Money in the Bank (7 page)

"I'm not telling this story very well, am I?" she said. "The word 'it' refers to a small packet of extremely valuable diamonds representing the combined Uffenham and Benedick fortunes. My uncle hid them somewhere on the premises of Shipley Hall, and now hasn't the slightest recollection where."

Inside the spacious cupboard, Chimp Twist, for all that he realised the imperative need of keeping his presence undetected, found it impossible to repress a startled snort. The thought of diamonds lying around loose in a country house—a country house, moreover, in which were established those old allies of his, Mr. and Mrs. Soapy Molloy, was one that spoke to his very depths. If this was not money in the bank, he did not know such money when he saw it. So he snorted.

Fortunately for his aims and objects, Jeff had snorted simultaneously on his own account, and with such abandon that the Twist contribution passed unnoticed. The idea did, indeed, cross Lord Uffenham's mind that there was a curious echo in the room and set him musing dreamily on acoustics, but that was all.

"That surprises you?"

"It does."

"It surprised me, too, when he told me. I had always known that he had an original mind, but I hadn't been prepared for that."

Jeff had recovered somewhat. He was even able, though a little feebly, to place the tips of his fingers together again.

"Let me get this clear," he said. "He put the entire family funds into diamonds?"

"Yes."

"And hid them?"

"Yes."

"And then forgot where?"

"Yes "

"Like a dog with a bone?"

"Exactly like a dog with a bone."

"Yes," said Jeff, expelling a deep breath. "'Original' is correct. No need to consult the Thesaurus. You've got the right word."

"You see," said Anne. "I told you it would make you look a chump. Mr. Adair is stunned."

As far as such an action was within the scope of a man weighing two hundred and sixty pounds, Lord Uffenham bridled.

"I refuse to admit," he said stiffly, "that it makes me look any such dashed thing. My motives, as I told you before, were fundamentally sound. Lord-love-a-duck, what's wrong with diamonds ? One of the few good investments left in a world where everything else seems to be going to hell. It was only after considerable thought, after I had been shocked by the fall in value of some dashed railway shares to about half the value of waste paper, that I faced the problem squarely and made my decision."

"Oh, there was a certain amount of method in your madness, I suppose."

"What d'yer mean, madness?"

"There always is, bless him," proceeded Anne, addressing Jeff with the air of an indulgent parent discussing the eccentricities of a favourite child. "When he explains any of these weird doings of his, you find yourself nodding appreciatively and feeling that he has taken the only possible course."

"Diamonds are always diamonds," said Jeff, for the defence.

"Not if you can't find them."

"It's nice, of course, to be able to find them."

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark, un-fathomed caves of ocean bear, and a lot of good they are to a hard-up old peer of the realm and his impoverished niece. This also applies to gems which may or may not be stuffed up the chimney in the second housemaid's bedroom."

"I don't think they are there," said Lord Uffenham, having considered the suggestion.

"They may be."

"True."

"You haven't the slightest notion where they are."

"At the moment, no. I keep getting what seem to be encouraging gleams of light, but they haven't led anywhere."

Jeff touched on a point which, he felt, would not have escaped the attention of Sheringham Adair.

"Why didn't you put these diamonds in a safe deposit vault?"

"I don't believe in safe deposit vaults."

"Ask him why he didn't buy a safe of his own?" said Anne.

"Why didn't you buy a safe of your own?" enquired Jeff obediently.

"I don't---"

"—believe in safes."

"Well, I don't," said Lord Uffenham, stoutly. "A safe simply affords an indication to a burglar where to start looking. It gives the foul feller a sort of official assurance that if he is prepared to take a little trouble, he will find something to his advantage."

"You are a deep reasoner, Lord Uffenham."

"Always have been."

"Doesn't he remind you a little," said Anne, with a niece's candour, "of the White Knight in
Alice Through The Looking Glass?
When he passes into those trances of his, I always feel that he's thinking of a way ... I forget how it goes, but a way of doing something or other quite different from anything anybody else would have thought of. Safe deposit vaults? No. He doesn't believe in them. Safes? Not for the Last of the Uffenhams. Coal scuttles, yes."

