The Attenbury Emeralds

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The Attenbury Emeralds Page 6

by Jill Paton Walsh


  ‘Having got that far I went to look for Charles. Sergeant Parker, as I then knew him. I gathered he was off-duty.

  ‘I found Charles in a tiny room assigned to a lowly sergeant in the hierarchy of a grand household, up in the attics. He was sitting in an armchair, reading Origen. I admit, Harriet, I was surprised. The Church Fathers didn’t strike me as the expected reading material for young policemen. I was even more surprised when he looked up as I entered his room – he had called “Come in!” to my knock – and put the book down on the bed. It didn’t have the Attenbury library binding. It was his own copy. He moved to sit on the bed, and gestured me to sit in the chair.

  ‘“What can I do for you, Lord Peter?” he said.

  ‘“Purification by fire,” said I, nodding at his book. “Makes the difference between heaven and hell almost notional, seems to me.”

  ‘Charles said cautiously, “I would not have expected an English lord to be interested in theology.”

  ‘“The English lord in question would not have expected a policeman to be reading the Fathers. But it’s jolly encouraging, Sergeant Parker, because what I’ve come to talk to you about is a moral dilemma. Can I put it to you?”

  ‘“I’m off duty for a couple of hours while Inspector Sugg chews the cud,” said Charles. “So you may put something to me, if you like. But even an off-duty policeman is a policeman, remember, my lord.”

  ‘“The thing is, I can guess where that emerald is. I think it could be returned to its rightful place, on the quiet. And that would be my duty to my old friend Lord Attenbury. We could just ‘find’ the thing, and send Sugg and co packing, and have a quiet word with somebody, and that would be that.”

  ‘But, Peter!’ said Harriet indignantly, ‘the real king-stone was gone and you didn’t know where it was!’

  ‘I was guessing, I admit. Put it down to irresponsible youth. But also remember that nobody in the family actually liked the king-stone…no, that’s a red herring. Anyway, Charles thought about it.

  ‘“In your position, that is probably what I would do, Lord Peter,” he said. “But if you were easy in your mind about it, and certain that that is what you want to do, you would not be talking to me about it. And since you are talking to me, I must tell you that I think such a course of action would be deeply immoral.”

  ‘“Deeply immoral? That’s going it a bit, isn’t it?”

  ‘“Let me put this to you. If you recover the jewels without incriminating the thief, do you think the person in question might do it again? If they could continue to be the trusted guest or servant of wealthy people, whose trinkets are worth several years’ wages for ordinary people? Another thing: if you recover the loot by stealth in this way where does that leave the current suspect? Could the girl ever clear her name?”

  ‘“Lady Attenbury trusts her,” I said.

  ‘“And what of her standing among the below-stairs people of whom she is one? Will everyone here trust her, once she has been accused?”

  ‘That left me thinking. I said, “If I went to Lord Attenbury and asked him if he wanted his property back with no scandal and no fuss, or if he wanted the thief caught and exposed, I know what he would say.”

  ‘“I imagine you do,” said Charles icily.

  ‘“Oh, come, Sergeant, give a fellow a break,” I said. “You must see I’m in a quandary.”

  ‘“But, my lord, you put me in a quandary too,” Parker said. “Now that I know that you know something relevant to our enquiries, I ought to interview you, to subpoena you if necessary, to make sure that you divulge what you know to Inspector Sugg.”

  ‘“The devil you ought!” I said. “But you see I have acquired a strong dislike of Inspector Sugg.”

  ‘Charles said, “I do not see how you could have reasonable grounds for that opinion, my lord.”

  ‘“He bullies his witnesses,” I said.

  ‘Charles said quietly, “How could you know that?”

  ‘Now I’d put a cat among the pigeons. Charles and I just sat staring at each other. I contemplated simply lying to him, simply telling him that the servants had been talking afterwards about their ordeal in the Suggery, and that my trusted manservant had conveyed to me…I don’t know what Charles was thinking.’

  ‘Well, you had put him in a difficulty, Peter. His duty was to Sugg. And he didn’t know you from Adam. Why should he risk his career by trusting you?’

