'There might be a play in that. How's it coming along?'
'I couldn't go on with it. I hadn't time.'
'Well, you'll have plenty of time now. I'm going to take you down to Loose Chippings in my car right away. Five minutes for you to round up your snakes and ten for me to pack a bag, and we're off.'
Sally uttered a cry of anguish.
'But the guinea-hen!'
'What guinea-hen would that be?'
'I was going to cook you one for dinner.'
Leila Yorke was firm.
'It would take more than a guinea-hen to make me stay another hour in this lazar house. Give it to the cats. There must be some of them still around. If they don't want it, you eat it.'
'I'm dining with Freddie in London.'
'Well, that's fine. Then what you do now is trot around to The Nook and tell Cornelius I'm leaving and he's at liberty to sublet Castlewood as soon as he likes. You stay on tonight and tomorrow close the place up and come to Claines with the bags and baggage. All clear?'
'All clear, colonel.'
'Then pick up your feet and get going. If Cornelius wants to know why I'm pulling up stakes, tell him I think this Valley Fields he's so fond of is a pain in the neck and I wouldn't go on living here if the London County Council came and begged me on their bended knees. He'll probably have an apoplectic fit and expire, but what of that? It'll be just one more grave among the hills. Well, Joe,' said Leila Yorke, as the door closed behind Sally, 'here we are, eh?'
'Yes, Bessie.'
'Together again.'
'Yes, Bessie.'
'Gosh, how I've missed you all these years, Joe! Remember that flat in Prince of Wales's Mansions, Battersea. And now everything's all right. You can't give me anything but love, baby, but that just happens to be all I require. By the way, I hope I'm not taking things too much for granted when I assume that you do love me as of yore? Well, that's fine. I thought I'd better ask. Do you know what we're going to do, Joe? I'm going to take you for a Continental tour, starting in Paris and wandering around from there wherever the fancy takes us.'
'Sort of second honeymoon.'
'Second, my foot! We never had a first one. I couldn't leave my sob-sistering, and you were out touring the number two towns with some frightful farce or other.'
'Mystery drama.'
'Was it? Well, whatever it was, we certainly didn't have a honeymoon. It's going to be very different this time. You've never been abroad, have you, Joe?'
'Once, to Dieppe.'
'Well, I've nothing against Dieppe. But wait till you see Marvellous Madrid and Lovely Lucerne, not to mention Beautiful Barcelona and Gorgeous Greece. And when we get back, you can start working on that play.'
When Sally returned, she found the exodus well under way. Leila Yorke was at the wheel of her car, and her husband was putting her bag and the snake basket on the back seat.
'All set,' said Sally. 'I told him
'How did he take it?'
'He seemed stunned. He couldn't grasp the idea of anyone wanting to leave Valley Fields.'
Leila Yorke said it took all sorts to make a world and Mr. Cornelius was to be pitied rather than censured, if he was weak in the head, and the car drove off. It was nearing open country, when Joe Bishop uttered an exclamation.
'Bessie!'
'Hullo?'
'Do you know what?'
'What?'
'I believe I forgot to pack Mabel!'
'You talk like an absent-minded trunk murderer. Who's Mabel?'
'You remember Mabel. The green one with the spots.'
Oh, one of those darned snakes. Are you sure?'
'Not sure, but I think so.'
'Well, never mind. She'll be company for Molloy,' said Leila Yorke.
22
AT Mr. Cornelius's residence. The Nook, that night prevailing conditions were not any too good. A cloud seemed to have settled on the premises, turning what had been a joyous suburban villa equipped with main drainage, company's own water, four bed, two sit and the usual domestic offices into a house of mourning. Sombre is the word that springs to the lips.
When Sally, speaking of Mr. Cornelius at the moment when she had informed him of her employer's abrupt departure, had described him as stunned, she had been guilty of no over-statement. The news had shaken him profoundly, dealing a heavy blow to his civic pride. It seemed scarcely credible to him that anyone having the opportunity of living in Valley Fields should wantonly throw that opportunity away. Leila Yorke was, of course, a genius who laid bare the heart of woman as with a scalpel, but even geniuses, he considered, ought to draw the line somewhere. As he sat with Mrs. Cornelius at their evening meal - a rather ghastly repast in which cocoa, kippered herrings and pink blancmange played featured roles - he was still ruffled.
