
“I’d forgotten.”
Archer stared up at him inquisitively. “why is your memory so poor?” he asked.
“Perhaps because of the bash I got on the head.”
“I’m glad my memory is good. My grandfather, Professor Archer, had a wonderful memory. He never forgot anything.”
“Probably he’d never had a bash on the head.”
“May I come with you?”
“No. I’m going to see Mr. Clapperton. But you may come as far as his gate.” He took the little boy’s hand. The dogs trotted importantly alongside. At a small gate in the boundary fence, Renny left them and followed the old familiar path to the familiar door. He knocked. It seemed to him that the knock sounded hollow through the house. He thought of Maurice Vaughan, his friend who had lived there, his untidy hair, his smile that had so lighted his rather heavy face, the pipe always in his hand. He thought of his sister Meg’s warm presence, of Patience as a child running to meet him. He was shown into Mr. Clapperton’s presence who greeted him with a frosty smile. He half-rose from the desk at which he was seated, then sank back, his expression so arrogant as to seem to enquire, “And what can I do for you, my good man?”
Renny greeted him with determined cheerfulness and, when he was invited to, sat down. He said:
“I came here this morning to see if we could talk over this affair in a more friendly spirit.” His grin, as he looked into Mr. Clapperton’s pale eyes, would have done credit to the wolf before he devoured Red Riding Hood’s grandmother.
“I am always ready to discuss any affair with a neighbour, in that spirit, Colonel Whiteoak. But I must say you weren’t very friendly when you last called.”
“I know I wasn’t. That’s why I’ve come back.”
“If you’ve come here with any idea of making me change my mind, you are wasting your time.”
“I only want to put your own case clearly before you. Will you object to that?”
“No.”
Renny Whiteoak regarded him almost kindly. “I think,” he said, “that you bought this property with the intention of settling down here for the rest of your life.”
“I did.”
“And you found the neighbourhood kindly disposed toward you?”
“Until you appeared on the scene — yes.”
Renny gave a short, triumphant laugh. “There,” he exclaimed, “you have hit the nail on the head at once! Till I came on the scene!”
“what do you mean?”
“I mean that I have a lot of influence here. I mean that, if you carry out this scheme of yours in opposition to me, you won’t have a friend in the neighbourhood. Not one member of my family will tolerate you.”
Eugene Clapperton’s colour rose. “There are others.”
“who?”
“The Rector, for one.”
“Good God! The Rector has baptized, married, or buried some one or other of all the family. My grandfather built the church. This is a small close community. You are nothing to anyone in it.”
“You are mistaken, Colonel Whiteoak. The three young girls at the fox farm have a deep feeling for me. And I for them. I am the only person who had the initiative and the generosity to help that poor crippled girl.”
Renny Whiteoak stared speechless.
“Between you and me,” Eugene Clapperton burst out, “I hope, when she’s fully recovered, to make her my wife. Of course, this is in strict confidence.”
“By Judas!” was all the master of Jalna could say.
“So you see I have a stake in the community, and a very large one.”
“Marry the girl or not, you can’t build that village. I’ll make it impossible to live in.”
“what do you mean, sir?”
“How would you like a fine healthy piggery built right at the boundary line — not fifty feet from the nearest house? I own the fields all down one side of your village. I’ll fill them with piggeries. I’ll build an incinerator and smoke you out.”
Eugene Clapperton raised his voice so high that it cracked. “You seem to forget,” he cried, “that there is such a thing as the law to protect peaceable citizens of this country. Well — I’ll get the protection of the law if you begin to threaten me or make nuisances for my tenants.”
“The law couldn’t do a thing to stop me.”
Eugene Clapperton smiled sarcastically. “We’ll see. You may find yourself with a heavy fine to pay. I guess that would put a crimp in you. Now, money is not scarce with me. I’ve plenty of it. I can afford to have the best lawyers to protect my interests. Just take a look at this, will you?” He placed his fingers on a pile of new bank notes that lay on the desk. “There’s a thousand dollars in that pile. It is to pay my workmen’s wages and for current expenses for which I require cash. I don’t want to boast, Colonel Whiteoak, but that’s a very small sum to me.”
Renny stood up grinning. “I think I’ll go,” he said. “The impulse to kick your behind is becoming irresistible.”
Mr. Clapperton drew back. Renny advanced a step. He intended nothing more forceful than a touch on Mr. Clapperton’s chest to emphasize his next words which, to judge by his expression, were to be of a jocular nature. But the look, the gesture, were intimidating to the other. He wheeled and left the room with a white face.