  ‘Why indeed? But after we had been eye-balling each other for some time, that is what he decided to do, all the same.

  ‘“Eavesdropping, Lord Peter?” he said at last.

  ‘I was quiet – just thinking about what to say.

  ‘“I can easily find your spy-hole, my lord,” he said.

  ‘I said, “It’s dashed uncomfortable balanced on a pile of sheets. I wouldn’t need to do it if I could see the witness statements.”

  ‘“That would be against every possible police procedural rule,” he said.

  ‘“But might have advantages,” said I.

  ‘“What would those be, my lord?” he asked.

  ‘“Well, I’m an insider in the world you are investigating. I know how these chaps and their ladies live; I know how they think. I might be able to help.”

  ‘“So you might. But who would you be helping? You might dish the police enquiry to protect your friends. You have just told me you are tempted to do that.”

  ‘“And you just convinced me that that would be an immoral thing to do.”

  ‘Stalemate. I knew just how two dogs feel when they are walking round each other in the park.

  ‘“I don’t think I’ll feel very pally about whoever pinched the thing,” I said. “Let’s flush him out together, or her, of course, and I’ll gladly expose the wretch to the law and the press.”’

  ‘I imagine Charles was just as worried that if he helped you detect, you might shop him,’ said Harriet.

  ‘I’ll bet he was,’ said Peter. ‘But I said, “Look here, Sergeant Parker, I’m really bothered that your superior officer may be going to pin the thing on the wrong person.”

  ‘He didn’t actually say, “So am I,” but his face said it as clearly as a subtitle in a French film.

  ‘So then I gave a dog a bone. I said, “Look, I happen to know that those jewels weren’t where everyone thinks they were at the time Inspector Sugg is asking about. Sugg put one of your colleagues watching Lady Charlotte’s room, but someone – I’d rather not say who at the moment – fetched them out of there for a crucial forty minutes in the hour before dinner. Sugg is staking out the wrong territory.”

  ‘“Are you telling me that Constable Johnson fell asleep? How could the emerald be taken somewhere else without his seeing and reporting it?”

  ‘No, no, I’ve got nothing against Constable Johnson. He has an excuse. But the crucial thing is that during most of the hour before dinner the place we should be thinking about isn’t the main corridor, but the one above; the western end. So all the witnesses have been asked about their proximity to the wrong place. Or if you like, the wrong time. There were only a few minutes between the return of the emeralds to Lady Charlotte’s room, and the sounding of the dinner gong. By which time nearly all the guests were already milling about downstairs in their glad rags.”

  ‘But I take it,’ said Charles, ‘That this private information does not enable you to lay your hands on the missing jewel?”

  “Fraid not. It really has been taken.”

  ‘“And where was it in the hour between five and six?”

  ‘“In Miss Ottalie’s nursery.”

  ‘Charles chewed that over a bit, and then he said, “But if that is the case, Lord Peter, of what possible interest to you can the witness statements be that we have already taken? As you say, they contain answers to the wrong questions.”

  ‘“It was any that are still to be taken that I was hoping to see,” I said.

  ‘Charles said, “The most I can do for you, Lord Peter, is to continue to talk to you as
we are doing now, privately and in my time off. And in doing even that I am taking a risk, as I am sure you realise.”

  ‘“Thank you,” I said. The man had put himself in my hands. I appreciated that. “But the first thing you will have to do is convince Sugg that the damn thing had wandered, and that he must not interview—”

  ‘“The little girl?”

  ‘“She must on no account be bullied.”

  ‘“Indeed not,” said Charles. “We shall have to have the maidservant bullied instead.”

  ‘That was his first indiscretion, Harriet. It let me see that he agreed with me about Sugg.