Mrs. Cornelius, too, appeared to have much on her mind. She was a stout, comfortable woman, as a rule not given to strong emotions, but now she was in the grip of one so powerful that the kippered herring trembled as she raised it to her lips. Even Mr. Cornelius, though not an observant man, noticed it, and when later in the proceedings she pushed the pink blancmange away untasted, he knew that the time had come to ask questions. Only a spiritual upheaval on the grand scale could have made her reject what, though it tastes like jellied blotting-paper, had always been one of her favourite foods.
'You seem upset, my dear,' he said.
A tear stole into Mrs. Cornelius's eye. She gulped. It had been her intention to remain silent till a more suitable moment, but this solicitude was too much for her.
'I'm terribly upset, Percy. I'm simply furious. I hadn't meant to tell you while you were eating, because I know how little it takes to give you indigestion, but I can't keep it in. It's about Mr. Widgeon.'
'Oh, yes? He was groaning in the garden, poor fellow.'
'So you told me. Well, I've found out why. I was talking to his cousin, the policeman, before you came back from your office, and he told me all about it. That man Molloy!'
'Are you speaking of Mr. Molloy of Castlewood?'
'Yes, I am, and he ought to be Mr. Molloy of Wormwood Scrubs. He's nothing but a common swindler. Mr. Widgeon told his cousin the whole story. He persuaded Mr. Widgeon to put all the money he had into a worthless oil stock, and now Mr. Widgeon is penniless.'
'You mean that Silver River of which he spoke so enthusiastically has no value at all?'
'None. And Molloy knew it. He deliberately stole Mr. Widgeon's money, every penny he had in the world.'
Mr. Cornelius's brow darkened. His beard wagged censoriously. He was very fond of Freddie.
'I feared this,' he said. 'I never trusted Molloy. I remember shaking my head when young Widgeon was telling me about him selling him these oil shares. I found it hard to believe that an American business man would have sacrificed a large financial gain merely because he liked somebody's face. Things look very bad, I'm afraid. Widgeon, I know, needs three thousand pounds to put into some coffee concern in Kenya. He was relying on a substantial increase in the value of these Silver River shares to provide the money.'
'And he's engaged to that nice girl, Miss Yorke's secretary.
But now of course they won't be able to get married. And you're surprised I can't eat blancmange. I wonder you can.'
Mr. Cornelius, who had been punctuating his remarks with liberal segments from his heaped-up plate, lowered his spoon guiltily; and a somewhat embarrassing silence followed. It was broken by the sound of the telephone ringing in the hall. He went to answer it, and came back breathing heavily. Behind his beard his face was stern. He looked like a Druid priest who has discovered schism in his flock.
That was Molloy,' he said. 'He wanted to know if there was any chance of Miss Yorke vacating Castlewood, because, if so, he might like to take the house again. I gave him a very short answer.'
'I should think so!'
'I told him that Miss Yorke had already left, and he expressed pleasure and said that he would let me know definitely abou
t his plans in a day or two, and then I said that in no circumstances would I even consider his application. "I know all, Mr. Molloy," I said. "Castlewood," I said, "is not for such as you." I then proceeded to tell him just what I thought of him.'
'And what did he say?'
1 seemed to catch something that sounded like "Ah, nerts!" and then he hung up.'
'How splendid of you, Percy! I wish I could have heard you.'
'I wish you could.' There was a pause.
'I think I'll have a little blancmange, after all,' said Mrs. Cornelius.
