Call for the Baron

by John Creasey

  ‘That’s sheer prejudice,’ said Mannering.

  ‘Perhaps it is, but there’s something about her that riles me. She – what really does beat me,’ added Mabel, dropping her voice to make sure that only Mannering could possibly hear, ‘is the display. She’s the only one here wearing more than a ring or a small brooch.’

  ‘I’d noticed that,’ said Mannering drily. ‘But after all, most of you don’t wear jewels at all, but prefer to keep them in a vault.’

  ‘Oooch! That sounded like a touch of bitterness, John. You haven’t been your real self since you came down, you know. I thought it was because you were missing Lorna, but now I see it’s something more than that.’

  Mannering raised his brows.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘To be honest I’m tired of doing nothing.’

  ‘That’s the detective in you,’ said Mabel, ‘always on the hunt. Did you know that Tommy Armitage is going round calling you a criminologist?’

  Mannering smiled. ‘He also told me that I wasn’t looking at my best. I’ll have to put up a better showing. Does Lady Usk always keep her necklace safely locked away, do you know?’

  ‘Very safely,’ said Mabel, and again her smile disappeared as she looked across at the peeress. ‘Diana told me that she virtually invited herself down and then insisted on having a room with a modern safe. Had I been Diana I would have turned her out on sight. She’s positively asking for trouble.’

  ‘What on earth makes you say that?’

  ‘Oh – I don’t know.’ Mabel flushed slightly, ‘I’m on edge, although I can’t think why. Did you know that Lady Usk keeps a private detective?’

  ‘I did – but I’m surprised it’s general knowledge.’ Mannering was thinking less of what he said than of Mabel’s confirmation of the uneasiness: he and Diana were not alone.

  Mabel sniffed. ‘There’ll be nearly as many detectives as guests when Vic comes. Scotland Yard insisted on adding two to his entourage – what a word for Vicky! – and then he brought two with him from Washington. And I think he’s got four secretaries, and a valet, and – but never mind that. Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘I can try,’ said Mannering.

  ‘Well, he’s due soon after dinner,’ said Mabel, and she leaned back as if preparing to enjoy the sensation. Mannering’s expression remained unchanged, and she grimaced. ‘I wish you weren’t so self-possessed. One day someone will catch you off your guard, and you just won’t know what to do. Are you playing bridge tonight?’

  He grinned. ‘I’m not anxious, but if there’s need for me I’ll stand in.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll want you,’ Mabel said. ‘Di and Martin won’t be playing, and bridge is the one thing where Cecilie’s really had her own way: she doesn’t like it and won’t play. So that leaves enough for two tables. I feel sorry for Cecilie, at times, poor kid.’

  ‘Do you?’ said Mannering perfunctorily.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mabel mischievously, ‘and there’s no need to pretend you’re not interested. You took her for a lovely walk this afternoon, and Cecilie was quite a different girl when she returned.’ Mabel mimicked Lady Usk’s voice, but on a lower key. ‘I expect she’s poured out all her troubles to you, John, that’s the worst or best of having a reputation for being a—’

  ‘Criminologist,’ said Mannering.

  ‘Thank you, sir. People, especially the young and innocent, always think you can put the world right for them,’ Mabel went on breezily. ‘I remember I told you many tales of woe when I first saw you, but I’ve learned better now. She’s a pet, though, and she’s kept on a dreadfully tight leash. I think I’d rather be a poodle. Do you know she hasn’t a penny in her own right? Her father left it all to his wife. She’s got something, you know. Lady U, I mean,’ Mabel finished haphazardly.

  ‘She has a lot of things,’ said Mannering drily.

  He was not sorry when Diana motioned to Martin, and shepherded the women out of the room. The door closed, and masculine conversation rose with cigar smoke. Vere seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts, and Armitage, Dryden and the affable Rector did most of the talking. Armitage, Mannering knew, was unfit for military service, but Dryden was on leave. The Rector talked of enlisting if the war looked like going on much longer.

  No one mentioned Victor Morency.

  It was an hour later when two cars drew up outside the main doors of Vere House.

