Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

“From you, Wiley,” she smiled, “they will not be improper.”

Harvey made a talkative recovery, and Robin removed the stitches gravely on the sixth day.

“That seems to have healed very cleanly, Mr. Metcalfe. Take it easy, and you should be back to normal by the middle of next week.”

“Great. I have to get over to England right away for Ascot week. You know, my horse Rosalie is favorite this year. I suppose you can’t join me as my guest? What if I have a relapse?”

Robin suppressed a smile.

“Don’t worry. You’re getting along fine. Sorry I can’t stay to see how Rosalie performs at Ascot.”

“So am I, Doc. Thanks again, anyway. I’ve never met a surgeon like you before.”

And you’re not likely to again, thought Robin, his American accent beginning to fray at the edges. He bid his adieus to Harvey with relief and to Angeline with regret, and sent the chauffeur back from the hotel with a copperplate bill:

Dr. Wiley Franklin Barker

presents his Compliments to

Mr. Harvey Metcalfe

and begs to inform him that the Bill for

Professional Services rendered is

$80,000

in respect of surgery and postoperative treatment.

The chauffeur was back within the hour with a cash check for $80,000. Robin bore it back to London in triumph.

Two down and two to go.

Chapter Thirteen

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Friday, Stephen sat on Robin’s examination couch in Harley Street and addressed the troops.

“The Monte Carlo operation was a total success in every way, thanks to Robin keeping his cool. The expenses were fairly high, though. The hospital and hotel bills totaled $11,351, while we received $80,000. Therefore, we’ve had $527,560 returned to us, and expenses so far have come to $22,530, which leaves Mr. Metcalfe still in debt to the tune of $494,970. Does everyone agree with that?”

There was a general murmur of approval. Their confidence in Stephen’s arithmetic was unbounded, although in fact, like all algebraists, he found working with figures somewhat tedious.

“Incidentally, Robin, however did you manage to spend $73.50 on dinner last Wednesday night? What did you have, caviar and champagne?”

“Something a little out of the ordinary,” admitted Robin. “It seemed to be called for at the time.”

“I’d bet more than I laid out in Monte Carlo that I know who joined you for dinner, and I bet she shared more than a table with you too,” said Jean-Pierre, taking his wallet out of his pocket. “Here you are, Stephen, 219 francs—my winnings from the Casino on Wednesday night. If you’d left me alone in peace, we needn’t have bothered with Robin’s butchery. I could have won the whole amount back on my own. I think the least I deserve is Nurse Faubert’s telephone number.”

Jean-Pierre’s remarks went straight over Stephen’s head.

“Well done, Jean-Pierre, it’ll all come off expenses. At today’s exchange rate, your 219 francs,” he paused for a moment and tapped out on his calculator, “is worth $46.76. That brings the expenses down to $22,483.24.

“Now, my plans for Ascot are simple. James has acquired two badges for the Members’ Enclosure at a cost of $10. We know that Harvey Metcalfe also has a badge, as all owners do, so as long as we get our timing right and make it look natural, he should once again fall into our trap. James will keep us briefed on the walkie-talkie and will follow the movements of Metcalfe from his arrival to his leaving. Jean-Pierre will wait by the entrance of the Members’ Enclosure and follow him in. Robin will send the telegram from Heathrow Airport at 1 P.M., so Harvey ought to receive it during lunch in his private box. That part of the plan is easy. It’s if we manage to lure him to Oxford that we all have to be on our toes. I must confess, it’d make a pl

easant change if Ascot were to work first time.”

Stephen grinned widely.

“That would give us much needed extra time to go over the Oxford plan again. Any questions?”