In holding the view that his denunciation of Soapy had been of a nature calculated to bring the blush of shame to the most hardened cheek, Mr. Cornelius had been perfectly correct. Only once in his life had he expressed himself more forcibly, on the occasion when he had caught the son of the family which had occupied Peacehaven in pre-Widgeon days, a bright lad of some nine summers, shooting with a catapult at his rabbits. But bitter though his words had been, they left Soapy, who had often been denounced by experts, quite unmoved. He was not a man who ever worried much about harsh words or even physical violence. The falling-out with Oofy Prosser at Barribault's restaurant, for instance, had seemed to him so trivial that he had scarcely mentioned it to his wife on his return from lunch. He classed that sort of thing under the heading of occupational risks, and dismissed it from his mind. All that had interested him in the house agent's observations was the statement that Leila Yorke had left Castlewood. Having replaced the receiver, he sat waiting eagerly for Dolly to return and hear the news. Finding herself short of one or two little necessities, she had gone out earlier to do some shopping.
'Honey,' he cried, as at long last the door opened, 'Guess what. Great news!'
Dolly, who had been putting down her purchases, if one may loosely call them that, turned sharply.
'Don't tell me---?'
'Yep!'
'She's gone?'
'Left this evening.'
'Who told you?'
'That guy Cornelius. He's just been on the phone.'
'So it's official?'
'That's right.'
'Gee!' said Dolly with fervour.
She was feeling all the pleasurable emotions of a general who has seen his plan of campaign work out satisfactorily and knows that he will have something good to include in his memoirs.
'I thought those snakes would do it. Only thing I was afraid of was that there mightn't have been an answer to that advert, on account of it isn't everybody that's got snakes. But I thought it was worth trying, and it was. Well, I'd been hoping to take my shoes off and put my feet up and relax a while, because let me tell you an afternoon's shopping's hard on the dogs and mine feel like they was going to burst, but we've no time for that. Let's go.'
'Go? What's the hurry? We've all the time there is now. We've got it made.'
As had so often happened in the course of their married life, Dolly found her consort's slowness of apprehension trying. She would have supposed that even Soapy would have seen what the hurry was. But where a less loving wife might have responded with some wounding reference to Dumb Isaacs who must have been dropped on their heads when babies, she merely sighed, counted ten and explained the situation.
'Look,' she said. 'You know the Yorke dame hired Chimp to find her lost husband. Well, when a woman's got a private eye working on an assignment like that, she don't cut herself off from the latest news bulletins. If she's checking out, she lets him know. She gets on the phone before she starts and says, "Hey, I'm leaving for the country. Here's my forwarding address."'
Soapy's jaw fell. As always, he had not thought of that. 'You think she told Chimp she was pulling out?'
'Of course she did. He may be on his way to Castlewood now.'
'Gosh!'
'Only I've an idea he'd wait till it was later. These summer evenings there's generally people about in a place like Valley Fields, and Chimp's one of those cautious guys. Still, we don't want to sit around here, chewing the fat. We gotta move.'
'I'm ready.'
'Me, too. But let's not go off half-cock. What'll we need? A torch?'
'Why a torch?'
Dolly counted ten again.
'Because when we get to Castlewood, we aren't going to switch on all the lights. On account we don't want to shout out to the neighbours, "Hey! You thought this house was empty, didn't you? Well, that's where you was wrong. The Molloys are here, come to pick up that Prosser ice." '
'Oh, I see,' said Soapy, taking her point. He could generally understand things, if you used short words and spoke slowly.
'So we'll need a torch. And, seeing that quite likely Chimp'll blow in while we're there, it wouldn't hurt,' said Dolly, 'to take along my blackjack.'
Soapy nodded silently, his heart too full for speech. What a helpmeet, he was saying to himself. She thought of everything.
The journey from the metropolis to Valley Fields can be made by train, by omnibus and part of the way by tram, but if you are in a hurry and expense is no object, it is quicker to take a taxi. Soapy and Dolly did this, and were fortunate to get one of the newer and speedier kind, though to their anxious minds the vehicle seemed to be merely strolling. It was a silent ride. Light conversation is impossible at times like this. Only when they reached their destination and Castlewood's dark, deserted aspect heartened them, did either speak.
'Looks like he's not here yet,' said Soapy.
'We'll know that better when we've scouted around some.'
'How do you mean?'
'Well, if Chimp's come, he'll have broken a window or sump'n, or how could he get in?'
'Oh, I see.'
'You go around that side. I'll go this.'
They met at the back door.
'All straight my end,' said Soapy.