He went into the dining room where Sidney Swift was sitting by the paper-strewn table. He raised his eyes as his employer entered.
“what’s wrong?” he asked.
“That man — that red-headed devil! I just had to leave the room. He was threatening me again. Go to him, Sidney, and order him out of the house. Tell him to get out!” He walked nervously about the room.
Swift rose and, looking through the window, saw Renny Whiteoak cross the lawn.
“He’s gone,” he said.
Eugene Clappe
rton came to his side and peered also.
“I won’t stand it!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have him arrested for breach of the peace. If he ever lays a finger on me —”
“Oh, he won’t do that.”
“He won’t, won’t he? I wish you could have seen his face. I tell you he put his hand out toward me. I pity him if he ever touches me. He’s threatened to — twice. You can testify to that, Sidney. Get me a drink. I feel all in.”
Swift went to the sideboard. “whisky and soda?” he asked.
“No. Get the flask of brandy out of my desk. Lock the french window. He must have gone out that way. I wouldn’t put it past that man to come back and make more trouble. He’s a reckless, dangerous brute. Sidney, bring me my diary, too. I was writing in it when he came. I’ll make an entry saying he threatened me. It might come in useful if I brought a suit against him.”
“It certainly would,” said Swift.
By the time he returned with the flask, Eugene Clapperton was impatient. “Well, you were a long time,” he said peevishly. Swift saw that his hands were trembling.
“The flask was not in the desk,” he returned coolly. “It was in the little cabinet in the corner.” He got a glass from the sideboard. “Better have a good stiff one,” he added.
“Yes.”
Eugene Clapperton again went to the window and peered out. “Did you lock the french window?” he asked.
“Yes.” He himself took a little brandy.
Sitting sipping the stimulant, Eugene Clapperton’s colour returned. “what do you suppose that man said?” he asked.
“Goodness knows.”
“He said that, if I opposed him, I’d not have a single friend in the neighbourhood.”
“I don’t dispute it.”
This was one of the moments, and there were a good many of them, when Mr. Clapperton disliked his young secretary. Now he exclaimed angrily:
“It’s perfect nonsense. I’ve as many friends as he has. I’ll make him look small before I’ve finished with him. He threatened to build a piggery right beside the village. And an incinerator to smoke my tenants out.”
Swift smiled. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I wish,” exclaimed Mr. Clapperton, “that he’d got a bullet through him over there.”
Swift set down his glass. He said, “I’m due at my pupil’s place shortly. Will it be all right if I leave now?”
“I should think,” said Eugene Clapperton, with some severity, “that you would not like to go to teach a youth like Maurice, smelling of brandy.”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“Go along then. I think I shall walk over to the fox farm. I get a great deal of pleasure from the society of those girls, Sidney. They are friends who would not change for anything he could say or do.”
“I am sure they wouldn’t.”
“They mean more to me — especially one of them — than I’ve ever let on. I don’t suppose you’ve guessed anything like that.” A dull pink crept into Eugene Clapperton’s cheeks. “I’ll bet you’ve never guessed that, Sidney.”
Swift gave a short laugh that was without mirth. “Oh, I’ve suspected it.”
“Can you guess which one?”
“Darned if I can.”
“Try.”
“You’d better tell me.”
“I’m not going to tell you. Not just yet. Run along. Don’t stay too late, Sidney. I may need you.”
Swift ran upstairs, changed his shoes and soon was pedalling along the country road on his bicycle. Mr. Clapperton returned to the small room where he had interviewed Renny Whiteoak. From the drawer of his desk he took a small mirror and a comb. He combed his hair though it was tidy enough, took a good look at himself and was not without complacency. Certainly he was a contrast to that red-headed Whiteoak who was apparently always on his uppers, always short of funds, who had cast an obviously envious glance at the pile of bank notes on the desk. Mr. Clapperton turned smiling to put away the bank notes. “I’m darned careless to leave money lying about like that,” he said aloud. “You’d think, the way I act, that a thousand dollars was something you could pick up on the street, like a stick of chewing gum.”
But the complacency left his face, the smile left his face, as he looked at the place where the pile of bank notes had been. They were not there! They were gone. He stared at the top of the desk dumbfounded.
He thought, “Now let me keep cool, I mustn’t get rattled. The money was here. It is here. I must have put it in one of the drawers without thinking.” He tore open one drawer after another. He turned out their contents, handled and re-handled the papers till there was complete confusion among them. Perhaps he had carried the notes into the dining room — he’d been excited. But no — he’d backed right away from Renny Whiteoak without going to the desk.
