“Come in, come in,” Boritz hurriedly urged the silent stranger. The tall, willowy man dressed in a long black raincoat nodded, then stooped as he sought to enter through the door before taking off his rain-drenched hat and making direct eye contact with Boritz. “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I felt that I had to come immediately,” said the croaky voice in barely a whisper as rainwater continued to drip from his forehead as well as from the end of his misshapen nose. Boritz nodded to suggest he understood and then moved to one side to allow the mysterious guest to dispense with his umbrella in the tall wrought iron stand.
“Dear sir, please do allow me the pleasure of taking your coat from you,” Boritz sycophantically fawned in his usual and very sickening attempt to curry great favor. The distinguished looking old man hesitated, a concerned look darkening his long, scarred face. “Thank you, but I think it will not be necessary, for I have no intention of staying too long. Therefore, I think it best that I leave my coat on, for that way I can disappear quickly if conditions necessitate that I must,” said the aged and mysterious silver-haired guest.
“Nonsense, my dear man. I won’t hear of it. Oh, no, no, no. There is no one here to even take note of your visit, albeit very cloak and dagger. So pray, stay as long as need be,” Uncle Boritz stated very matter-of-factly.
“Thank you, dear sir, and I apologize most profusely for turning up unannounced at such an hour as this, but I must stress that I would never have ventured out on such a night if I did not believe my errand to be of the utmost importance.”
Boritz remained silent as he beckoned his guest to follow him down the long, highly polished hallway. They momentarily stopped halfway down as Boritz fumbled through his thick bunch of keys, struggling to find the right key to open the iron gate. With the small gate finally unlocked, he ushered the gentleman through the opening before quickly relocking it from the other side.
As they walked the remaining distance to Boritz’s private sitting room, not a word passed between them. Finally they entered the sitting room, his private sanctuary, and then with the door firmly closed behind them, they took it in turns to breathe a sigh of relief, for they believed themselves to be finally safe—yes, safe from all snooping children with elephant-sized flapping ears and equally long, talkative tongues, which might bring great harm if they were to listen in and then pass on any of their uncle’s personal and very private conversations.
“Please do feel free to take a seat, Professor Fossilize,” Boritz said with the utmost charm as he beckoned the tall and elegantly dressed silver-haired gentleman toward a thick plush armchair.
“Mmm…forgive me, but before we get down to the reasons for this urgent visit, I feel the need to clarify something,” the professor quickly said, his voice suddenly sounding a bit annoyed, if not a teeny bit strained. “It’s Fossil, not Fossilize,” he protested as he tried and desperately failed in his effort to take no offense.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Professor Fossil,” an extremely repentant Boritz replied, feeling slightly humiliated that he should inexcusably get the poor chap’s name wrong, and, if I might add, on their second acquaintance.
“Apology accepted,” said the professor as he sunk back into the chair and began to visibly relax.
Boritz, feeling mightily relieved, then walked a few paces and sat down on a large and very plush velvet sofa. Pitstop waited until his master was comfortably seated before crouching down at his side, his ears pricked, his long, razor-sharp tongue hanging out as he too waited with insatiable expectation to hear the reason behind this sudden and very unexpected late-night visitation.
Boritz moved forward in his seat and was about to break the awkward silence, but due to his bad nerves and an unexpected bout of uncontrollable gas, he was forced to feign a bad coughing fit to hide his embarrassment, and so he failed to notice that once again he further insulted his guest.
“Professor Fossilize, sadly, I am unable to offer you any form of refreshment, for even as we speak, there is a little ongoing crisis still panning out in the kitchen that unfortunately will not be alleviated until I return to assist my dear wife, Mildred. However, all is not entirely lost, for I do have some rather special vintage port, as well as some excellent reserve Napoleon brandy in my private cupboard if you would care for a drop.”
Professor Fossil paused while he considered his colleague’s thoughtful and kind offer.
“Thank you, but I feel I must decline your generous offer concerning any form of strong refreshment, but, dear sir, may I also remind you one final time that my surname is not Fossilize, but Professor Fossil,” he abruptly stated. “And, my dear fellow, as I am one of the most respected archeological historians this country has to offer, it might pay you, sir, to remember this and so accord me both my correct name and title. Or pray, tell me now, am I asking too much?”
Poor Boritz couldn’t show it, but he was now feeling utterly mortified, for how could he make the same mistake not once but twice—and all in the space of a few mere seconds? He needed Mildred by his side, and fast. Without her he was in danger of revealing himself to be little more than a bumbling idiot who had no idea which way to turn. Not that she knew this, of course. Oh no, she could never be allowed such a position of power, or she might use it to her advantage. Such deceit would be considered by him to be unacceptable if not utterly irreprehensible.
