Mr. Llewellyn, in speaking to Monty of this stepdaughter who had come to him as part of the package deal when he and Grayce were joined in holy wedlock, had left no room for doubt as to her formidable qualities, and had not exaggerated them. She provided a striking example of what is so apt to happen when a panther man—her father had been one—marries a panther woman. What you are only too liable to get, should their union be blessed, is an offspring who might be described as super panther or panther plus. This Mavis unquestionably was. Even Grayce quailed before her, and as for Ivor Llewellyn he was, as he had told Monty, a mere peon in her presence. She was a tall, handsome girl with a fine figure and as a rule he liked tall handsome girls with fine figures, but she had a habit, when he made an observation or expressed an opinion of any kind, of raising silent eyebrows at him, sometimes accompanying the gesture with an exasperated click of her tongue, and he found this wounding to the spirit.
'You're late, mother,' she said as Grayce entered the shoppe. 'I’ve been waiting hours.'
'I'm sorry, dear. I was engaging a secretary to help with the book about the studio. And after that I had to go to Antoine's and he kept me for ever. Shampoo and a set and a touch-up. How do you like it?'
'It might be worse.'
'Good.'
'But I don't see how. Why on earth did you go to a plumber like Antoine?'
'I was told he was the best man in London.'
'I've nothing against his morals, but he can't do hair.'
It was plain to Grayce that her child was in one of her moods. She exerted herself to soothe., and presently under the influence of tea and cakes with sugar on top of them something more like harmony prevailed. By the time of the first cigarette Mavis had become, for her, reasonably amiable.
'Well,’’ she said, 'I think the Mellingham place is going to be all right. I liked it.’
'I thought you would.'
'Kind of quiet, of course.’
'That's what I want. A real change from Benedict Canyon Drive.'
'It'll be that right enough. It's lonely, though. How far from Brighton?'
'About an hour in the car.'
'Who's going to drive the car if I'm not there?'
'Mr. Bodkin. The secretary I've engaged. But surely you will be there?'
'I may have to go to some people in Shropshire. Friends of a girl I knew at Vassar. I've practically promised. How about neighbours?'
'Lord Riverhead would be the nearest. He's about six miles away.'
‘It certainly is lonely. Have you given a though to the possibility of burglars?'
'Burglars?'
'It seems to me made to order for them. I think I'll buy you a gun. And you ought to have a guard, like in Beverly Hills. You must hire a detective.’
'Oh, surely that's not necessary.'
'I think it is. Don't forget that that string of pearls of yours isn't really yours. By father's will they come to me when I marry, so I take a natural interest in their well-being, and I don't propose to put them at the disposal of every Tom, Dick or Harry who takes it into his head to drop in at Mellingham Hall with a black mask over his face. And it's no good saying that that sort of thing doesn't happen in England, because it does. An English porch-climber would probably say "Pardon me" before swatting you with his blackjack, but you'd get the treatment just the same. I'm going to phone a private eye and make an immediate appointment for you.'
And so it came about that half an hour later Grayce was sitting in the office of J. Sheringham Adair, private investigator, who conducted his business in a narrow dingy street only a short step from the tea shoppe. Mavis had chosen him from among his fellow sleuths because Adair came at the top of the list of investigators in the telephone directory, which went to prove that he had acted wisely in not using his real name, which was Twist. Chimp Twist his acquaintances called him, his features having a pronounced simian cast, and one employs the word acquaintances rather than friends, for of these he had few.
It was fortunate for the success of their first meeting that Grayce was a self-centred woman who never noticed much of her surroundings, for one more fastidious might have been discouraged by the conditions prevailing in the office and the appearance of its proprietor. Dust was present in large quantities, and not even the most indulgent critic would have claimed that Chimp was a feast for the beholder. His narrow eyes and little waxed moustache would alone have been enough to prevent him winning a beauty competition.
