'Yes.’
'What presence of mind!'
'Yes.'
'What was in the can?'
'Bottles.’
'They must have made that total abstainer wish he hadn't spoken.'
'Probably.’
'And after the can was empty she rammed it down on his head?'
'Yes.'
'Colossal! Sensational! One only wishes she had had a custard pie she could have thrown at him, but of course one can't have everything. Bodkin, you must marry that girl.'
'But she's in love with someone else.'
'Just thinks she is. That often happens in the first reel or two. Comes the dawn, and she finds it's Cary Grant she's in love with. You must cut this jerk out, Bodkin, just as Cary Grant always did. You can do it if you try. He's probably a . . . Good Lord,' said Mr. Llewellyn. 'Well, fry me for an oyster.'
'Now what?'
'I've just remembered. Forget my own name next. Something I've been meaning to tell you all evening, only it slipped my mind. You recall that I was dancing with the half-portion?'
Monty said he did. It had not been a spectacle easy to forget.
'You had told me she loved another, and, if you recollect, I said I would check up, so that if he turned out to wear side whiskers or was a movie actor we could take steps through the proper channels.'
'Yes.'
'Well, I checked up and it's all right.'
'What is?'
'It.'
‘I don't follow you.'
‘It's you.'
'Who?'
'The man she loves.'
'Me?'
'Exactly. I asked her straight out, because I knew she regarded me as a father figure in whom she could confide. "Pint size", I said as we started to dance, "there's a lot of talk going around about you being starry-eyed about some man or other. Who is he? Fill me in". I said. Well, at first she talked some nonsense about it being none of my business, but eventually she came clean. "If you will stop treading on my feet and promise faithfully not to breathe a word to Monty, I'll tell you", she said. I couldn't see why she specified this, but I promised faithfully not to breathe a word to you, and then she said that you were the man she loved. Apparently she was just kidding you along with all that stuff about loving someone else. One sort of understands how she figured it out. She wanted to stimulate competition. By showing you you weren't the only onion in the stew she would get your attention, and that would be half the battle. After that it would just be a matter of giving you the works. Women are fond of tricks like that. That school marm of mine in Wales. I don't suppose I'd ever have thought of making my presence felt with her if it hadn't been for her always telling me what a swell guy the organist at her church was. It was only after she had told me for about the twenty-fifth time that he was a perfect gentleman and had mesmeric eyes that I felt something would have to be done about it. You are that way about the midget, aren't you? Yes, I can see you are, and after the way she dumped that can on the cop I'm not surprised. A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ash-can full of bottles is obviously good wife and mother timbre. So get an immediate move on, my boy, and heaven speed your wooing. Why are you gulping like a bull-frog?'
'I was thinking of Gertrude.'
'Who?'
'Gertrude Butterwick. I'm engaged to her.'
‘I’d forgotten that.'
'I hadn't.'
'That is a difficulty.'
‘It is.'
For perhaps half a mile there was silence in the car. Then Mr. Llewellyn spoke.
'I see the solution.'
‘You do?'
'Provided you can answer one question satisfactorily.'
Yes?'
'It is this. Has she a contract?'
'A what?'
'Contract, dammit. You know what a contract is.'
'I didn't propose to her in writing, if that's what you mean.'
'Then you're sitting pretty. She can't sue. You just call her up on the phone and tell her it's all off.'
Monty was appalled.
'I can't do that.'
'Why not?'
'I couldn't.'
'I'll do it, if you like. What's her number?'
'No, no, no.'
'I don't get you, Bodkin. You baffle me. I wish you wouldn't make frivolous objections. You don't love her, do you?'
'No.'
'And you do love the half-portion?’
'Yes.'
'And love conquers all.'
'It doesn't conquer ringing up a girl you're engaged to and telling her it's all off.’
‘I don't see it.'
Monty did not reply. He drove on through the night—now the quiet night, for his companion had fallen into a huffy silence. It was plain to him that nothing was to be gained by discussing the subject further. If Mr. Llewellyn could regard the sacred word of an English gentleman so lightly, apparently completely unaware that there are things a chap can do and things a chap cannot do, driving on through the quiet night was about all that was left to a chap.
Chapter Eight
On the lawn of the house in Shropshire to which she had been so abruptly summoned by a daughter in need of a mother's advice Grayce was walking with Mavis, deep in discussion of James Ponder. They had been having summit meetings for days on the same subject, and Mavis, whose temperament tended to be impatient, was saying with some peevishness that Grayce ought for heaven's sake to have been able to make up her mind about him by this time. It fortunately happened that Grayce had. She had come to a decision that morning. She spoke now at some length, but what she said could have been condensed into the words 'Go to it'. The impression James Ponder had made on her had been wholly favourable.
'You couldn't do better, dear.’
‘I'm glad you think so.’
'He's charming.’
'He charms me.’
'Very fine family.’
'Grade A. One of his ancestors came over with William the Conqueror, or would have if he hadn't missed the boat. Some trouble about losing his passport.’
'It's a pity he won't succeed to the title.’
'No, there are about fifty-seven sons ahead of him.’
'And of course one is always taking a chance with someone as good-looking as that.'
