She had a good story to tell, and she told it well. Mavis was able without difficulty to grasp the main features of the drama. Her first observation on learning that thieves in the night had visited Mellingham Hall was a sharp 'Didn't I tell you? Didn't I warn you?'. This was followed immediately by an anxious query.
'The man didn't get away with my pearls, did he?'
Her use of the word 'my' cost Grayce a pang. It was not that she had forgotten that the pearls would soon be Mavis's pearls, it was just that she disliked being reminded of it. A mother's love rendered her incapable of denying her child anything she desired, but she could not help thinking it was a pity the pearls fell into this category. She had worn them so long that she had come to look on them as her own property, and it was impossible not to think harsh thoughts of the late Orlando Mulligan in his capacity of testator.
Crushing down this unworthy sentiment, she said:
'No, dear, they are quite safe.'
A sigh of relief came over the telephone.
'That's good news. Not that anything's safe with that crook Bodkin in the house.'
'Don't be absurd, dear.'
'Who's being absurd? Isn't it obvious that he was the mastermind behind last night's song and dance? Did you hear the cry of the brown owl?'
'No, I did not.'
'Probably weren't listening.'
'I was asleep.'
'So you were. I was forgetting. But he must have made it. Was the front door open?'
'No. The man broke a window.'
'Bodkin put him up to that. It would of course look better if his buddy came in through a window. He had it all thought out. Avert suspicion by making it seem an outside job. These Mayfair men are smart. They know their groceries.'
Mother's Love Ordinaries took a sharp drop. As so often happened when she conversed with Mavis, Grayce was conscious of a sudden spasm of irritation. She had been similarly affected in her earlier days by directors who thought they knew everything. With an effort she contrived a light amused tone. 'You and Mr. Bodkin!'
'Don't couple me with that king of the underworld.'
'You've really got a thing about poor Mr. Bodkin, haven't you.'
'Rich Mr. Bodkin hell be if you give him the run of the home much longer. Though it depends of course on how his mob divvies up the loot. Would he be cut in on the gross receipts, do you think, or is he on a straight salary, the pie-faced young plug-ugly?'
Here Mavis did Monty an injustice, for he was not noticeably piefaced. Sandy Miller, indeed, from the very start of their acquaintance had thought his features super. But it was on the other portion of the indictment that Grayce took her stand.
'Mr. Bodkin is not a crook!'
'Want to bet?' said Mavis. 'Anyway, if he's as pure as the driven snow, if not purer, please take those pearls to the bank and have them put them in the safe with strong men with shot-guns watching over them. Goodbye, mother, I must rush. Jimmy is waiting to escort me to the links to shoot a hole or two of golf.'
Grayce hung up the receiver with an unnecessarily forceful bang. It irked her that, strong woman though she was, she was always unable to hold her own in debate with Mavis, a thing which Mr. Llewellyn would have attributed to the sinister influence of Vassar. Let a girl go to college, he maintained, and it was the end. You had no more chance of getting her to listen to reason than an extra in a mob scene would have of trying to impose his views on a ten thousand-a-week director.
As regards Monty, her feelings varied from moment to moment. Under the spell of her daughter's eloquence it was difficult not to classify him as one of those characters whom the police are anxious to interrogate because they think they may be able to help them in their investigations, but, freed from that spell, the thought of all those titled relations of his made her strong again. She declined to believe that any man so closely connected with the flower of England's aristocracy, for which she had a respect amounting to reverence, could be guilty of such plebeian conduct as opening front doors and behaving like a brown owl. That sort of thing might be expected of cads and outsiders, but not of one whose name she presumed was in Debrett's Peerage, if only in small print among the Collateral Branches. It took her not more than a minute or two after hanging up the receiver to identify her daughter's views on Monty as apple sauce.
On one point, however, Mavis had been right. Those pearls unquestionably ought to be taken to the bank without delay, and she had the ideal man to take them, J. Sheringham Adair, private investigator, who as part of his professional duties was probably handling confidential missions of the sort all the time.