“Oh, that would never, never do,” he muttered, shaking his head from side to side as though he were trying to release himself from the middle of some unbelievably frightful nightmare. “My darling Mildred running the show? Never in a month of Sundays!” he muttered under his breath as once again he tried hard to give the professor his full and most deserved attention
“Anyway, Mr. Skunkbelly, as my time is considered by most to be, well—what shall I say?—considerably expensive and therefore well out of the range of most mere mortals, it would, I believe, be most advisable if we got down to the brass tacks of why I have chosen such an earthly hour to pay you this clandestine visit.”
Poor Boritz was now feeling utterly distraught by the professor’s presumably unwitting error, but he felt far too demoralized to make any mention of it. “Skunkbelly! Fancy calling me Skunkbelly. That is much, much worse than Fossilize,” he quietly murmured as he forced a weak smile, at the same time giving serious thought as to just how severe the damage to his personal coffers might become, as the professor had just reminded him he was no little cheapskate he could keep happy with a few pounds. Just thinking of the potential sums of money that might possibly be extracted from his bank account to pay the good professor’s bill now made it almost impossible for him to even begin to relax.
“Right, now where were we?” the learned professor mumbled as he placed his expensive looking leather-bound briefcase on his lap and released the brass clasp. Then after a few moments spent fumbling around, he finally produced the item he was searching for. Opening up the slim yellow package, he then turned it upside down to give it a good shake, his objective being to reveal the contents of the mysterious package. In just a matter of seconds an ornate gold ring fell directly into the palm of his free hand. “I am here to return this ring to you in person. But before I do, I need to ask how perchance you came upon such a ring as this? Yes, where on earth did you find it?”
“Well, professor, I am not really too sure. You see, one of the children, Gailey Gobbstopper, to be precise, witnessed another of my unfortunate children remove the ring from her finger and place it for safekeeping by the soap while she peeled some potatoes. Of course, Gailey was quick to realize that it was valuable; she therefore waited for the perfect opportunity to present itself so that she could grab the ring and bring it straight to me. And that, in a nutshell, is how the ring came to be in my possession. We have come to believe that the child in question stumbled across it in a field close to some nearby fortress ruins. At least that’s the story so far.”
“Well, I have to say that despite my many years of expertise in this field, I have n
ever to date come across such a beautifully exquisite ring—that unfortunately I have not been able to put a historical date to. This fact alone is troubling me greatly, nor, for that matter, can I even begin to tell you from what country it originated. All I can say is that I believe this ring to be of extraordinary value; yes, it is probably worth a small king’s ransom.”
Boritz’s whole face suddenly lit up like candles on a birthday cake as enormous monetary signs popped up like an old-fashioned cash register in front of his bulbous eyes. His heart then began to hammer loudly, as this latest piece of magnificently good news caused his heart valves not only to expand but to pump harder, as they too found the urgent need to express their joy and liberation at this exceedingly marvelous and very unexpected development.
“Yes, the royal coat of arms in particular has such extraordinary detail, and as I placed it under my specialist microscope before subjecting it to a battery of tests I discovered…”
As the professor continued to assault poor Boritz’s mind with detail after detail, all of which was far too technical for him to truly understand or cope with, the professor had little idea that his host had switched off completely.
“What I would suggest at this point is that you step up your investigative techniques and try your utmost to find out precisely where she found it, as this would help matters considerably. I, for one, have exhausted every reference book I could lay my hands on. I have also been in dialogue with a number of very well-respected fellow historians, as I sought their professional opinion and expertise on the matter in hand. To date, none of them have been able to be of any real assistance.”
“Dear chap, I pray you did not reveal the source from which this ring came into your possession?” Boritz hoarsely enquired, an icy shudder suddenly going the full length of his spine as he found himself feeling most protective in his concern for the ongoing safety of his precious ring.
“Oh no, no, no. You have my utmost assurance that both the ring and your connection to it remain our secret alone, and I have gone to great pains to ensure that this will remain so. Yes, I would urge you to trust me implicitly, Mr. Shuffleberry, for at the end of the day you are paying me very handsomely not only for my expertise in this field but also for my professional discretion.”
Uncle Boritz grimaced as he silently suffered yet a further aberration regarding his beloved family name.
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Boritz mumbled as he took his handkerchief and began to wipe the sweat from his brow, great anxiety welling up within as he once again pondered the disturbing thought of just how much the professor’s loyalty and silence might end up costing him.
“Well, I must say that as a last resort I took it upon myself to contact the British History Museum in the hope of getting some further form of enlightenment on this delicate matter. They cooperated fully by doing a most extensive search of the archives, but sadly they were still unable to come up with any historical document hidden away in the vaults that could shed further light as to the origin and therefore the authenticity of this ring. And so it is with great sadness of heart that I am unable to help you further in my professional capacity as a historian, that is, unless I am given much more information and considerable funds with which to work.”
“Yes, yes, I fully understand,” Boritz muttered as he struggled to come ’round from his dreamy, almost catatonic daze.
“So might I suggest that one way of following up on the ring would be to write or pay a visit to each and every castle in England, Scotland, and of course, let us not forget Ireland, as one of these remote castles might well hold the key to this mysterious ring. Of course, if you have no luck with any of these, then you might care to broaden your search to cover Europe as well.”
