“Talking of Cootes, Sir Oswald plays a fair game—a very fair game. Not a pretty style—too stiff. But straight down the middle every time. But curious how the cloven hoof shows—won’t give you a six inch putt! Makes you put it in every time. Now I don’t like that.”
“I suppose he’s a man who likes to be sure,” said Bundle.
“It’s contrary to the spirit of the game,” said her father. “And he’s not interested in the theory of the thing either. Now, that secretary chap, Bateman, is quite different. It’s the theory interests him. I was slicing badly with my spoon; and he said it all came from too much right arm; and he evolved a very interesting theory. It’s all left arm in golf—the left arm is the arm that counts. He says he plays tennis left-handed but golf with ordinary clubs because there his superiority with the left arm tells.”
“And did he play very marvellously?” inquired Bundle.
“No, he didn’t,” confessed Lord Caterham. “But then he may have been off his game. I see the theory all right and I think there’s a lot in it. Ah! Did you see that one, Bundle? Right over the rhododendrons. A perfect shot. Ah! If one could be sure of doing that every time—Yes, Tredwell, what is it?”
Tredwell addressed Bundle.
“Mr. Thesiger would like to speak to you on the telephone, my lady.”
Bundle set off at full speed for the house, yelling “Loraine, Loraine,” as she did so. Loraine joined her just as she was lifting the receiver.
“Hallo, is that you, Jimmy?”
“Hallo. How are you?”
“Very fit, but a bit bored.”
“How’s Loraine?”
“She’s all right. She’s here. Do you want to speak to her?”
“In a minute. I’ve got a lot to say. To begin with, I’m going down to the Cootes for the weekend,” he said significantly. “Now, look here, Bundle, you don’t know how one gets hold of skeleton keys, do you?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. Is it really necessary to take skeleton keys to the Cootes?”
“Well, I had a sort of idea they’d come in handy. You don’t know the sort of shop one gets them at?”
“What you want is a kindly burglar friend to show you the ropes.”
“I do, Bundle, I do. And unfortunately I haven’t got one. I thought perhaps your bright brain might grapple successfully with the problem. But I suppose I shall have to fall back upon Stevens as usual. He’ll be getting some funny ideas in his head soon about me—first a bluenosed automatic—and now skeleton keys. He’ll think I’ve joined the criminal classes.”
“Jimmy?” said Bundle.
“Yes?”
“Look here—be careful, won’t you? I mean if Sir Oswald finds you nosing around with skeleton keys—well, I should think he could be very unpleasant when he likes.”
“Young man of pleasing appearance in the dock! All right, I’ll be careful. Pongo’s the fellow I’m really frightened of. He sneaks around so on those flat feet of his. You never hear him coming. And he always did have a genius for poking his nose in where he wasn’t wanted. But trust to the boy hero.”
“Well, I wish Loraine and I were going to be there to look after you.”
“Thank you, nurse. As a matter of fact, though, I have a scheme.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you and Loraine might have a convenient car breakdown near Letherbury tomorrow morning? It’s not so very far from you, is it?”
“Forty miles. That’s nothing.”
“I thought it wouldn’t be—to you! Don’t kill Loraine though. I’m rather fond of Loraine. All right, then—somewhere round about quarter to half past twelve.”
“So that they invite us to lunch?”
“That’s the idea. I say, Bundle, I ran into that girl Socks yesterday, and what do you think—Terence O’Rourke is going to be down there this weekend!”
“Jimmy, do you think he—?”
“Well—suspect everyone, you know. That’s what they say. He’s a wild lad, and daring as they make them. I wouldn’t put it past him to run a secret society. He and the Countess might be in this together. He was out in Hungary last year.”
“But he could pinch the formula any time.”
“That’s just what he couldn’t. He’d have to do it under circumstances where he couldn’t be suspected. But the retreat up the ivy and into his own bed—well, that would be rather neat. Now for instructions. After a few polite nothings to Lady Coote, you and Loraine are to get hold of Pongo and O’Rourke by hook or by crook and keep them occupied till lunch time. See? It oughtn’t to be difficult for a couple of beautiful girls like you.”
“You’re using the best butter, I see.”
“A plain statement of fact.”
“Well, at any rate, your instructions are duly noted. Do you want to talk to Loraine now?”
Bundle passed over the receiver and tactfully left the room.
Twenty-seven
NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
Jimmy Thesiger arrived at Letherbury on a sunny autumn afternoon and was greeted affectionately by Lady Coote and with cold dislike by Sir Oswald. Aware of the keen matchmaking eye of Lady Coote upon him, Jimmy took pains to make himself extremely agreeable to Socks Daventry.
O’Rourke was there in excellent spirits. He was inclined to be official and secretive about the mysterious events at the Abbey, about which Socks catechized him freely, but his official reticence took a novel form . . . namely that of embroidering the tale of events in such a fantastic manner that nobody could possibly guess what the truth might have been.
“Four masked men with revolvers? Is that really so?” demanded Socks severely.
“Ah! I’m remembering now that there was the round half-dozen of them to hold me down and force the stuff down my throat. Sure, and I thought it was poison, and I done for entirely.”
“And what was stolen, or what did they try and steal?”
“What else but the crown jewels of Russia that were brought to Mr. Lomax secretly to deposit in the Bank of England.”
“What a bloody liar you are,” said Socks without emotion.
“A liar, I? And the jewels brought over by aeroplane with my best friend as pilot. This is secret history I’m telling you, Socks. Will you ask Jimmy Thesiger there if you
don’t believe me. Not that I’d be putting any trust in what he’d say.”
“Is it true,” said Socks, “that George Lomax came down without his false teeth? That’s what I want to know.”
“There were two revolvers,” said Lady Coote. “Nasty things. I saw them myself. It’s a wonder this poor boy wasn’t killed.”
“Oh, I was born to be hanged,” said Jimmy.
“I hear that there was a Russian countess there of subtle beauty,” said Socks. “And that she vamped Bill.”
“Some of the things she said about Buda Pesth were too dreadful,” said Lady Coote. “I shall never forget them. Oswald, we must send a subscription.”
Sir Oswald grunted.
“I’ll make a note of it, Lady Coote,” said Rupert Bateman.
“Thank you, Mr. Bateman. I feel one ought to do something as a thank offering. I can’t imagine how Sir Oswald escaped being shot—letting alone die of pneumonia.”
“Don’t be foolish, Maria,” said Sir Oswald.
“I’ve always had a horror of cat burglars,” said Lady Coote.
“Think of having the luck to meet one face to face. How thrilling!” murmured Socks.
“Don’t you believe it,” said Jimmy. “It’s damned painful.” And he patted his right arm gingerly.
“How is the poor arm?” inquired Lady Coote.
“Oh, pretty well all right now. But it’s been the most confounded nuisance having to do everything with the left hand. I’m no good whatever with it.”
“Every child should be brought up to be ambidexterous,” said Sir Oswald.
“Oh!” said Socks, somewhat out of her depth. “Is that like seals?”
“Not amphibious,” said Mr. Bateman. “Ambidexterous means using either hand equally well.”
“Oh!” said Socks, looking at Sir Oswald with respect. “Can you?”
“Certainly; I can write with either hand.”
“But not with both at once?”
“That would not be practical,” said Sir Oswald shortly.
“No,” said Socks thoughtfully. “I suppose that would be a bit too subtle.”