by John Creasey
‘Mr Mannering, you’re an expert on diamonds, aren’t you?’
The girl drew a sharp breath, but Mannering did not look at her.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he said. ‘I’m fond of them, yes.’
‘I love them,’ breathed Lady Usk. ‘I wonder if I dare – yes, I will, I know you won’t mind. I had the most wonderful piece of luck, Mr Mannering. The Deverells, you know. They really had to sell something, and I was able to buy their diamonds. I expect you’ve heard of the Deverell necklace! I really don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so wonderful. It’s upstairs now, locked away of course. I don’t leave anything lying about. You don’t know who you can trust and who you can’t these days. Would you have a look at them for me, and give me your real opinion? If I go to a dealer I know he will tell me a lot of lies, you really can’t depend on what they say, can you?’
‘There are plenty of reputable ones,’ said Mannering. He disliked her manner, and he disliked still more the fact that she was boasting of having bought the Deverell necklace, for he knew that it had been an heirloom of the Deverell family for centuries. Tony Deverell would feel badly at the need for selling, but the Deverells had been hit badly by the war, and their finances had been at a low ebb for years.
‘Are there?’ said Lady Usk, her voice piercingly shrill. ‘I never seem to find them, I’m always being cheated. Would you look at them, Mr Mannering?’
‘Of course,’ said Mannering. ‘Whenever you like.’
‘That is nice of you.’ She beamed on him again. ‘Not just now, of course, I really must go and have my afternoon rest, so necessary these strenuous days. Shall we say just before dinner? That’s settled then. Now don’t walk too far, Cecilie.’
The girl said nothing. Mannering stepped across to the door and opened it for Lady Usk, who rested a hand on his arm as she went through and, halfway towards the stairs, turned and waved towards him. Mannering had stayed by the open door for a moment to give the girl an opportunity for going out of the room. But when he turned, she was sitting on the settee, regarding him steadily. Mannering approached her, smiling.
‘It is better outside than in, isn’t it?’
‘That’s doubtful,’ said Cecilie, slowly. ‘And please don’t think that because she practically forced you to ask me to go out that you need do it.’ She sounded bitter, and her lips curled a little; it spoiled the youthful charm of her features. ‘Please sit down, or go out, or—’ She stopped abruptly and looked out of the window. ‘Oh, isn’t she unbearable?’
Mannering offered the girl a cigarette, and saw that her hand was a little unsteady as she accepted one. He said nothing, and she went on more quietly: ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, of course. But it’s getting on my nerves. We saw you sitting alone in here from the other side of the grounds, and she made a bee-line for you while giving me a lecture on the need for settling down.’ Mannering shrugged.
‘It’s annoying but not unusual,’ he said. ‘Most women get to that stage sooner or later, but let’s clear the air. I am a firmly engaged man, and my fiancée will be here later in the day, so I’m a perfectly safe escort for an hour or two. Romance, in other words, is off. How does that sound?’
She laughed.
‘It sounds glorious! With my stepmother the talk never gets beyond money, diamonds, eligible men and war charities, or some ass like Tommy, who thinks—’ She stopped again, abruptly, and Mannering laughed.
‘Why not say it? Who thinks he’s in love with you.’
‘Do you know,’ said Cecilie Grey slowly, ‘I’m beginning to feel better already. Will you feel too bored if we go for a walk?’ She stood up quickly, and Mannering followed her through the rose terraces, to the meadow land which lay beyond Vere House. From the far side of the garden he could hear voices raised in laughter, and caught a glimpse of four white-clad figures on the tennis court.
Mannering did not know what made him look round at the house before going through the gate, but framed against a first-floor window he saw the head and shoulders of Lady Usk. Cecilie asked why he smiled.
‘Your mother’s delighted,’ said Mannering cheerfully. ‘We’ve given her something to think about, anyhow.’
‘And talk about,’ said Cecilie sharply. ‘Would you mind not calling her my mother? She’s not, you know.’