She sent for him.
'Mr. Adair.'
'Madam?'
'I hope you can drive a car.'
‘Oh, yes, Madam.'
'Because I want you to take my pearls to the Sussex and Home Counties Bank and give them to the manager to put in his safe.'
Only once in his life had Chimp experienced the thrill these words sent tingling through his weedy little body. That was when he had heard the foreman of the jury say 'Not guilty' when he had been expecting to be shipped to Dartmoor for a five-year stay. On that occasion he had come within an ace of bursting into song like the Cherubim and Seraphim, and he was conscious of a similar impulse now. It would not be too much to say that he felt like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken unlike stout Cortez when with eagle eye he stared at the Pacific.
If he had sung, the melody he would have selected would probably have been 'Now the labourer's task is o'er'. For days he had been straining his brain, trying to think of a way of vanishing unobtrusively from Mellingham Hall with the pearls as fellow-travellers, and now the thing had been handed to him on a plate with watercress round it. He was so moved that he found it difficult to speak.
However, he did so.
'Quite, Madam,' he said.
'I don't like being without them, but with burglars busting in every hour on the hour it's the only safe way. I had to do it in Beverly Hills.'
'I agree with you completely, Madam.'
'I did think that when I came here things would be different, but apparently you get as many bad guys in Sussex as you do over at home.'
'England's trend these days towards Americanisation is very noticeable, Madam.'
'You're telling me! All right, I'll bring them down and you can get going. Tell the manager to guard them with his life.'
'Very good, Madam.'
2
It was a lovely day of blue skies and gentle breezes. Bees buzzed, birds tootled, and squirrels bustled to and fro, getting their sun-tan in the bright sunshine. In a word all Nature smiled, but not so broadly as did Chimp as he sauntered to the garage to smoke a cigarette. His artistic sense of what was fitting in a valet would not let him do this in the open air. He knew also that
Dolly would be returning soon from the station, and he looked forward to telling her the news of the assignment he had just received. She would, he anticipated, have a series of conniption fits.
The antagonism between Chimp and the moon of Mr. Molloy's delight was one of long standing. True, they had been partners in one or two profitable enterprises, for circumstances had sometimes made a partnership unavoidable, but for the most part they had been rivals and enemies, and anyone who was a business opponent of Dolly Molloy did well to watch his step. Opposition when money was at stake always brought to the fore the Lady Macbeth side of her character. Mention has been made of the occasion when she had hit Chimp on the back of the head with a pistol, and he had not forgotten the other occasion when she had discouraged his competition by quenching his thirst with a Mickey Finn, adding insult to injury by putting a lily in his hand as he lay apparently lifeless on the carpet, Sitting now on top of the world with a rainbow round his shoulder, he proposed to get a bit of his own back by taunting her after the manner of the villain in a novel of suspense who has got the hero in his power. There was nothing of generosity to a fallen foe about Chimp Twist. When he was in a
position to rub it in, he rubbed it.
He had not been waiting long when Dolly drove up. She looked as attractive as she always did, but a physiognomist would have detected in the face beneath the perky hat signs of heaviness of heart. Mention has already been made of the buzzing bees, the tootling birds, the blue skies and the gentle breezes which lent such charm to the grounds of Mellingham Hall on this golden afternoon, and one might have expected that anyone in these grounds as of even date would have experienced a considerable uplifting of the soul. But Dolly's soul was far from being uplifted. For her the bees buzzed and the birds tootled in vain.
Last night's fiasco had dealt her a blow from which she had not yet recovered. She had been so sure the thing was in the bag and all that remained to be done was the spending of the money which Mr. Whipple, the receiver of stolen goods with whom she did most of her business, would pay in return for Mrs. Llewellyn's pearls.