'Same mine. I guess we're in time.'
'You had me worried for a moment, baby.'
'I wasn't feeling any too good neither myself,' said Dolly. 'Well, here goes.'
Reaching in her dainty bag, she drew out the blackjack and with a firm hand broke the kitchen window. To Soapy, whose nervous system was not at its best, the sound of splintering glass seemed to ring through the silent night like the clashing of a thousand dishes coming apart in the hands of a thousand cooks, and he waited, breathless, for posses of policemen to come charging on the scene with drawn truncheons. But none appeared. Castlewood and its environs were part of Freddie's cousin George's beat that night, and at the moment of their illegal entry that able officer was standing behind a bush in the garden of a house some quarter of a mile distant, enjoying the cigarette to which he had been looking forward for the last two hours. To keep the record straight, he was also thinking tender thoughts of Jennifer Tibbett, his invariable custom when on night duty.
Standing in the kitchen, Dolly switched on her torch.
'I'm going up. Meet me in the living-room.'
‘You taking the torch?'
'Sure I'm taking the torch. I want to see what I'm doing, don't I?'
‘I’ll bump into something in the dark.'
'Well, bump,' said Dolly indulgently. 'Nobody's stopping you. This is Liberty Hall, as that cop said.'
'Don't talk about cops, honey, not at a moment like this,' begged Soapy nervously. It does something to me. And don't be too long upstairs.'
On her return, not even the sight of the chamois leather bag dangling from her fingers was able to restore his composure. He eyed it almost absently, his mind on other things.
'Say, look,' he said. 'Do you suppose this joint is haunted?'
'Shouldn't think so. Why?'
'I heard something.'
'Some what sort of thing?'
Soapy searched for the mot juste.
'Sounded kind of slithery.'
'How do you mean - slithery?'
'Well, slithery, sort of. I was feeling my way in here in the dark, and there was something somewhere making a kind of rustling, slithery noise. Just the sort of noise a ghost would make,' s
aid Soapy, speaking as one who knew ghosts and their habits.
'Simply your imagination.'
'You think so?'
'Sure. You're all worked up, baby, and you imagine things.'
'Well, if you say so,' said Soapy dubiously. 'It's all this darkness that gets you down. Beats me why a burglar doesn't go off his nut, having to go through this sort of thing night after night. It would reduce me to a nervous wreck. Could I use a drink!'
'Well, there's prob'ly something in the kitchen. Take the torch and go look.'
'Won't you mind being alone in the dark, pettie?'
'Who - me? Don't make me laugh! Matter of fact, I guess it 'ud be safe enough to switch the lights on, if we draw the curtains. And I'll open the window a couple of inches at the bottom. Sort of close in here. If you find anything, bring three glasses.'
'Three?'
'Just in case Chimp blows in.'
'Oughtn't we to be moving out?'
'Not me! I want to see Chimp's face.'
To anyone acquainted with Chimp Twist this might have seemed a bizarre, even morbid, desire, but Soapy followed her train of thought. He chuckled.
'He'll be sore!'
'He'll be as sore as all get-out. Get moving, sweetie. Let's have some service.'
When Soapy returned, bearing glasses and the bottle of champagne which Sally had been at such pains to buy for Leila Yorke's dinner, he found his wife looking thoughtful.
'Shall I tell you something, Soapy?'
'What, honey?'
'There is a slithery noise. I heard it. Like you said, sort of rustling. Oh, well, I guess it's just a draught or something.'
'Could be,' said Soapy, doubtfully, and would have spoken further, but before he could do so speech froze on his lips.
The front door bell was ringing.
23
THE sound affected both the Molloys unpleasantly, throwing an instant damper on what had looked like being a good party. Soapy, surprisingly agile for a man of his build, executed something resembling the entrechat to which ballet dancers are so addicted, while Dolly, drawing her breath in with a sharp hiss, sprang to the switch and turned off the lights. They stood congealed in the darkness, and not even a distinct repetition of the slithery sound which had alarmed him a few minutes before was able to divert Soapy's attention from this ringing in the night. He clutched the champagne bottle in a feverish grip.