‘Let’s find something else to talk about,’ Mannering said. ‘I can see she’ll become an obsession if you let her.’
‘Ye-es,’ said Cecilie Grey. ‘The trouble is I can never get free from her. I feel she’s watching me now—’ She broke off. ‘But of course I shouldn’t worry you with my troubles.’
‘If you really want to unload them,’ said Mannering, ‘carry on. It might give you more strength to deal with Tommy later.’
Cecilie smiled against her inclination.
‘He doesn’t worry me, but – do you know, Mr Mannering, she really thinks that she’s tremendously popular. It’s quite incredible, but she doesn’t even realise that Tommy runs away whenever he sees her coming. And yet,’ went on Cecilie more slowly, ‘sometimes I feel sorry for her. She knows, at least, that her husband hates her.’
Mannering looked up sharply.
‘That’s strong language, isn’t it?’
‘I know, but it’s true. I shouldn’t say this to anyone else,’ she added naively, ‘but I know I can talk to you. She’s always putting a face on things, and yet sometimes I think she’s frightened.’
‘Frightened?’
‘It sounds absurd, I know, but I do think so.’ There was a refreshing naturalness about Cecilie Grey now that she had shaken off the immediate influence of her stepmother, and Mannering knew that she had needed an outlet for her bitterness. She walked easily, negotiating the rough meadowland without difficulty, and the farther she was from Vere House the more freely she talked. ‘She employs a man to watch her, you know. A private detective, who’s acting as her chauffeur here. Have you seen him?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mannering. ‘What agency, do you know?’
‘It’s called the Woolf Agency or Bureau, I’m not sure which. Logan looks like a prize-fighter.’ Cecilie laughed. ‘If he gives her confidence I suppose he serves some purpose, but I shouldn’t like to go far with him at night. I – well, I’m damned,’ said Cecilie. ‘He’s over there now, talking with another man.’
Mannering followed the direction of her gaze. The two men were partly hidden by a hawthorn hedge, but he could see the broad shoulders and thick bull-neck of a man whose back was turned towards them. The second fellow was smaller, and although he was two hundred yards away it was possible to see his thin, narrow features, and the way his lips moved as he talked.
‘That’s Logan,’ said Cecilie. ‘She would probably be furious if she knew he was out of the house. She says she hired him to make sure nothing happens to the Deverell necklace, but she was nervous before she bought them. Do you know she carries most of her jewels about with her? But let’s forget her,’ said Cecilie, as if Mannering had urged the topic of conversation. ‘May we talk about you?’
‘For what it’s worth, yes,’ said Mannering.
But although he talked, answering her questions freely, he was thinking of Lady Usk, and her flaunted jewellery.
Since he had arrived, two days before, there had been no further thefts. Diana Vere had gone as far as to say that his very coming had frightened the thief. The actual losses were even more trivial than Martin Vere had intimated: the total value of the trinkets and cash missing being less than twenty pounds.
Mannering felt that he had been asked to come less because of the thefts than because of the possibility of a robbery of greater proportion.
At his suggestion Diana had shown him the rooms with safes. Most of them – including Lady Usk’s – were of the combination type. Several were of ordinary key-type, however, and about the keyholes he had noticed slight scratches, suggesting that a pick-lock had been used in an attempt to open them.
&n
bsp; He had said nothing to Diana.
He had wondered whether she was afraid that Lady Usk’s jewels would be the next to go, for she was a woman much given to adornment, and was usually emblazoned with rings and brooches of considerable value. To Mannering it appeared that Diana was more alarmed than she made out; and he attributed much of her nervousness to the coming visit of her brother, whose European tour had aroused worldwide interest.
She gave him an impression of vague, indefinable anxiety, and Mannering himself had felt an under-current of suspense which he could not properly diagnose.
Cecilie’s mention of her stepmother’s private detective was his first intimation of the man’s presence, and later, in the quiet of his room, before he started to dress for dinner, Mannering found himself thinking of Cecilie’s assurance that Lady Usk was frightened.