The sight of Chimp added just that extra touch of anguish which Fate loves to supply when amusing itself at the expense of a girl in trouble. Her plan had come to nothing, Soapy had gone off leaving her with nobody on whose shoulder she could cry, and on top of all this she was going to have to talk to Chimp Twist, a thing she disliked doing even when in the sunniest of moods.
She made an effort to ignore his presence, but he was not a man easily ignored, especially when he had taunting to do. Like Apollyon in Pilgrim's Progress, he was straddling right across the way, and her only hope of avoiding conversation with him would have been to run over him in the car, a step which despite its obvious appeal she thought it would be unwise to take. She did not waver in the view she had always held that there was no good Chimp but a dead Chimp, but she knew how fussy the police can be about these things.
She trod on the brake, and Chimp came to the widow and inserted head, shoulders and a repulsive grin through it, opening the exchanges with a breeziness that cut her like a knife.
"Hullo, Dolly, you look kind of washed out. That's what comes of keeping these late nights. Early to bed and early to rise, if you want to have that schoolgirl complexion. Been seeing Soapy off, they tell me.'
'Yes.'
'I thought he'd be taking a powder. Did he tell you about last night?'
'Yes.'
'Not so good, that plan of yours. I could have told you it wouldn't work. One of those things that look all right on paper, but don't amount to anything when you try them out. Back to the old drawing board, eh? All that's come of it is Soapy getting nervous prostration. I certainly got a giggle out of that. You should have seen his face when he saw me. The poor fish thought he had it made, little knowing that J. Sheringham Adair, the man who never sleeps, was watching his every move. His hair stood on end, what there is of it. Every time I see him he's lost a lot more, and the worst is yet to come. Have you ever reflected what it'll be like, going through life with a bald Soapy? Doesn't bear thinking of.'
With unerring accuracy he had touched on the topic most calculated to wound. The one dark spot in Dolly's happy life was the fear of Soapy losing his hair. She had tried lotion after lotion, but without success. Unable now to run him over in the car but feeling the urgent need to express herself, she thrust a shapely hand against Chimp's face, and had the satisfaction of seeing him stagger back, rubbing his nose, but he soon returned.
'Was that nice?' he asked reproachfully.
Dolly replied that from her viewpoint it had been. She only wished, she added, that she had a spanner or something at her disposal and had not been obliged merely to use her hand.
'You're a hell cat,' said Chimp.
'No comment.'
'You nearly broke my nose.'
'No comment.'
'One of these days that temper of yours is going to get you into trouble.'
'My temper's all right, so long as people who look as if they ought to be in the monkey house at the Zoo don't wise-crack about Soapy getting bald.'
‘I only said—'
'I know what you said.'
'It was harmless pleasantry.'
Dolly, becoming anatomical, told him what he could do with his harmless pleasantries. When stirred, she was inclined to become a little coarse.
'Changing the subject,’ she proceeded, 'will you kindly get out of my way. I want to put the car in the garage.’
It was Chimp's moment of triumph. He stopped rubbing his nose.
'Don't bother,’ he said. ‘I shall be using it very shortly. Mrs. Llewellyn is sending me to Brighton to put her pearls in the bank.’
'What!'
Chimp stifled a yawn. 'Yes. I wonder if I shall get there with them. One never knows, does one. You're probably sorry now you didn't come in on that seventy-thirty deal. If we'd been partners, you'd have got your cut even though I had done all the work, because an agreement is an agreement and the word of J. Sheringham Adair is his bond. Now, you don't get a nickel and I'm laughing myself sick.’
It was unfortunate for Chimp that at this point he grinned again, possibly in order to give his ocular demonstration, for his merriment had the effect of inflaming to a recklessness of which, had more tact been exercised, she might not have been capable. She was animated by the same sentiment which made Samson pull down the temple pillars at Gaza.
