Isaac Asimov - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 73, No. 3. Whole No. 424, March 1979

“Great! Scoop up the money and keep playing. I have to go chat with this man.” He slipped the check into his wallet and followed Felix Poland to a lounge area at the end of the room.

It was only eight o’clock, but Nick already knew it would be a profitable evening.

Actually, their luck had been running well since Nick and Gloria arrived in London three days earlier. It was a vacation for them — replacing the dampness of January in Westchester with the dampness of January in London — and Nick had no thought of doing any work. But the weather on their arrival was unusually good, almost balmy, and their good fortune was compounded at the hotel which discovered it had no double room reserved for them and promptly put them in a three-room suite for the same price.

Nick had been to London before and he enjoyed showing Gloria the sights, especially places like Buckingham Palace and the Regents Park Zoo which had figured in a previous adventure. They’d registered at some of the casinos when they arrived, and observed the two-day waiting period before being allowed to gamble. Finally this was their first gambling night, and judging by the unexpected check from Felix Poland their lucky streak was continuing.

“How do you know my name?” Nick asked when he and Poland were settled at a corner table in the lounge.

“I have contacts around London. Someone told me you were here and you’re just the man I need.” He sipped his drink and added, “The check is quite good, in the event you’re wondering.”

“That’s my usual fee, as you must know,” Nick said. “The only thing untouched by inflation. But I steal only the valueless — never money or jewels or art treasures.”

“Exactly. And are you available tonight?”

“What do you want stolen?”

“Yesterday’s newspaper. The London Free Press, to be exact.”

“Certainly a valueless item,” Nick agreed. “I’d suggest searching through some of the rubbish barrels around town.”

“I believe the one I need is at the home of Hope Trennis, the actress. Certainly if anyone has one, she has. She’s throwing a party tonight and I was invited weeks ago. You and your lady can be my guests.”

“Wouldn’t she be suspicious?”

“No, no, the party’s to view her film ‘100 Minutes’ on BBC television tonight. I distributed the film to British theaters last year and she’d expect me to bring guests. She’ll be pleased to see fellow Americans — a great deal more pleased than she’ll be to see me, really. Our relations aren’t too cordial these days.”

“But you’re still going to her party?”

“As I said, I was invited weeks ago, before our falling out.”

“Just where is the newspaper?”

“No idea. Somewhere in the house. In her study safe, if she hasn’t already destroyed it.”

“Why is it so valuable?”

“It wouldn’t be, to anyone but me.”

“You’re telling me that a copy of yesterday’s newspaper is valuable to you only, and that it’s in the possession of Hope Trennis and nobody else?”

“There might be a few other copies around, but I’m sure hers would be the easiest to find.”

“Very well,” Nick agreed. “When do we leave?”

Felix Poland glanced at his watch. “We should be getting along.”

Nick went back to the roulette table where he found Gloria with a new stack of winnings. “This is our lucky night, Nicky!”

“It certainly is. We’re invited to a party.” He started to gather up the chips. “Let’s turn these in.”

“Do we have to?”

“We’ll come back tomorrow. This party might be fun. There’ll be some movie people there.”

“Like who?” she asked suspiciously.

“Hope Trennis, the actress. It’s at her place.”

Gloria’s eyes widened. “Really?”

As Nick cashed in the chips he hoped their luck would hold through the night.

Hope Trennis’ home was an exquisite townhouse within sight of Belgrave Square — the sort with a fireplace in every room and a cluster of quaint chimneys on the roof. Though Hope was an American actress she had resided in London for well over a year — ever since she finished filming the highly successful “100 Minutes.” Nick was hardly a movie fan but he had seen that one, a suspenseful chase film in which the entire action took place during the one-hundred-minute running time of the picture itself. Now, about a year after its London theatrical release, the film was being shown by BBC television.

“It’s generally the type of thing the commercial channel would carry,” Poland explained as they entered the house to be met by a uniformed butler. “But with Hope living here now, she managed to have it shown this once without interruptions.”

Nick and Gloria handed their coats to the butler. “Look at this place, Nicky!” Gloria squealed. “It’s like a palace!”

Nick, who had seen the inside of Buckingham Palace, was less overwhelmed. Still, he had to admit the lady had taste. He was staring up at the multi-tiered chandelier when Hope Trennis herself appeared, sweeping down on them in a cloud of pink chiffon. “You must be one of the BBC gentlemen,” she greeted Nick. “So good of you to come.”

“Actually, I’m—”

“He’s a friend from America,” Felix Poland explained. “Nick Velvet. And this is his wife Gloria.”

Gloria was used to that introduction by now and she didn’t change expression. She was too busy bathing in the vision of Hope Trennis from three feet away. Nick had to admit she was a lovely woman — perhaps a bit older-looking than on the screen, but every bit as charming. Even when she turned to Poland with a brusque “I didn’t expect to see you here,” there was no noticeable bitterness in her words. Whatever had passed between them would not be allowed to ruffle her composure this night.

“Am I still invited?” Poland asked her with a smile.

“Of course. Come in and have a drink before the film gets under way. I promise not to poison you.”

He shot her a look of anger, but she’d already turned away. They followed her into a large living room where perhaps 30 people were chatting in small groups while a maid passed a tray of drinks in the best tradition. “This is really living,” Gloria whispered.

Nick felt a bit like the society thief in those old Raffles books. Glancing at the necklaces and diamond rings adorning the women, he had to remind himself that he’d come to steal nothing more valuable than yesterday’s newspaper.

Hope Trennis led them to a slender man wearing mod glasses and dark hair long enough to cover his ears. “This is my friend Eric Noble from the BBC. You know Felix, Eric, and this is Nick Velvet and his wife Gloria, over from America.”

They shook hands all around and Hope flew off to greet more late arrivals. “Your first visit here?” Noble asked Nick. No doubt it was his stock conversation gambit with visiting Americans.

“No, I was over in ’71.” Nick lit one of the infrequent cigarettes he’d been indulging in during their vacation, ignoring Gloria’s pained expression.

“You’ll find some things changed since then.” Noble motioned toward the color television set. “I suppose you’ve already seen the film?”

Nick nodded. “We caught it back in the States.”

“I’m a big fan of Hope’s,” Gloria added.

Nick left her to converse with Eric Noble while he took Poland to one side. “Where should I look first? You mentioned a safe in the study. Or should I check the dustbins first?”

His client snorted. “Picking up our British phrases so quickly, Velvet? No, it’s more likely in the safe, or somewhere else in her study. I’m sure she was sent one yesterday morning by a columnist on the paper, and I don’t think she would have destroyed it so soon. Be careful, though. If she discovers you’re after it, she could burn it quickly enough.”