  ‘Well, I took myself off, and a few minutes later I had a visit from Constable Johnson, knocking discreetly on my door. Sent along by Charles, of course. And I asked him if he remembered seeing Ottalie running about. He did. She was with the tiny girl, Ada. Of course he hadn’t taken any notice of them, being doggedly fixed on seeing potential thieves. He turned out to be a sharp enough young man. The moment he realised that Ottalie came into the picture he was remorseful for not having noted her down in his book, and was racking his brains to help me. He had seen Ottalie running along the corridor, and entering her sister’s room. She had left again almost at once, and he had not written it down. Then a crowd of people had come up the stairs – Captain Ansel, Mrs Ansel, Honourable Freddy, Mrs Sylvester-Quicke – and passed along to their rooms in a burst of conversation. Then Mr Northerby had come up the stairs with Lady Charlotte, and seen her to the door of her room. For a brief moment they had stepped inside, and partly closed the door – the constable assumed they had been kissing. Then Charlotte had opened her door, and walked briskly along the corridor to the foot of the stairs, where she called, “Ottalie, are you there? Do you want to see me dress, or not?” Mr Northerby said, “See you in a minute,” and entered his own room. Charlotte returned to her room without seeing Ottalie, and the hue and cry among the servants was raised almost as soon as she had closed her door. He could give me an exact time when Charlotte came up: five forty-five. That was all he could tell me. But it was enough.’

  ‘It didn’t tell you where the king-stone was.’

  ‘Well, by now, Harriet, I was full of dire suspicion. I expect you are too, at this stage in the story.’

  ‘Such suspicions as I have, Peter – and remember all this is shadowy compared to having been there, and seen and known the participants – are subject to a profound sense of puzzlement about motive.’

  ‘Ah, motive. You know I don’t believe in that.’

  ‘You don’t think people have motives for their evil deeds?’

  ‘Or for their good ones. Of course they do. I just don’t think they have reasonable, thought-out motives that a rational person could deduce and base a line of detecting on. Or, no: you provoke me, Harriet, into overstating my case. I don’t think people always have rational motives. Of course, sometimes they do, I’ll grant that.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Harriet drily.

  ‘But if you are asking about motive, then you have penetrated deeper into all this than I supposed you could from my fancy story-telling. I imagine you are going to ask me why someone should steal something that is about to be theirs anyway.’

  ‘Naturally one wonders that. It seems so stupid a thing to do that one wonders if one is mistaken in one’s suspicions.’

  ‘All will become clear. Unless, that is, you have had enough, and wish to go about your day as planned. I think it has stopped raining. It is positively sunning. Would you like to walk in the park with me? I am well able to narrate while perambulating.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Harriet. ‘Just let me get a coat on.’

  But Bunter was already bringing their coats over his arm, and holding scarves and hats at the ready.

  6

  The Serpentine made a pleasant sight for walkers. It was now a bright, rain-washed late spring afternoon, but still sharply cold. Harriet and Peter, strolling arm in arm, looked, it must be said, just like the sort of Londoners who figure in tourist posters. Harriet was wearing her fur coat, and a Liberty silk scarf, and a pair of two-tone brogues, and Peter still wore a hat out of doors, a practice that was becoming steadily less common. They looked both smart and old-fashioned in the world of the Festival of Britain, which they had resolved to visit as soon as it opened. When they reached the pleasant path along the bank of the lake, Harriet said, ‘Tell on, tell on.’

  ‘The next thing was Sugg’s great coup de théâtre. He stopped me on the stairs as I came down to dinner.

  ‘“I understand, Lord Wimsey, that you have been taking a particular interest in this case,” he said.

  ‘“Who told you that?” I asked. I hoped it wasn’t Charles – Sergeant Parker I should call him. “I can’t help keeping an eye on things, Inspector,” said I. “I was an intelligence officer. It comes with the rations.”

  ‘“War’s over now, in case you haven’t noticed, sir,” he said. “However, it does no harm to humour a young gentleman. I have solved the case. Lord Attenbury’s guests are free to leave. I’m just on my way to tell him so.”

  ‘“Have you recovered the jewel?”

  ‘“Not yet, sir. But we have a warrant for the arrest of the thief and the search of his premises. I have no doubt the recovery of the jewel will follow. The key to the whole thing” – he was preening himself, Harriet, positively preening – “was finding the link between the thief and his inside conspirator. I have arrested her. This was a clever plan, Lord Wimsey, laid well in advance.”