  Mannering would have seen nothing of them but for the fact that he had noticed Cecilie slipping out to the garden, and had followed her, hoping for an opportunity for discussing the Deverell necklace. The dimmed headlights of the cars showed her hurrying across the drive. Mannering frowned. That she should have left the over-heated drawing room for the garden was understandable, but there was no apparent reason for her to be hurrying as if to an appointment, in the darkness and without a torch.

  Mannering recalled that each night since he had been at Vere House, Cecilie had been missing after dinner, and had not returned until half-past ten thereabouts. Her steadfast refusal to play bridge had amused him: now he wondered whether a regular rendezvous in the grounds explained her avoidance of the card-room.

  He forgot Cecilie then.

  The light from the hall when the door was opened was very dim, but there was a familiar look about the easy-moving man who stepped from the first car and went into the house. Two other men followed him, and then the cars were driven towards the garage at the back.

  Mannering could hardly form an impression of a man in a quick glance, nevertheless he decided that he was going to like Morency. The journey, of course, had been made secretly: and the visit might be over before it was general knowledge that the American had been at Vere House for the weekend.

  Mannering turned back towards the French windows. He had a hand on the latch when he heard a cry from the other side of the drive. It was short and sharp, and it came from the direction Cecilie had taken.

  Silence, and a hushed darkness, was about him. The wind of the afternoon had died down, and there was only the faintest breeze rustling through the trees. A faint glow of light came from the surrounds of the French windows but apart from that the black-out at Vere House was without fault. It was impossible to see more than the vague outline of trees and hedges, and only that with difficulty.

  Mannering had gone out without a torch, and wished that he had been less forgetful. He waited, strained and tense, but hearing nothing more decided that the cry had meant nothing. But before he turned to the window again he heard the scurrying of footsteps over the gravel.

  He called quickly: ‘Is that you, Cecilie?’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Her voice came sharply out of the darkness, and she sounded agitated. Now she was nearer he could hear her quick breathing.

  ‘It’s John Mannering.’

  ‘Oh. Where are you?’

  ‘Just by the French windows,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you a torch?’

  ‘No,’ said Cecilie. ‘I forgot it. I only meant to come out for a few seconds. I needed a breath of air, it was so hot inside.’ She was so insistent that he doubted the truth of her assurance, and wondered amusedly whether Lady Usk had any idea of these night excursions.

  He said quietly: ‘Are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out just now.’

  ‘I—I stumbled,’ said Cecilie quickly. ‘Shall we go in?’ Mannering opened the windows, and she stepped through quickly. She was breathing hard, and her face seemed pale: she had lost the cheerfulness which she had shown before dinner, and clearly she was anxious to get away.

  He felt, with sharp concern, that she was nervous, even afraid.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said. ‘I’ll be down.’

  There was a door leading to a rear passage close by, and Cecilie used it, apparently preferring not to cross the drawing room, at the other end of which were the Veres and Victor Morency. It was a long room, and the trio did not notice the couple at the far end. Morency was speaking in a pleasant, low-pitched voice.


  ‘I’m tired of dinner parties, Di, and I meant to miss one tonight if I could. How many people have you got here?’

  ‘Not many,’ said Diana. ‘They’re all right, Vicky.’

  ‘Do I know them?’ Morency sounded tired.

  Diana began to name her guests, while Martin Vere stood with his back to the empty fireplace, staring at the ceiling, Mannering had no desire to break into a family talk, and followed Cecilie. She was out of sight when he reached the front hall, but the card-room door opposite Mannering was open. Tommy Armitage poked his head through, red-faced and scowling.

  ‘Oi, John. Have you seen her?’

  ‘Who?’ asked Mannering reasonably.

  ‘Who else do you call “her”?’ growled Tommy. ‘She can’t even sit for an hour in the middle of a rubber! And talk—does she talk! Lady Usk, of course.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her lately,’ said Mannering, ‘and I’m not going to sit in for her, my son. If I see her I’ll hint that you’re anxious to meet her.’

  ‘Curse you,’ said Armitage bitterly.

