Complete works of peter.., p.240
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 240
She said coldly: "Possibly, Mr. Callaghan, you can imagine that I didn't want to talk to you about the evening."
"No?" said Callaghan. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Three hundred pounds," she said. She smiled cynically. "I've always been led to believe that private detectives are rather strange people," she went on, "but I couldn't imagine even a private detective having the effrontery to do what you did."
Callaghan knocked the ash off his cigarette. He said slowly:
"You mean taking that three hundred pounds from you to keep out of this case and then going on with the job?"
"That is what I mean," she said.
Callaghan said: "Miss Vendayne, I think you're stupid. Whatever personal opinion you may have of private detectives they're usually considered to be intelligent. You must admit it was particularly stupid of you to try and bribe me to keep out of this investigation."
He drew a mouthful of smoke down into his lungs and exhaled it slowly through one nostril. He continued:
"Quite obviously if a private detective wasn't straight, he'd do what I did—keep the money and still go on with the job." He grinned. "After all, I was paid £250 yesterday by your father's lawyers. If on the other hand the detective was an honest man; supposing—if such a thing were possible—and he wanted to do a straight job of work, then his best plan would be to play you along to find out just why you wanted him to lay off the case. You couldn't squeal anyway."
Her eyes flashed. She said:
"I told you my reasons for not wanting you here."
"Maybe," said Callaghan. He was smiling. "A lot of people tell me things, but I don't have to believe them."
She looked at him. Her eyes were wide with amazement.
"Mr. Callaghan," she said, "are you trying to tell me that I'm a liar?"
"No," said Callaghan. "I'm not trying to tell you anything, but I'm going to state some facts to you, and you can think 'em out. When you rang my office the night before last and made that appointment to meet me at the Ventura Club, I wondered why."
He paused.
She said: "How very interesting."
Callaghan grinned.
"I'm going to be still more interesting," he said. "I'll tell you why you did it. You had a reason for making that appointment to meet me at the Ventura Club, the reason being that before you saw me you wanted to see Gabby Ventura. You thought it would be a good thing to have a little ammunition to bribe me with if necessary."
Callaghan stopped talking. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and looked at her. One corner of his mouth was wreathed in a cynical smile.
"Well?" he queried.
She said nothing. He continued:
"You got to the Ventura Club early and you borrowed £300 from Gabby Ventura. Then you waited outside till I came along.
"Strangely enough," said Callaghan, "I went back to the club later. I wanted to see Lancelot. I got into a little poker game with Lancelot and Gabby and another man. I lost some money, and I paid my losses with one of the fifty pound notes that you gave me."
Callaghan's grin broadened.
"Yesterday morning," he went on, "Gabby Ventura came round to my office trying to find out where I got the note from. He said he'd lent somebody some money the night before. Naturally he was very interested to know just how and why that fifty pound note had got into my hands."
Callaghan's grin altered. It became almost angelic.
"And you don't like being called a liar, do you, Miss Vendayne?" he concluded.
She stood looking out over the terraces. She said nothing. Callaghan stubbed out his cigarette and lit another.
"The joke is," he said, "I don't really disbelieve you. Immediately I saw your father I could understand any daughter wanting to save him any trouble. He's a sick man. All I say is that your technique wasn't too clever. If I were you I'd remember in the future that even if you think private detectives are dishonest as a tribe they're seldom unintelligent. At least this one isn't."
She said: "Mr. Callaghan, why should you believe that I am interested in anything you think?"
"That's just another bluff," said Callaghan. "You're fearfully interested in what I think, and I know it. The trouble is that you're one of those people who've still got to learn that honesty is the best policy."
His smile showed his white teeth. He said:
"I'll make a little bet with you. Before we're through on this job, you'll tell me what's on your mind."
"Really," she said sarcastically. "And, of course, you know why I shall do that."
"I can make a good guess," said Callaghan. "Believe it or not I can be quite useful when people are in tight corners, and I've got an idea you're in one."