“I must not get rattled,” he thought, but he was rattled. He walked in a circle about the room. The money was gone. He had drawn Renny Whiteoak’s attention to it — that proved it had been there on the desk during the interview. Now it was gone. It had been on the desk. He’d seen it, pointed to it. But now it was gone.
Suddenly he stood stock still, petrified by the thought that had broken on him. Why — Renny Whiteoak, that hard-faced, hard-up rascal, had stolen the money! Just walked off with it, jammed into the pockets of his jacket, like a highwayman, like a thug, believing he could get away with it, believing Eugene Clapperton was so rich, so soft, he would do nothing about it. But he would do something about it. He’d raise hell about it.
He took the receiver from the telephone and rang up Piers’ house. He left a message for Sidney Swift to return home at once. As he waited for him, the thought suddenly presented itself that Swift might have taken the money. Surely he had been longer than was necessary in finding the flask of brandy. But he put the thought from him. The young man was his own cousin, come of honest people. He had always appeared trustworthy. Still — the temptation might have been too strong for him, knowing how suspicion would inevitably be directed toward Renny Whiteoak.
Mr. Clapperton fretted from place to place. He would not stop searching. When Swift appeared he faced him abruptly.
“whatever’s wrong?” demanded the young man.
“There has been a serious theft.” Eugene Clapperton fixed him with cold grey eyes.
“Theft?”
“Yes. A thousand dollars has been taken from the top of my desk.”
“Gosh! Are you sure?”
“I couldn’t be more so. It was lying there in new twenty-dollar bills when Colonel Whiteoak was with me. Didn’t you see it when you were searching for the brandy?”
“I’d swear it wasn’t there then.”
His expression was so open, so fearless, that Eugene Clapperton gave up all suspicion of him. He said solemnly, “Sidney, that man took the money. He crammed it in his pockets and hurried out through the french window.”
“If he did he’s crazy. He’d know he’d be the first one suspected.”
“why?”
“Well — who else?”
“what about you?”
“Do you suspect me?” He stared almost truculently at his cousin.
“Of course not. But he might think I should.”
“Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”
“Sure. But I’m willing to begin all over again. Let us have a systematic search.”
They searched every corner of the desk, every inch of the room. When they had finished, Swift said, “You’d better call in the police.”
“No. Not yet. I want to hear what he says about it.”
“Better not accuse him openly. I believe it’s a dangerous thing to do unless you have lots of evidence. He might bring a suit against you for defamation of character.”
“I won’t accuse him. Get him on the phone for me, please.”
Swift did so and Eugene Clapperton, in a hard voice, asked:
“Is that Colonel Whiteoak?”
“Yes,” ans
wered a voice, the very sound of which filled him with a tremulous fury.
“Well, Colonel Whiteoak, I’ve something disagreeable to report.”
“Oh? Are those prospective piggeries of mine already making a stink?”
“This is a serious matter, sir.”
“Out with it, then.”
Mr. Clapperton cleared his throat. “Colonel Whiteoak, there was a pile of new twenty-dollar bills on my desk, amounting to one thousand dollars, when you were with me. Do you remember?”
“I do.”
Mr. Clapperton’s voice became a little shrill. “Colonel Whiteoak, that thousand dollars has been taken from my desk. It’s been stolen.”
There was laughter in Renny’s voice as he answered: “Really? Well, that will scarcely excite you — such a small, insignificant sum.”
“It is not small or insignificant. This is a very serious matter, sir.”
“what are you going to do about it? Do you suspect anyone?”
“Only one person has been in that room outside of my secretary and myself.”
“who?”
“You, Colonel Whiteoak.”
There was silence at the other end of the telephone for a space. Then Renny asked quietly:
“Are you accusing me of taking that money?”
“No — no, but I thought I’d like to know what you had to say about it? I thought perhaps —”
At the other end the receiver was hung up. Eugene Clapperton waited, listened, slammed his own receiver on the hook. He twisted his fingers together. Swift could see that he was in a rage.
“what did he say, Eugene?” he asked.
“He laughed — as though a thousand dollars was nothing. He hung up. I’ll show him whether it’s nothing or not. He asked me if I accused him — then he hung up while I was still talking.”
“You’ll not get anything out of him.”
“Do you mean that, if he took the money, I won’t get it back?”
“I don’t believe you will unless you can prove it and arrest him.”
“what better proof do I need? I’ll get a detective on the job at once.” He unlocked the french window and threw it open. He drew a deep breath of the fresh air. He watched while Swift mechanically continued the search, looking again and again in the same places. He exclaimed irritably, “I wish I had my hands on that man! I’d knock his ugly red head against the wall.”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 418