  Mannering smiled and turned to the stairs, but his expression altered quickly. For the second time that night he heard a sharp, abrupt cry, and this time there was no doubt that it came from a woman. Tommy, still by the door, started. Mannering was halfway up the stairs before he heard the cry again.

  ‘Oh-oh!’

  ‘It’s her,’ snapped Tommy Armitage, just behind Mannering. ‘Does she have fits or something?’

  Mannering hurried up the stairs. To him there had been something in that cry which made facetiousness out of place. It had seemed to mingle pain with fear, and they were not pleasant companions. That it had been Lady Usk’s voice there was no doubt, and he turned towards her room.

  The door was ajar.

  He pushed it open, then paused for a moment. She was on her back with her arms flung over her face, as if to protect her from something she was afraid to see. Through the door of the small room leading off the bedroom Mannering could see the safe.

  The door gaped open.

  Chapter Four

  Lady Usk is Silent

  It passed through Mannering’s mind that when his chief concern should be for the woman on the floor he had spared her hardly a thought. But as Armitage came in quickly he was able to say: ‘Look after her, Tommy. I won’t be a moment.’

  Armitage obeyed, while Mannering reached the safe, and peered into it. He could see nothing, but to satisfy himself he groped inside with his hand, being careful to avoid touching the sides of the shelves. There was nothing there, and as he turned away and looked about the room he was thinking of the paste necklace, wondering again whether Lady Usk had known the truth about it.

  Armitage had lifted her on to the bed. A glance was enough to show Mannering that she was breathing.

  Armitage’s plump fingers were at her pulse.

  ‘She’s all right,’ he said. ‘She fainted, I suppose. I say, Mannering, this is some game! Morency gets here, and ten minutes or so afterwards we get a burglary. It – Great Scott! It’s right up your street, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’ said Mannering. He felt no interest in Tommy Armitage, and little in Lady Usk. He was aware suddenly of his own position, of the fact that if certain officials at Scotland Yard learned that he had been on the scene of a jewel robbery of some importance they would think immediately of the Baron. He looked at Armitage yet hardly saw the man.

  ‘If you’re sure she’s all right I’ll go down and see Vere,’ he said. ‘Will you stay here, and keep the door shut until you hear Vere or me outside? We don’t want anyone to know about it yet. The less talk the better, especially with Morency here.’

  ‘Count me right in,’ said Armitage, ‘but break it gently to Martin, won’t you? It might be rather a jar.’

  Mannering smiled: the thought of Tommy Armitage emphasising the need for tact had its humour. But outside the door Mannering stood for a moment without moving. It was warm, but not warm enough to explain the beads of moisture on his forehead. He went towards the stairs, walking slowly, his face expressionless.

  For the time being the robbery would have to be kept silent: neither the Veres nor Morency would want a scandal.

  Was their need for secrecy any greater than his?

  As he went towards the drawing room he wondered what the Veres would say or do if they knew they had invited the Baron to investigate the thefts. And he had no alibi.

  As he opened the door of the drawing room it went through his mind that the one way of making sure he was in no way involved was to find who had taken the jewels. The minor complications, particularly the fact that the Deverell ‘stones’ had been no more than paste, were pushed aside.

  Diana Vere was facing him and her brother was sitting back in an easy chair. The first glimpse of a finely chiselled, rather ascetic face was to Mannering pleasing, although he thought Morency looked tired. Martin Vere looked round in surprise.

  ‘Hallo, hallo, John! Come in, and meet our lion, though he’s more like a tired lamb at the moment, eh Vic?’

  Morency smiled. He was not handsome, but his face had a composure that increased the impression of ascetism.

  ‘Don’t get up,’ Mannering said as Morency started to rise. ‘And don’t look at me as if I ought to know better, Di!’ He raised one eyebrow towards Diana, petite, cool and lovely in her black dinner-gown,

  Diana frowned, belying the expression in her eyes.

  ‘Did I look like that? I tried hard to hide it.’