'Don't get a nickel, don't I?' she cried, speaking from between clenched teeth. 'Nor do you. Would it interest you to hear what I'm going to do? I'm going to Mrs. Llewellyn and tell her if she lets you go off with her pearls, she's crazy. "Mrs. Llewellyn", I shall say, "Can I have a moment of your valuable time? I want to put you hep about this J. Sheringham Adair you've got such trust in. He's a crook from Crooksville, and if you want to know how I know, I'm a crook, too, and Mister Sheringham by golly Adair has been associated with me in many of my enterprises". Then I shall supply full details, and if you expect, when you go indoors, to see Welcome on the mat, you'd better think again. I wouldn't put it past her to prod you in the ribs with a knife of Oriental design. It's the sort of thing she used to do on the screen to guys she didn't like. Or maybe she'll set the cat on you.'
It was shown earlier that Dolly had been wishing that she could have been more adequately armed for this interview, thinking wistfully in particular of the pistol of which on a former occasion she had made such excellent use, but she need have no regrets. She had achieved the same gratifying result with words. Beneath the impact of the pistol Chimp had reeled and tottered, but no more noticeably than he was reeling and tottering now. The only difference was that this time he had not got a lump on the back of his head.
It was some time before he was able to speak. When he did, there was incredulous horror in his voice.
'You mean you'd squeal on me?'
'That's right.'
'You can't do this.'
'Says who?'
'But it's not . . .' Chimp paused, searching for the mot juste. 'It's not ethical.'
'Whatever that means.'
'It means it's low. It isn't done. You can't do the dirty on a business competitor just to stop him from putting it over on you in a business deal.'
'Watch me.'
'And another thing. How long do you think you'll go on staying here once she knows all about you?'
'Who wants to stay on here? The main thing is that you won't. You'll be out on your ear before you know what's hit you.'
Chimp was silent for a while, thinking this over. Then, for he was a man ready to make concessions if he had to, he said:
'That deal of ours. We'll call it sixty-forty.'
'No.'
'It's a good offer.'
'Not to me it isn't. I'm going to get those pearls myself.'
'That'll be the day.'
'Yessir, and it won't be long coming. Meanwhile, you be contacting Mrs. Llewellyn and telling her you've got measles or fish poisoning or something, so much regret you can't go to Brighton for her.'
Chimp breathed a heavy breath. It was the breath of a beaten man.
'Understand?'
‘I do.' br />
'Sounds like you were getting married and the minister had said to you "Dost thou?",' said Dolly merrily, and Chimp, who had been thinking how pleasant it would be to strangle her, changed his mind. Something lingering with boiling oil in it would be more in tune with his mood.
Generally on occasions like this the woman has the last word, but now it was Chimp who had it.
'I give Soapy two years,' he said. 'At the end of then his head will look like a new-born billiard ball.'
3
Chimp was not the only member of the Mellingham Hall household who was thinking hard thoughts of Dolly Molloy. In the study which had been placed at his disposal for the writing of his monumental work on the S-L studio Ivor Lewellyn was musing on her with equal warmth. He, too, would gladly have skinned her with a blunt knife and dipped her in boiling oil.
What caused his exasperation was not the fact that Grayce before retiring to rest had come to him, woken him up, filled him in, as he would have said, on the state of affairs, given him the Colt .38, and told him to go downstairs and spend the remainder of the night on a chair in the dining-room—in case, she explained, the marauder should come back. That would have been enough to sour a far more amiable disposition than his, but it was the thought that but for Mrs. Molloy giving warning of his presence the excellent fellow might have got away with those Japanese cultured pearls that seared his soul as if he had backed into a red-hot radiator in the bathroom. He had not been so deeply stirred since the day when Weinstein Colossal had nipped in ahead of him and bought the motion picture rights of a best-selling novel for which he had been bargaining for weeks. An officious meddling interfering woman who hadn't the decency to mind her own business, he classified her as.
At this point in his meditations he dozed off. He had slept but fitfully in the dining-room chair. Grayce, entering, found him snoring and intruded on his slumbers with a powerful poke in the ribs, using her left hand for the purpose. In her right she was carrying her jewel case.