All that impressed itself on Grayce, however, was that he looked intelligent, and intelligence was what she had come for.
She opened the proceedings briskly.
'Mr. Adair?'
'Yes, madam.'
'My daughter telephoned you just now.'
'Mrs. Llewellyn?'
'That's right.'
'And what can I do for you, madam?' asked Chimp. He spoke with all the suavity and old-world courtesy at his command. A glance at Grayce had told him that here was money. A dress such as his visitor was wearing had obviously cost the earth.
‘I’ll come to the point right away.'
'Quite, madam.'
'It's about this pearl necklace of mine.'
Ears do not actually prick up unless they are a dog's, but Chimp's came very near doing so. Pearl necklace, egad. This began to look like a big deal. His professional services hitherto had mostly been required for the obtaining of the necessary evidence in divorce cases.
'It has been stolen?' he asked rather breathlessly.
'No, and I don't want it to be.’ said Grayce. 'That's why I've come to you. I take it you have guards on your staff?’
'Guards, madam?'
'Keeping an eye on the wedding presents when there's a wedding and all that.'
‘Ah, you mean skilled operatives specially assigned to the task of protecting property of value.'
If you like to put it that way. Well, my daughter says I ought to have one.'
'Quite, madam. I have a very large and efficient organisation,' said Chimp without a blush. His was essentially a one-man concern. 'I shall of course put the cream of it at your disposal. When is this wedding to take place?'
'What wedding?'
'I thought you mentioned a wedding.'
'I didn't do any such thing. I only said that about wedding presents as a kind of illustration. You'd best let me tell you this in my own way.'
'Quite, madam.'
'Well, I'm just over from the States, and I've brought along a very valuable pearl necklace.'
'Quite.'
'I don't know why you keep saying "Quite", but no doubt you have your reasons. At present it's at my bank. It could stay there, of course, and there wouldn't be any danger of anyone swiping it, but hell's bells I want to wear the damned thing. Where's the sense of having a fifty thousand dollar rope of pearls if nobody sees it? It's like that poem about jewels not being any more good to you than a cold in the head because they're under water. I don't know if you know it?'
Chimp did not. Catch him on poetry, and you caught him on his weak spot. Except for a few improper limericks. England's great heritage of verse was a sealed book to him.
'One of those professors from UCLA came to dinner one night when I was wearing it and recited a bit of it. I can't remember just how it went, because I was eating asparagus at the time and you know you have to concentrate on that, but the general idea was that for all -we know there's millions of dollars worth of ice that nobody ever gets a sight of because it's hidden away under the sea somewhere. Yes, by golly,' said Grayce with sudden animation, 'I do remember how it went. Funny how these things come back to you. "A whole raft of gems of something something the something caves of ocean bear", he said, and what I'm driving at is that if I'm going to leave those pearls" of mine at the bank, they might just as well be in a cave with the ocean on top of them. Am I right, or not?'
Perfectly correct, Chimp assured her. The value of pearls, if kept in banks, he agreed, was practically equivalent to that of the common cold
.
'On the other hand I don't want any perfect strangers muscling in and getting away with them, so I shall need a guard.'
Chimp, on the point of saying 'Quite', said 'Yes, indeed.'
'A resident guard.’ said Grayce. 'In Beverly Hills we had two, day and night shift, both with sawn-off shot guns. But then in Beverly Hills if you aren't surrounded with willing helpers, you're asking for it. I was arguing with my daughter about it being different here. I said Yes. She said No. She said there were plenty of crooks throwing their weight about in England, and I guess she was talking sense. So it'll be safest to have someone keeping an eye on the criminal classes, and he'll have to be in residence because I've taken this house in the country for the summer, miles away from anywhere. Can you supply someone good?'
Chimp had his answer to this. He would, he said, undertake the job himself.
'Not use one of your skilled operatives?'
'I should not feel justified in entrusting work of such importance to a subordinate, however efficient. Fifty thousand dollars you said your pearls were worth?'