That might be the explanation of her abruptness, of her ceaseless talk. If that were so, Cecilie had given him no hint as to the reason, probably because she had no idea of it.
Mannering pushed the thought of Lady Usk from his mind, bathed and dressed, and at half-past seven sent her a message to the effect that if she were free he would be delighted to see the Deverell necklace. Cecilie brought the reply.
‘She’s all ready for the show,’ said Cecilie, her eyes dancing. ‘Don’t be too hard on her, Mr Mannering. She’s as excited as a child about them, and she’s taken everything out of the safe and spread it on her dressing table for effect.’ Mannering smiled.
‘I won’t be hard, Cecilie, and my first name is John. You’re looking far more cheerful.’
‘Altogether your responsibility,’ said Cecilie laughing, ‘I almost wish your fiancée wasn’t coming!’
‘Now stop flattering me,’ said Mannering, ‘pleasant though it is to hear, and lead me to the show-place.’
They walked quickly along to Lady Usk’s room, and Mannering tapped on the door. A maid opened it. Lady Usk was standing by a dressing table which had been moved near a window through which the sun was shining, striking sparks from a superb collection of precious stones. The woman had her hand raised as if conscious of her showmanship. She was excited and pleased – and proud. There was no hint of fear in her manner and Mannering wondered whether Cecilie had given her imagination too free a rein.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ she breathed. ‘It’s only a part of my little collection, but to so famous a collector as you, all I have would seem trivial.’
‘I think,’ said Mannering slowly, ‘that I’m going to be envious before I go, Lady Usk.’ He stepped to the table, seeing that the Deverell necklace was in the centre, resting on its black velvet case. On either side were brooches, rings and smaller necklaces of sapphires and emeralds. Mannering picked up the diamond necklace.
‘Aren’t they delightful?’ demanded Lady Usk, and her voice grew shrill. ‘I’m the proudest woman in the world to have them, Mr Mannering. You do believe that, don’t you?’
‘I’m quite sure,’ said Mannering. ‘Do you mind if I take them closer to the window?’ He stepped past her without waiting, and she stayed by the table, watching him as he lifted the diamonds closer to his eyes. His expression did not alter, although, Cecilie thought that his lips tightened.
He stood there fully a minute, with the sun sending sparkles of multi-coloured light from the necklace, and when he turned he was smiling.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They’re superb, Lady Usk.’
He imagined that he saw an expression of relief cross her features as he spoke, and immediately she picked up an emerald bracelet and handed it to him. He replaced the necklace, and as he did so he wondered whether she had deliberately tried to trick him, or whether she was unaware that the necklace, reputedly so famous, was in fact made of paste.
Chapter Three
Guest of Honour
The gong resounded through the house before Mannering went back thoughtfully to his own room. He imagined Lady Usk to be too proud of her possession to show him paste gems, but he was quite sure that he had not seen the original Deverell necklace. The discovery puzzled and intrigued him, and put him in something of a quandary. If Lady Usk did know and wanted to deceive him, it was no business of his; but if she believed they were the real diamonds, should he disabuse her?
Cecilie might be able to help him.
On his right at dinner was Mabel Vere, his host’s sister, and on his left a middle-aged woman who paid full attention to her food and wine, and showed an obvious disinclination to talk. As Mabel’s chief interest appeared to be centred in a fresh-faced youngster named Menzies at her right hand, Mannering found ample time to study the party.
It was not distinguished.
There were eleven in all, including the Veres. Martin Vere was talking animatedly enough to a grey-haired, Eton-cropped woman whom Mannering did not know. At the other end of the table Diana Vere was coping with Armitage and the Rector, a distant relation of the Veres. Lady Usk was talking freely to Tommy on one side and an earnest-looking young man called Dryden, a dilettante convinced that he was a poetic genius, on the other.
Mannering knew that most of the party were keyed up in expectation of Morency’s visit, but he wondered whether that was the only explanation of the under-current of suspense which he still could not specify. At odd moments he would catch first one, then another of the guests staring at him, only to look away abruptly when they caught his eye.