‘I'll risk it.’
'He may need some handling.'
'He'll get it.’
'Those photogenic men so often do.’ said Grayce. She was thinking of Mavis's father, the first of her three husbands, who had been so photogenic that she had sometimes felt that it would require the united efforts of J. Edgar Hoover and a posse of his F.B.L assistants to keep an adequate eye on him. 'You have to be prepared for anything.'
'I'll manage.’
'Yes, I think you will.’ said Grayce. As they were walking side by side, it was Mavis's profile that presented itself to her most of the time, and that firm chin gave her confidence. It was not likely that much could go wrong matrimonially with a girl with a chin like that. She was filled with maternal pride. To Ivor Llewellyn Mavis might be the menace in the treatment, but the very qualities that made him quail were those which appealed to her. A panther woman likes to feel that her daughter has inherited the panther strain and is well able to cope with the handsomest of husbands. Marriage, she was aware, is a lottery, and Greek gods are not always to be relied on, but if James Ponder, having taken Mavis for his bride, were to stray from the straight and narrow path, he would know later on that he had been in a fight.
'I don't think you need have any uneasiness, dear.'
‘I haven't.’
'So if he proposes?'
'When.’ Mavis corrected. 'I am arranging it for after lunch. I've been avoiding him for the last few days, so I shall get him alone in one of these shady nooks they have here and ask him why he has been avoiding me. He will say he hasn't been avoiding me, and I shall say Yes, he has been avoiding me, and it hurt me, Jimmy, hurt me terribly, I thought we were such friends. And he will say this, and I sh
all say that, and I shall say that and he will say this, and in about five minutes by my stopwatch we ought to be fading out on the embrace. Any questions?'
'None, darling.’
'You like the script?'
‘I love it.'
'Start shooting, you feel?'
'As soon as you can.'
They had seated themselves on a rustic bench at the end of the lawn, and Grayce, able now to see her daughter's eyes, found her confidence increased by the light of determination in them. It seemed to her unthinkable that James Ponder would be able to resist them, especially if filled, as no doubt they would be, with tears. James Ponder, she felt, was as good as on his honeymoon already.
It added to her gratification that she would now be able to go home. She had found her visit pleasant enough, but she never enjoyed being a guest and having no say in the running of the establishment. It cramped her not to be in command.
'Then as you don't need me any longer.’ she said, 'I'll be leaving. There's a good train in the afternoon.'
'Stay on if you like. I know they'll be glad to have you.'
'No, I think I'll be getting back.'
'What's your hurry?'
Tor one thing I want to see if your step-father is keeping to his diet.'
'You'll probably find him twice the size he was when you left. With you away, he must have been eating everything in sight.'
'He wouldn't have the nerve.'
‘I don't know so much. Somebody may have been smuggling food in to him.'
'Nobody would dare.'
'How about the secretary bird? What did you say his name was?'
'Mr. Bodkin. He would never do anything like that.’
'You consider him trustworthy?'
'I'm sure he is.’
‘I'm not.'
'What do you mean?'
'I've been thinking a good deal about our Mr. Bodkin since we met, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw a medium-sized elephant. He's got a lot of explaining to do before he can sell me the idea that he's on the level. For one thing he's a sort of Houdini. How did he get out of that closet? I went to let him out, and he had gone. And I know I locked the door. No, it's no good saying it might have been the wind. Winds don't turn keys, and anyway there wasn't any wind. He picked the lock somehow, and anyone who could do that must have had a lot of practice. He's probably broken out of half the prison cells in England. I suppose you took him on without bothering to ask him for references?'
Remembering that this was precisely what had happened, Grayce did not answer the question. Instead she said: 'There can't be anything wrong with Mr. Bodkin. He comes of a very good family. He's related to all sorts of prominent people.'
'Who told you that?'
'The Miller girl who works for me.'
'And who told her?'
'I suppose he did.'
'Exactly. I should imagine he was lying, but if it's true, it means he's one of those hard-up younger sons who hope to make their pile by working in with a gang of crooks.'
'Mavis!'
'It's no good saying Mavis. That's the way all the evidence points. Why had he opened the front door that night?'
'He may have been going for a walk.’
'At two in the morning?'
'It does seem odd.’
'I would call it a dead give-away. You'd better face it, mother. Guys like Bodkin are the scum of the earth. Mayfair men, the papers call them. They're so smooth—good looks, good clothes, good manners and all—that people let them into their homes without a suspicion that they're the advance guard of some mob or other, and once in they do the job they've been assigned to. Shall I tell you why Bodkin is a pleasant visitor? He's been instructed by his boss to work the inside stand.’
'I don't know what you mean.'
'Perfectly simple. He gets settled in, ingratiates himself with one and all; then, when he feels that zero hour has arrived, goes and stands at the front door and signals to his pals to come running. Do honest men come down in the middle of the night and open front doors? Of course they don't. In another minute, if I hadn't appeared, Brother Bodkin would have been imitating the cry of the brown owl or something as a tip-off to his associates that now was the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. It's no use saying he wouldn't. The man who sneak s down and opens front doors at two in the morning is a man who you can bet your bottom dollar is all set to imitate the cry of the brown owl at the drop of a hat.’