'About that.'
'They must be singularly fine.’
'Quite. My God, you've got me doing it now.'
'Then it is certainly a job for me and not one of my staff. In what capacity would you suggest that I came to your house?'
'Would you mind pretending to be my husband's valet?’
'Not at all, madam. I have frequently impersonated a valet.’
'It'll mean shaving off your moustache.’
'I understand that, madam.’ said Chimp, concealing the pang he felt and trying to give the impression of an artist eager to make any sacrifice for his art. He loved the little thing, but he was more than willing to part with it in return for admission to a house containing a fifty thousand dollar pearl necklace. He reminded himself, too, that waxed moustaches, though crushed to earth, will rise again. It just needed a little patience and top-dressing.
'You see,’ said Grayce, 'it isn't only the necklace I want you to keep an eye on, it's my husband, and as his valet you'll be in a position to do that. You'll be able to watch his every move.'
Chimp started like a war horse at the sound of the trumpet.
'And obtain the necessary evidence?'
'What evidence?'
'Your husband is untrue to you? You are planning a divorce?'
He had said the wrong thing.
'Don't be a damned fool,' said Grayce. 'My husband wouldn't have the nerve to cheat on me if you brought him all the girls in the Christmas number of Playboy asleep on a chair.'
This was a disappointment to Chimp, for he knew that he was at his best when obtaining the necessary evidence, but Grayce continued to look so rich that he crushed down his natural chagrin and enquired why, if Mr. Llewellyn was such a modern St. Antony, she wanted an eye kept on him and his every move watched. In his experience there was only one reason for eye-keeping and move-watching.
'He's on a diet,' said Grace. 'It was my daughter's suggestion. And I'm going to see that he sticks to it. No alcohol, no starchy foods. So search his room from time to time, and if you find he's hiding cakes and candy and all that, tell me immediately and I'll attend to it.’
She spoke with so much of the old panther woman spirit in her voice that Chimp, though not a sensitive man, gave an involuntary shudder. He could picture her attending to it.
'He's been putting on weight for years, and he was stout enough to start with. I had of course no means of knowing what he got up to at the studio canteen, but now it will be different. With you and me working together as a team we'll have him looking like Fred Astaire. Did I give you the address of this place I've taken in the country?'
'No, madam.'
'Mellingham Hall, Mellingham, Sussex. But don't come there till you hear from me, because we're going to the south of France for a spell. Cannes. You ever been to Cannes?'
Chimp said that he had not, and the impression he gave was that he would have preferred not to hear the name of that resort mentioned. This was because two acquaintances of his whom he disliked intensely were vacationing there, a Mr. Molloy and his wife Dolly. Their paths in the past had crossed frequently, always with unpleasant results.
Having ushered Grayce courteously to the door and assured her that he would fly to her side the moment he received her summons, he sat down at his desk and resumed the study of the picture postcard he had been brooding on when she arrived. It presented a charming picture of the Croisette at Cannes; it was signed 'Soapy and Dolly', and it bore the words in a flowing feminine hand 'Having wonderful time. Glad you're not here'.
It was a comfort to him to feel that there was no danger of this uncongenial couple being at Mellingham Hall during his sojourn there. The occasion when Mrs. Molloy, who was rather the Lady MacBeth type, had hit him on the back of the head with the butt end of a pistol was still green in his memory.
Chapter Four
Monty was writing a letter to Gertrude.
The intelligent reader will recall, though the vapid and irreflective reader may have forgotten, that Mr. Butterwick, in outlining his conditions, had made the concession that a certain amount of correspondence would be permitted, and Monty had been swift to avail himself of this unexpected softening of the old buster's iron front. At half past eleven on the night of his arrival at Mellingham Hall he had retired to his room and taken pen in hand.