She turned on her heel and disappeared through the french windows.
Callaghan walked down the terrace smoking, appreciating the evening air.
IV. — THREE'S A PARTY
SOMEWHERE in the Manor House a clock struck eleven. Callaghan thought that the chimes, brassy and resonant, possessed an almost antique note that might well be associated with a headless ghost that wandered playfully about the dark, oaken corridors.
He lay stretched out on the four-poster bed in his room, looking at the ceiling, wondering why he disliked oak panelling even when it was relieved by tastefully selected chintzes.
After a moment he concluded that he was not really thinking about panelling or chintz; that his mind was concerned with Audrey Vendayne.
After all, you've got to know a man like Gabby fairly well to borrow three hundred pounds... if you are a woman.
He got up, switched on the light, straightened his tie. He went over to the corner cupboard and took out a bottle of rye whisky and a glass. He drank five fingers of neat whisky, lit a cigarette and went downstairs.
When he reached the big hallway he began to cough. He coughed for some time. Then he replaced the cigarette in his mouth and walked towards the doorway.
Behind him, in the main passage, a door opened. Audrey Vendayne's voice said: "Oh, Mr. Callaghan."
Callaghan turned. He was smiling cheerfully. He said:
"Hallo... Miss Vendayne. It seems to be a nice night. I thought I'd go and look at it. Will you come too?"
She said shortly: "No thank you."
She walked towards him and stopped when she was a foot or two away from him.
Callaghan was thinking to himself. "She doesn't like me a bit. And she isn't quite certain why. She's wondering just how crooked I am and just how much she can play me along. She's fed up to the back teeth about that three hundred..."
He grinned amiably at her.
She said: "I've been talking to my father. We've come to a conclusion. It should interest you."
Callaghan said nothing.
"I think, and my father agrees with me, that in the circumstances we ought to postpone the claim against the Sphere & International Company. It's quite obvious from their attitude that they think there's something wrong with the claim. Or alternatively the police have not had time to find the culprits. We propose to give them more time. If they fail we can always claim when the position is more definite."
Callaghan said: "It would be a good idea if it worked."
"What would be a good idea, Mr. Callaghan?" she asked.
His smile was beatific.
"It would be a good idea if I fell for that line of talk and allowed the Major to fall for it," he said. "If I fell for it I'd pack my bags and get out because there wouldn't be anything or me to do here. Well... I'm not going to do that. I'm going to stay here until such time as I get my hands on something tangible... that is if I haven't got something tangible now..."
She turned away with an angry gesture and moved towards the staircase. She stopped with her foot on the first stair and half turned. Callaghan liked the pose. He thought that she had quite delightful ankles, that her frock hung gracefully, that the poise of her head was as it should be. He noticed that, under the hall light, her hair had auburn tints.
She said: "You're really an impossible person, aren't you?"
"Maybe," said Callaghan. "But the best thing you can do is to stand for my being impossible, otherwise I'm going to tell the Major that you went dashing up to town for the express purpose of touching one of the lousiest night club proprietors in London for three hundred pounds to buy me off with, only a few hours after your own lawyers had put me in on this business. I don't think you'd like that."
She smiled. There was a great deal of dislike in her smile.
"Perhaps I shouldn't," she said. "Any more than you would like my father to know that having accepted the case you took the money from me and kept it."
He grinned at her.
"And you're going to tell him, I suppose?" he asked. "Sticking to that three hundred was about the safest thing I ever did in my life. You just can't do anything about it. It's one of those things you have to stand for and like."
She took her foot off the stair and faced him. Her face was flushed. She said, controlling her voice:
"I suppose it's part of the technique of a private detective to be as gratuitously insolent as possible."
There was a world of contempt in her voice.
"That is fairly right," said Callaghan very cheerfully. He drew some smoke down into his lungs and began to cough. "It's these damned cigarettes," he explained. "I smoke 'em all the time and I've a permanent smoker's cough."