  ‘“You have arrested Jeannette?” I said, with a sinking heart.

  ‘“And even as we speak,” he said, “officers from the Yard are seeking to apprehend Mr Osmanthus, in whose possession the missing jewel will be found. You didn’t think of that, did you? I think you will find, with age and experience, Lord Wimsey, that the appropriate training for the job in hand has a lot to be said for it.”’

  ‘You are making this up, Peter!’ exclaimed Harriet.

  ‘By our first strange and fatal interview,’ he said, ‘By all desires which thereof did ensue, By our long starving hopes, etc., etc., I swear I am not.’

  ‘Can he really have been so patronising? How he must squirm at your later successes!’

  ‘I have wondered whether just this very thing is the source of his ill-disguised dislike of me.’

  ‘We can forgive those who injure us, but we never forgive those we have injured?’

  ‘He didn’t exactly injure me. Annoy would be a better translation.’

  ‘Well, so Inspector Sugg arrested poor Jeannette, and, I take it, Nandine Osmanthus?’ asked Harriet as they stopped to admire a patch of pale blue wood anemones, spreading across the grass like a skylit puddle. ‘Did he have a shadow of a reason?’

  ‘He had made a great discovery, which linked the two: the man known to desire the king-stone, and the person who had had the best opportunity to take it. Jeannette it was, and none other than she who had taken Osmanthus his lunch in the little sitting-room.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So she had an opportunity to conspire with him. Perhaps she had taken the job with the Attenburys specially to await this chance, and indeed had been the one to summon Osmanthus to verify the authenticity of the stone. What do you think of that?’

  ‘I feel a certain shame. If Sugg found it easier to suspect a servant and a foreigner than any member of an upper-class house-party…’

  ‘There is no need for either of us to feel implicated in the bêtise of Inspector Sugg.’

  ‘But I do so feel, somewhat. I must have read dozen upon dozen detective stories in which the writer evinces such prejudices, and, worse, assumes them in the reader.’

  ‘Popular fiction is of its time. And don’t you think, Harriet, that that time is past, or rather passing? I think I can feel the social weather changing as we speak.’

  Harriet mused. If Peter was right about that, she thought, the coming world might be hard on him.

  ‘It
will be hard on my brother the Duke,’ said Peter, as though her thought had been spoken. ‘He is already falling into difficulties trying to look after that great house. I’m tired of these anemones; shall we walk on?’

  ‘When you are ready to complete the tale of the Attenbury emeralds…’

  ‘By all means. Your powers of endurance are astonishing. Of course Sugg’s case collapsed, but with a suddenness and completeness that took our breath away – Bunter’s and mine, I mean. Attenbury’s house-party dissolved at once, leaving, I must say, plenty of wrack behind. But everyone dispersed.

  ‘Arresting Osmanthus was a cardinal error. The jewel had not gone missing till after five o’clock at the earliest; Lady Attenbury’s maid had taken it from the banker’s box and given it to Jeannette at five, and she was unshakeably certain of it. And at the time she did that Osmanthus was on his way back to London, and, it turned out, in company with none other than Mr Whitehead, who had taken the same train, and got so pally with Osmanthus that he provided an indignant alibi. And no emerald of any kind, nor any other jewel than a diamond-studded fountain pen was found in Osmanthus’s quarters at the Oriental Club.’

  ‘What about Osmanthus’s own king-stone? The Maharaja’s, I mean?’

  ‘What indeed? My best guess was that Osmanthus got to hear of the uproar at Fennybrook Hall, and saw at once there was a danger of his own stone being impounded, and got it safely stowed somewhere.’

  ‘Did you take leave of Charles?’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t linger. Being forbidden to leave somewhere makes it a terrible ordeal to stay there, even if, left to oneself, one would choose to stay and one was having a jolly time. Bunter and I packed up and bolted back to Piccadilly as if the devil were after me.’

  ‘Poor Bunter,’ said Harriet with feeling.

  ‘I simply can’t imagine why everyone is so censorious about my driving,’ said Peter. ‘I have never had an accident…’

 

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