The letter, omitting the endearments customary in such communications, ran as follows:
'Well, here I am at the above address, starting on my second shot at earning my living for a year as insisted on by your fat-headed father, whose indigestion I hope, is not yielding to treatment. He has probably told you he won't let all the sweat of the brow I put in at Llewellyn City count, which, if you ask me, is about as low as you can get and if that's the way he treats contracts in his ruddy import and export business, all I can say is that he had better watch his step or he'll find himself on the losing end of a substantial legal action for breach of same. I may mention that opinion at the Drones Club is solid in condemning him as a twister and a crook.
'Fortunately I have been able to baffle his sinister schemes and ere long he's going to look sillier than he does already. He thought I wouldn't find a job, but I have. You remember Pop Llewellyn. He's in England now, and his wife is making him write the history of Superba-Llewellyn, and I have been engaged to help him with it. It's bound to take at least a year, and even a bunko artist like your father can't say this one doesn't count, as I am getting a regular salary.
'Talking of Llewellyn, this will give you a laugh. The first thing he did when we met was to greet me like a long-lost son and touch me for several hundred quid. You are perplexed. You raise your eyebrows. "But surely", you say, "Llewellyn is a man who wears thousand dollar bills next to the skin winter and summer. Why does he borrow money?". The point is well taken, but there is a simple explanation. It seems that he and his wife have a joint account, and he can't draw a cheque without her approval. This made it awkward for him because they were on their way to Cannes and he wanted to play at the tables there, which she would never have allowed. So he touched me, and we are now as closely knit as ham and eggs. In other words he is no longer the Pop Llewellyn who was the menace when I was on the studio payroll but a bosom friend.
'Ma Llewellyn is a tough baby and her daughter, whom I have not yet met, is, according to the scuttlebutt, even tougher. But we get along all right. She is all for the aristocracy, and has got the impression that I am related to half the titled families in England. So she isn't likely to fire me, so I am sitting pretty as Pop Llewellyn wouldn't get rid of me to please a dying grandmother. In short, it looks like a pretty bleak future for J. B. Butterwick. I've got him cold.
'Things at the moment are quiet at Mellingham Hall. There may be a lot of house parties later, but just now the only visitors are an American couple named Molloy, with whom the Llewellyn's got matey at Cannes. I gather that Molloy has large interests i
n oil over in America. At first he talked of nothing else, but half-way through dinner tonight he suddenly cheesed it. I should Mrs. Molloy—he calls her Dolly—gave him a wifely frown because she thought he was boring everybody.
'Must stop now. Getting late. All my love. Remember me to your father and tell him I hope he chokes.'
2
Meanwhile, in a room further from the roof and considerably more ornate than the attics assigned to secretaries, Mr. Molloy and his wife Dolly were preparing for bed. Mrs. Molloy, clad in a dressing gown, had already rubbed off the baby oil with which she had coated her attractive face and was substituting for it the cream from an Elizabeth Arden jar for which a Cannes beautician had been looking everywhere since she had last paid him a visit, while Mr. Molloy, in pyjamas, smoked the last cigarette of the day and between puffs gazed at her adoringly, for even when covered with cream she was the light of his existence. He often said he did not know how he could get along without her. This was particularly so when she was hitting Chimp Twist on the back of the head with the butt ends of pistols.
They were a comely couple. Mr. Molloy's resemblance to an American senator of the better sort inspired in those he met a confidence which was of the greatest help to him in his life-work of selling stock in nonexistent oil wells. It was his modest boast that if he were allowed to wave his arms and really get going on the sales talk, he could unload Silver River oil shares on prospects hailing from even Aberdeen or New England.
The talents of Dolly, his wife, lay in another direction. Though occasionally deviating from her chosen profession if something unusually good presented itself, she was primarily a shoplifter of unique gifts, the quickness of whose hand never failed to deceive the eye. As Mr. Molloy admiringly put it, her fingers just flickered, making the whole operation seem as simple and easy as taking sweets from a sleeping child.