"Coal scuttles?"

"He tells me he once hid them in the drawing-room coal scuttle. He used to think of a different place every night."

"It amused me," said Lord Uffenham. "I found it an entertaining test of my ingenuity."

"Which, of course, has rather complicated things. His memory has got back to what you might call the fitful stage, and he keeps remembering clever places he once thought of. And then he goes and rummages there. So now you will understand how all this anti-Cakebread feeling started. Every time he rummages, somebody always comes in while he is half-way through. You can see what he's like—rather a large man—tall, broad, lots of firm flesh. If you come into a room where he is hunting for diamonds, you can't miss him."

Jeff nodded. He quite saw how the other would catch the eye.

"Very embarrassing."

"Most."

"And how did you—er—get this way, Lord Uffenham?'*

"Mr. Adair means," interpreted Anne, "how did you lose your memory? You tell him. I want to see if it sounds as funny as it did when you told me."

Lord Uffenham exhibited a certain testiness.

"You will exaggerate so, my dear. There's no question of my having
lost
my memory. All that's happened is that it's a bit uncertain for the time being, owing to that motor accident of mine."

"You aren't telling it nearly as well this time, darling. My Lord Uffenham," explained Anne, "is a man who will never just accept conventions. He likes to brood over them and examine them, and if they seem to him unreasonable, he takes a resolute stand against them. He was driving on the right of the road, taking a resolute stand against the English convention of driving on the left, and an orthodox thinker in a lorry came round the corner. When they let Uncle George out of the hospital, the places where the stitches had been were healing up nicely, bat his memory was a blank. The doctors said it was a most interesting case. They loved it."

"It was a happy thought of yours, considering Lord Uffenham's views, to install him in the house as a butler, and not a chauffeur."

"Yes. Though I'm afraid he's not very pleased."

"I am not," said Lord Uffenham decidedly. The subject was evidently one to which he had devoted much brooding thought. "I hate cleaning silver. I dislike waiving at table. It irks me to be thrust continually into the society of a cook who insists on telling me about the state of her inside, going into a wealth of detail which is quite uncalled for. And I particularly resent having to answer to the name of Cakebread."

"Tell me," said Jeff, "did it take you long, thinking up that name?"

"Oh, no," said Anne. "It came in a flash."

"You are a very exceptional girl."

"Thank you. With quite a fairly exceptional uncle, don't you think? Well, will you help us?"

"Of course."

"It will make all the difference in the world. I mean, nobody can object to a detective nosing about. It's what he's there for. Uncle George can give you his selections for the day, and you can try them out. Sooner or later, we're bound to strike oil."

"The mere process of elimination."

"Exactly. There's just one thing. I'm afraid you won't enjoy being at Shipley. The place is run on the strictest vegetarian lines."

"This is grave news."

"Mrs. Cork is a fanatic on the subject. In the course of a recent expedition into Africa, she was greatly struck by the glowing health and simple, unspoiled outlook of a tribe called the Ugubus, who, except for an occasional missionary at Christmas, live entirely on fruit and vegetables. She took Shipley with the idea of making it a sort of nucleus or cell for propagating the Ugubu doctrines throughout England. The programme calls for high thinking, tribal dances and, above all, vegetarianism. I just want you to know what you are letting yourself in for."

"No exception is made in the case of visiting detectives?"

"Of course not. Naturally, you will have to pretend to be an ordinary member of the colony, so as to deceive Cakebread."

" I see. Still, you will be there."

"Yes, I shall be there."

"Then say no more."

"Well, that's fine. And, anyway, if you find it getting too much for you, you can always drop in on Uncle George in his pantry, and he will give you a glass of port."

Jeff cast a grateful eye at this lifesaver.

"Will he?"

"Certainly," said Lord Uffenham. "The cellar's full, and it all belongs to me. Swill till your eyes bubble."

"What a disgusting idea," said Anne. "I'm sure Mr. Adair is most abstemious."

"Mr. Adair," Jeff pointed out, "has never been tried as high as he seems likely to be at Shipley Hall."