  ‘Now, come!’ Martin Vere protested. ‘Vic, this is John Mannering – John, Vic prefers to be known as Di’s brother for the time being, for obvious reasons.’

  ‘Don’t take too much notice of Martin,’ said Morency, smiling.

  ‘I know him too well for that,’ said Mannering. ‘And I butted in because I had to.’ He rubbed the back of his head, and then laughed. ‘Mabel was telling me at dinner that I’d find myself wordless one of these days, and I’m dangerously close to it now. You’re the diplomat of the party, Morency – how would you break the news that there’s been a burglary – or perhaps a robbery?’

  Morency sat more upright in his chair. Diana’s smile disappeared. Vere smoothed his red hair with a hand that was not quite steady.

  ‘What’s the difference between a robbery and a burglary?’ asked Diana sharply.

  Mannering said seriously: ‘A burglary means a forced entry, Di. I can’t burgle a room I’m known to be in, but I can commit a robbery in it.’

  Diana said: ‘John, what do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know any more about it than that Lady Usk’s safe is wide open and empty, and that she fainted, presumably when she saw it. Tommy is up with her now.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Vere. ‘He means it.’

  Mannering had an impression that Vere and his wife were not wholly surprised, that they had been expecting something of the kind. Morency was expressionless. Diana stood up slowly.

  ‘So it has happened,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean, Di?’ The question came from Morency, but his sister continued to look at Mannering.

  ‘I’d hoped your coming would prevent it, John. We—we should have told you before, of course. One or two attempts have been made to open safes. We’ve seen the marks on the doors. But from the time you arrived nothing happened, and I’d hoped nothing would.’ She looked defeated, and a little forlorn, and Mannering could not find it in his heart to be annoyed. He said quietly: ‘It would have made no difference if you had told me. The marks were there for all to see.’ He glanced at Morency before he went on – ‘is that all?’

  ‘Nearly all,’ Diana said. ‘We can’t hold anything back now, Martin, so don’t interrupt. John, we’re quite sure of the servants, and that leaves the guests. I’ve told Vic all about it,’ she added, ‘and explained why I asked you down.’

  ‘I see,’ said Mannering slowly. ‘And only Lady Usk, Cecilie, Armitage, and Dryden, have been down since the trouble
started? That’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hilda Markham’s been here most of the time,’ said Vere. ‘Mabel comes in and out, you know – but of course it’s not Mabel. Damn it, it can’t be any of them!’ he added sharply.

  ‘It could be any of them,’ Mannering said, ‘and it could be someone from outside who’s forced an entry.’ He thought of Logan and the little, thin-faced man, but said nothing of them.

  ‘I’d better go upstairs,’ Diana said. ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘Not yet. I told Tommy to keep the door closed.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Vere. ‘I—to tell you the truth, John, I’m thinking more of Vic being here than the robbery. That’s as far as I’ve got yet. Can’t work up much sympathy for the Usk woman, but I suppose that will come. How much did she have with her, do you know?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mannering. ‘She had more than enough. I was thinking of Morency more than the other business, too,’ he added, not altogether truthfully. ‘I’m not sure how secret this visit is.’

  ‘As secret as I can make it,’ said Morency. He stood up, shrugging his shoulders. ‘But if there’s a burglary I guess there’s nothing to be done about it. The police will be discreet, won’t they?’

  ‘You needn’t worry about them,’ Mannering said. ‘It’s a question of preventing servants from talking more than worrying about the police. Martin, Lady Usk isn’t likely to be satisfied with any attempt to cover it up, even if you wanted to. I’m going to advise you to get in touch with the police at once.’

  Vere pushed both hands through his shock of red hair.

  ‘Damn it, there isn’t that hurry, is there?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Mannering.

  ‘But,’ protested Diana, ‘you’ve helped the police in the past, John. An hour or two won’t make any difference, and you might be able to discover something quite soon.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mannering slowly. ‘That’s true up to a point, but if I don’t discover anything the police won’t like to hear about a delay.’

  He wished that he could have urged them otherwise, but it was impossible. For his own sake he had to recommend the police: if they decided against it the onus was not on him.