She said: "Am I supposed to be interested?"
He grinned at her.
"I forgot—you wouldn't be, of course," he said. "And about being insolent, I've found it's not a bad thing. It gets a reaction sometimes. People are more inclined to tell the truth when they're in a bad temper. Besides which I like looking at you when you're in a temper. It suits you."
She said sarcastically: "You're fearfully clever, aren't you? Quite a psychologist. I suppose you know everything there is to be known..."
"I wouldn't say that," said Callaghan. "I just know a little. But I know one thing."
He exhaled cigarette smoke slowly.
"To-morrow," he went on, "your father and you and I are going to have a show-down. I'm going to tell you one or two things that might be good for you to hear. Or perhaps you'd rather I had the conversation with you?"
Her expression altered. She said quickly:
"I've told you that my father is a sick man. Naturally, I'd do anything to save him trouble..."
"Rubbish," said Callaghan amiably. "What you really mean is you're afraid of a show-down. I suppose you've made a fool out of the old boy and you think I might have guessed how you've done it."
She caught her breath. It was almost a gasp of rage. She said in a low voice:
"There are moments when I think I could quite easily kill you. I think you are easily the most loathable person I've ever met..."
Callaghan said: "Well, that's something. I never mind what a woman feels so long as she's not quite disinterested."
She turned quickly and began to walk up the stairs. Callaghan watched her. Every movement spoke of the rage that possessed her.
Somewhere down the passage a telephone bell jangled. After a moment Stevens appeared. He said:
"Mr. Nikolls is on the telephone, sir. He wants to speak to you."
Callaghan walked down the passage to the alcove where the telephone stood. He took up the receiver. Stevens disappeared.
Nikolls said: "Slim, have a good laugh. Esme dropped me at Kingsbridge. I thought you could push a car along but that baby's drivin' is an eye-opener. I'm surprised I'm still in one piece."
Callaghan said: "Well... ?"
"She dropped me and went off on the Totnes Road," Nikolls continued. "I got the car out of the garage and went after her. I had an idea that maybe she was goin' to that Yard Arm dump I told you about. Well, the hunch was right. She's there now. So's Clarissa. Their cars are both parked behind the place."
Callaghan asked: "Is it still open?"
Nikolls said: "No. But here's the funny thing. I stuck around outside behind a hedge. When the place closed down Esme and Clarissa went out the back with a guy. They walked across a little orchard an' went into some other place—a fairly large sorta cottage at the back. I stuck around for a bit to see if they'd come out, but they didn't. So I tried something. I went up to the back door and knocked. Some guy opened the door, not the guy who the girls had gone in with. I asked him for some water for the car. When he went to get it he switched the light on an' I nearly had a fit. Who d'you think the baby was?"
Callaghan said: "What am I supposed to do—have three guesses?"
"Sorry," said Nikolls. "Well, you remember that boyo who was doorman on that dive of Ventura's, the Backstairs Club, in Soho—Ropey Felliner? Well, it was him. Was I surprised?"
"I bet you were," said Callaghan. "Did he recognise you?"
"He did not," answered Nikolls. "I kept away back in the dark."
"Where are you speaking from?" Callaghan asked.
"I'm in an A.A. box away down the road," Nikolls replied. "About half a mile from the Yard Arm."
Callaghan said: "I'm coming along. I think it's time something happened. If it doesn't, we'll make it. I'll be with you as soon as I can."
"O.K.," said Nikolls. "I'll just stick around an' look at the moon. I'm feelin' poetic to-night, anyway."
Callaghan hung up. He went up to his room and got an overcoat. He rang the bell, came downstairs and met Stevens in the hall.
He said: "Stevens, I may be a little late to-night. Have you a spare key?"
"Yes, sir," said the butler. "I'll go and get it."
Callaghan walked up and down the hall waiting for Stevens to come back. He looked contented. He was intrigued by Nikoll's news that Ropey Felliner was at the cottage behind the Yard Arm. He wondered why.