Anne rose.

"Then the only thing we haven't settled is when you are to come."

"When would you like me to come?"

"Mrs. Cork spoke of my bringing you back in the car."

"Excellent."

"But there won't be room. She didn't know I was going to have Uncle George aboard. How long will it take you to pack?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Then there's a good train you can catch quite easily. Are you going to your club, Uncle George?"

" Yerss. I thought I might look in."

"Well, I can give you half an hour. I want to go and see Lionel. I'll call for you."

It was not for Jeff to comment on this desire of hers to visit male acquaintances, but he had a distinct feeling that for the first time a jarring note had been struck. Then, for he was a fair-minded young man, he decided that he need not make too much of the matter. A girl like this would obviously not be lacking in male acquaintances. His task must be to make it clear to her—taking his time over it, of course, and not alarming her by too instant a display of the Miller fire and impetuosity—that these Lionels and what not were a very poor lot compared with some of the men she had met more recently.

"Good-bye," he said, pressing her hand with respectful tenderness.

"Good-bye, Mr. Adair. And thank you for helping us."

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity of helping you," said Jeff.

She hurried out, and Jeff, turning to bid farewell to Lord Uffenham, found that mountainous individual regarding him with an unwinking stare.

"Ha!" said Lord Uffenham. "Ha! Hey, what?"

Jeff inclined his head in courteous interrogation. Lord Uffenham jerked a thumb at the door through which Anne had passed.

"In love with her, ain't yer, hey?"

The question was so sudden and unexpected that Jeff found himself answering with the automatic candour of a hypnotised subject on a platform.

"Yes," he said.

"Thought as much," said Lord Uffenham. "Stuck out a mile. She's like me, that girl."

"Er—in what way?" asked Jeff, who had not been struck by any resemblance.

"No woman has ever been able to resist me," said Lord Uffenham modestly, "and no young feller I've ever seen has been able to resist her."

He navigated laboriously through the door, to reappear like the Cheshire Cat and fix Jeff with that tense, unblinking stare.

"Well, wish yer luck," he said, and disappeared again, this time permanently. And Jeff, after a few moments of profound meditation, made his way slowly down the stairs and went back to Halsey Chambers.

Some minutes later, when it had become absolutely clear to him that he had the office to himself, Chimp Twist emerged from the cupboard, gave his moustache a thoughtful twirl and sat down at the desk to smoke a cigarette.

His brain was working briskly.

CHAPTER VII

Anne Benedick had been waiting in the hall of Lord Uffenham’s club some ten minutes before his lordship finally appeared, descending the broad staircase with one hand glued to the arm of a worried-looking Bishop, with whom he was discussing Supralapsarianism. At the sight of Anne, he relaxed his grip, and the Bishop shot gratefully off in the direction of the Silence Room. Lord Uffenham eyed his niece with a guilty sheepishness which he endeavoured to conceal beneath a bluff exterior.

"Hullo, my dear. Just arrived, hey? Capital. Late, ain't yer?"

"No, I am not late," said Anne, with the severity which she was so often called upon to employ in her dealings with the head of the family. "And I have not just arrived. They took my name up to you a quarter of an hour ago."

"So they did, so they did. I remember now. I was showing some of the boys a trick with matches, and lost track of the time. I'll fetch my hat."

"You've got it on."

"Have I? Then let's go."

"We'd better. I shall have to drive with terrific speed, if I'm to get you back before you're missed."

"Didn't I tell you it was my afternoon out?"

"No, you didn't. Do you mean you've let me fret myself to a shadow, when all the time I needn't have worried?"

"It's this memory of mine. Very uncertain it has become in many respects."

They made their way to where the two-seater stood, and Anne moved back to allow her companion to enter. There had been a time when, sharing a car with him, she would have taken her seat first, but a few experiences of having the vehicle play cup-and-ball with her under the impact of that enormous mass had taught her prudence. It was Lord Uffenham's practice, when he intended to sit, to hover poised for a moment and then, relaxing limply, to come down with a bump, like an avalanche.