Was it his imagination?
Could it be that his reputation had been built up to such an extent that they now regarded him as an oddity?
Mannering did not think so. He had the impression that most of them were nervous and on edge, despite the unceasing flow of conversation and the easy laughter. Twice he saw Diana looking at him, and he guessed from her expression that she was conscious of it too.
Diana had married Vere on her first visit to England, and had returned to the States only on occasional holiday trips. They were a happy couple, Mannering believed, although neither was inclined to demonstrativeness. Their lack of pomp explained the fact that although one of the most sought-after men in England was coming to stay with them they had invited others apparently haphazardly, treating such an event as an everyday occurrence.
Thinking this over, Mannering doubted whether it was wholly true.
It was unlikely that there was no political significance in Morency’s decision to stay for a weekend in England when it had been generally prophesied that he would fly back to America immediately his round of visits to the capitals of the belligerent countries was finished. Diana always contrived to make her house-parties appear to be chosen thoughtlessly: it was part of the charm of Vere House. But Diana was shrewd, and undoubtedly she had been careful in choosing her guests for Morency’s weekend.
Did that explain why most of them were nonentities?
If Diana had aimed to ensure that no one at Vere House was likely to attract outside attention it was easier to understand her anxiety about the petty thieving. To Mannering it seemed likely that she knew that her brother’s visit held a greater importance than either she or Vere had intimated, and that she felt it was essential that the mystery should be cleared up before he arrived.
Although it was denied that Morency was on an official visit to Europe, newspapers and – some said – governments believed that the reports he was to take back to the United States would have a considerable bearing on the European war. Thus his movements had been followed keenly. Mannering reflected that Morency might have to keep a firm control on himself if he was to prevent the lionising he had received in all countries from turning his head.
On the other hand if he was anything like Diana, that would not be difficult. Diana, thought Mannering, was one of the loveliest creatures of his acquaintance. He doubted whether anyone had ever known her lose her temper, raise her voice, or show any kind of ill-feeling. There was a charm about Diana Vere which won everyone: he could not remember hearing a word of gossip or scandal against her, which in itself was a r
arity.
The conversation at the table lagged.
Mannering wished that Lorna had been able to get to Vere House in time for dinner. He was afraid that she would find driving down from town in the black-out wearisome, and with the twenty-miles-an-hour limit it might be ten o’clock before she arrived.
The problem presented by the discovery that Lady Usk’s vaunted necklace was paste, was still in the forefront of his mind, pushing the original reason for his visit into the background. The more he pondered it the more he was convinced that before the night was out he must make some effort to find whether she knew of the substitution. He glanced across at her, seeing her still deep in conversation with young Dryden. She was saying that she had met Morency in New York and how delighted he would be to see her again.
‘And when—’ She turned from Dryden, and raised her voice ‘And when, is Mr Morency due, Mr Vere?’
‘Eh? Oh, I don’t know,’ said Vere vaguely. ‘Tomorrow, I expect. You never can tell when he’ll arrive you know. He always was an absent-minded beggar.’
Mannering lost her next words as Mabel Vere, deciding that it was time she paid him some attention, demanded to know when he thought the war would end.
She would have been plain but for her large blue eyes which held the attention and partially offset the rest of her features.
‘Of course you used to be in all the headlines,’ she went on, not waiting for an answer, ‘Why aren’t you now?’
Mannering laughed. ‘It must be because crime is on the downgrade.’
Mabel’s eyes turned towards Lady Usk. The necklace was well displayed, and her evening gown, cut low, showed it to advantage.
‘There aren’t so many jewels to steal, I suppose,’ she said, with a bland stare. ‘Most people keep them under lock and key. Or sell them,’ she added, and Mannering sensed the change in her manner. ‘I was awfully sorry to hear that the Deverells’ necklace was being sold, when I heard who’d bought it – ugh!’