“Oh, dear. To go so far afield would surely cost a king’s ransom. I mean, this would involve trekking around much of the continent. No, no. This is all quite unthinkable, for amongst other things, where would I find the time to do all this?” Boritz exclaimed, shaking his head, for he was now feeling in a most beleaguered state.
“Mr. Skunkbe—”
“Scumberry! The correct name is Scumberry,” Boritz quickly interjected, lest the good professor suffer another extraordinary bout of memory loss that resulted in his good name once more being rather disdainfully expressed incorrectly.
“Yes, well then, Mr. Scumberry, as I was saying, I am fully prepared to continue investigating further on your behalf, but you must realize that to do so would add considerably to my bill. I therefore leave it entirely in your fair hands as to where, if anywhere, we go from here.”
“Yes, yes,” was all Boritz could find to mutter as he rather glumly tried hard to consider his very limited options.
“So, Mr. Scum…um…yes, berry, the hour is indeed late, and so I must bid you farewell, for I must quickly head off back to London, as my colleagues are anxiously awaiting my arrival at Paddington. I’m not entirely sure whether I should allow you to be privy to this, but my colleagues have just unearthed a new and therefore very exciting Roman burial site, along with a number of priceless artifacts that require dating. As I have no wish to keep them waiting any longer than necessary, I must excuse myself and then rush to catch a train.”
Professor Fossil got up from the chair, but sadly, poor Boritz felt glued to his seat, his forehead sweating profusely.
“I say, old chum, are you feeling all right? Do you need a physician? You look rather ashen,” the now disturbed professor asked out of genuine concern as he continued to peer down at Boritz over his spectacles. Boritz still failed to move a muscle, leaving the dear professor still rather stupidly holding his hand out with the full expectation that as a matter of courtesy it would in due season be shaken.
“Uhh,” moaned Boritz. The concerned professor gave up and removed his outstretched hand, which he then positioned inside his jacket, reaching into an inner pocket. He brought out a crisp white envelope he had placed there earlier for safekeeping. “If all is, indeed, well with you, and you therefore do not require the assistance of a doctor, may I leave you my bill for services rendered? Before you ask, I have documented every test that was done on the ring, as well as all my trips on your behalf, phone calls, time spent at the British History Museum, etc. Yes, every service has been individually itemized and then recorded on the account, just as you as requested,” he said as he placed the cool, crisp white envelope in Boritz’s open but seriously trembling right hand.
The request for money brought Boritz right back into the land of the living, as without warning he jumped to his feet as though he had just been shocked back to life with the help of an electric eel. Still feeling as shaky as wobbly jelly fresh out of the mold, Boritz limply took hold of the professor’s hand to finally do the gentlemanly thing and shake it. “Professor Fossil, if this ring is, as you say, worth a fortune, can I have your word that this discovery will remain a secret between the two of us?” he croaked as he struggled to find the correct words of persuasion.
“Of course, Mr. Scuttlebug. Confidentiality is, after all, my middle name, and so it goes without saying that you have my word, which is my bond. However, I would be failing in my duty if I did not suitably warn you that should this ring turn out to be of great national importance to the history of our beloved country, then you, sir, are under some form of obligation from the authorities to report your priceless find.”
“Oh, but if I were to do such a thing, not only would I lose the ring forever, but I know they will only offer me some small paltry amount of money, yes, a mere pittance in exchange for my parting with this priceless and most beautiful ring.”
“This may be true, but you have to understand the importance of holding on to all archeological finds that must then be recorded and preserved, for they do, I believe, bear much witness and testimony to our distinctly noble heritage. So surely, dear sir, this matters far more than any financial recompense or personal gain.”
“Financial what?” sniffed Boritz, as he refused to tak
e heed to the gentle words of warning that came from the learned man.
“Money, Mr. Scullberry. Yes, I would sincerely like to think that for a gentleman of your caliber and social standing to have your name written down in history as the person who discovered this precious ring would, in itself, be reward enough.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” Boritz unconvincingly spluttered as he promptly placed a hand on the professor’s arm before anxiously hurrying the ancient-looking historian toward the door of the drawing room. Pitstop, who had been taking a well-earned nap, leapt to his feet to dutifully follow after his master. As the three of them frantically rushed down the long corridor making their way toward the front door, a now very frazzled Boritz appeared to almost be pushing the poor learned gentleman along in his desperate bid to see him leave. The reason for this extraordinarily rude behavior was simply that he had no desire to hear another word from the professor that might even attempt to strike at his already seared conscience and thus find him handing over the priceless ring for the good of our great British heritage!
As they reached the front door, Boritz, as a gesture of good measure, placed a hand on the learned professor’s arm and gave it a friendly pat. “Professor Fossil, I will have my secretary put your check in the post forthwith! And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your kind assistance,” he said in his usual obsequious tones, as he still wished to appear both courteous and amicable toward the professor.
The Trouble with Polly Brown Page 20