Grayce was shaken. This eloquence was having its effect, as well it might, for Mavis had been on the debating team at Vassar and there was nothing you could teach her in the way of marshalling an argument and driving home a point. Just so had Demosthenes swayed his audiences in ancient Greece. For a moment she was trembling on the verge of conviction: then the thought of Monty's ancient lineage and long line of aristocratic kinsmen gave her strength.
'I don't believe it.’
'You'd better believe it.’
'Mr. Bodkin is just an ordinary young man. There's nothing sinister about him.’
'That's why the gang brass hats gave him the assignment. It had to be someone who looked all right and inspired confidence. If you take my advice, you'll fire him the moment you get back.’
Again the thought of Monty's blue-blooded relatives fortified Grayce. It was her intention in due season to meet and fraternise with these, and she could hardly expect them to take to their bosoms a woman who fired him the moment she got back. Why, for all she knew he might number among them the very aristocrats she had come to Mellingham Hall to hobnob with. A nice position she would be in if she dismissed a young man who was the apple of the respective eyes of Lord Riverhead, Lord Woking and Sir Peregrine Voules, Bart, all of whom, with their ladies, she was hoping to ply with strawberries and cream at garden parties. 'Most extraordinary' and 'Not cricket, what?' were the criticisms her conduct would elicit, and her invitations would be curtly refused.
'Well, I'll think it over,' she said.
2
The Molloys were dressing for dinner, Dolly prattling gaily, Soapy, who as a rule was never averse to what is known as kidding back and forth, strangely silent. He seemed distrait, and on his Shakespearian forehead—his hair, as Chimp Twist had told him, was beginning to recede a good deal in spite of patent remedies supplied to his wife free of charge by some of the best shops in London, Paris and New York—a frown had appeared. Dolly, seeing it in the mirror, was concerned. 'Something on your mind, honey?'
Soapy stirred uncomfortably. He had hoped that question would not be asked.
'It's nothing.'
'Ah, come on, what is it?'
Soapy hesitated. He knew that Dolly was enjoying this quiet interlude at Mellingham Hall, and he hated to spoil her pleasure. He also knew that evasiveness would mean more probing, far into the night. He chose the lesser of the two evils.
It's just that I feel we're wasting our time here.'
'Getting a nice rest.'
'I ought to be working.'
'That's the artist in you, sweetie. All artists get kind of nervous when they take time off.'
'I don't want time off.'
'It's what any doctor would advise. Got to watch your health. You need a holiday after all that hard work you put in at Cannes.'
'Cannes!' Soapy sighed. 'There's a place that calls out all the best in a man. Every time the Blue Train pulls in it's loaded to the roof with rich suckers just longing for a chance of parting with their money. You hardly need sales talk.'
'You certainly had a good season there this year.'
'I did clean up,' Soapy agreed, his gloom lightening a little. 'Remember that fellow I sold all those Silver River shares to?'
'I know the fellow you mean. I've forgotten his name.'
'Me, too.'
'Small clipped moustache.'
'That's right. I met him in the Casino bar.'
'And wove your spell.'
'You bet I wove it, and I didn't even need to wave my
hands. Now there's an instance of what I mean about Cannes. This guy was a big noise in one of the top jewellery firms and you'd think a man like that would have the sense not to buy oil shares from a stranger he was having a drink with in a bar, but no, that Riviera atmosphere was too much for him.'
'And your winning ways, sweetie.'
'But mostly the Cannes air. That's what saps the intelligence. I keep feeling I ought to go back there.’
'And leave those pearls?'
'They've left me. She's gone off on a toot somewhere and taken them with her. She may be away for weeks.' 'No, she got back this evening,'
'You're sure?'
'Sure I'm sure. I saw her.’
'Well, that's something.’
'She was in the car with that Bodkin guy. Met her at the station, I guess. I believe he's in love.’
'Who is?'
'Bodkin.’
'What makes you think that?'
'He looks like he was. Girl must have turned him down. Has he said anything to you?'
'Eh?'
'Do listen, honey. What's the matter with you? I said "Has he said anything to you about being turned down by a girl?".'
'No, why would he? No skin off my nose if his love-life blows a fuse.'
It would have amazed Monty if he had known that what was probably the most poignant love tragedy since Abelard and Heloise could be treated with such indifference, and even Dolly seemed shocked.
'That's a nice way to talk!'
'Eh?'
Dolly had heard enough. A wife's instinct told her that something was being kept from her by her mate, and she intended to know what it was.
'Come clean, Soapy. There's something else on your mind besides being homesick for the Riviera. What's biting you?'
‘It's nothing.'
'Yes, it is, and it's no good trying to kid me it isn't. I can tell'
Her tone convinced Soapy that further reticence would be disastrous. Their married life had always been modelled on that of two love-birds, but even in such union there come moments when the female love-bird explodes like a stick of dynamite. He shrank from saying what he was about to say, for he knew it would give offence, but he said it.
'Well, if you want to know, honey, I was sort of wondering if we hadn't goofed in not sitting in with Chimp on that pearls thing.'
Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkin Page 10