Stevens came back with the key. As he gave it to Callaghan he said:
"I hope things are going all right, sir, and I hope I'm not too curious, but have you got any idea yet, sir? We are naturally very interested."
Callaghan grinned.
"I've practically got the criminal, Stevens," he said. "I think I know who stole the Vendayne jewellery."
The butler's eyes widened.
"My God, Mr. Callaghan, he said. "Who was it, sir?"
"Santa Claus," said Callaghan, as he went out.
The moon was full. The road in front of the Jaguar was like a grey ribbon. Nikolls came out of the darkness of the hedge and stood in the midde of the road. He got on the running board of the car. He said:
"I got the bus parked in a field three or four hundred yards down the road on the right. The gate's open. How about you parkin' in there, too?"
Callaghan let in the clutch. He drove down the road, through the open gate. He parked the car beside Nikolls's. He said:
"Where's this cottage, Windy?"
"About sixty or seventy yards down the road," Nikolls answered. "On the left is the Yard Arm. There's a sign outside. Just past it is a pathway leading through an orchard. The cottage is on the other side."
Callaghan said: "All right. You'd better look at the moon some more."
He began to walk down the road.
He passed the Yard Arm, found the little pathway running behind it, began to walk across the orchard. He was thinking it was a lovely night and wondering about Felliner. Just in front of him, almost hidden by the trees, was the cottage. It was a large two-storied affair formed, evidently, of two or three cottages knocked into one. The little lawn and the white palings that surrounded it were well kept, and the windows carefully blacked-out. Callaghan pushed open the gate, walked up the short path and knocked on the door. He stood there, looking at the glowing end of his cigarette. After a minute the door opened.
Callaghan, looking past the man who stood in the doorway, could see that the hall of the cottage was luxuriously carpeted, well-furnished. Then he looked at the man. He was about thirty-five years of age; had very sleek black wavy hair, a face that was almost too good-looking, a decided jaw. He was tanned. Callaghan's eyes, straying from the man's face to the side of the cottage doorway, noticed the plate that bore the name of the place. On it was the word: "MALMESBURY."
He said: "My name's Callaghan. I'm staying at Margraud Manor. I understand that Clarissa and Esme Vendayne are here."
The man said: "Yes?"
"He raised his eyebrows. The tone of his voice was half inquiring, half insolent. Callaghan went on:
"I don't think the Major's very well," he said, lying easily. "Miss Vendayne's a little bit perturbed about him. She thinks the girls ought to go home."
The other said: "How did you know they were here?"
Callaghan said: "That's my business."
The man in the doorway shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, if you want to be rude..." he said.
"I don't want to be rude," said Callaghan, "but why shouldn't anybody know where they were. Or is it a secret?"
The man stood back. Callaghan noticed he was fairly tall and muscular, that he moved easily.
He said: "There isn't any secrecy. Perhaps I sounded a little short. Come in. My name's Blaize."
"I'm glad to meet you," said Callaghan.
He stepped into the hallway. Blaize closed the door behind him. Esme came out of the door on the other side of the hall. She turned her head and spoke into the room behind her.
"My God," she said. "It's Mr. Callaghan. I'm thrilled. He's a fast worker, isn't he?" She said to Callaghan: "Don't tell me you couldn't wait till to-morrow to question me."
Clarissa came out from the room. She stood behind Esme. Esme murmured:
"Well, three's a party—sometimes. But I rather think that four's a crowd."
Callaghan said: "I think so too." He went on: "Miss Vendayne asked me to come over and say that she was worried about the Major. She thinks maybe he's going to have one of his attacks. She thought you might like to go back."
Esme's face became serious.
"Oh, dear," she said, "Come on, Clarissa, we'd better go. Good-night, Willie."
She walked straight past Blaize, out of the cottage. Close behind her came Clarissa. She stopped as she reached Callaghan. She said:
