Patricia Wentworth - Out of the Past

Frank Abbott felt some regret at having missed the interview. It might have brightened the official round, and would certainly have proved a good deal more entertaining than the affair of the grocer’s teeth in the Notting Hill murder case.

Lamb drummed on his desk.

“To start with, there wasn’t any evidence to show that Felipy ever set foot in this country. Hosy says he had a very particular reason for coming over, and if he didn’t come one way he’d have come another. Says he thinks he’d have come by plane. Well, if he did, it wasn’t under his own name. And I don’t mind saying I thought the whole thing was a lot of fuss about nothing. If this chap had slipped in under an alias he’d want to keep quiet. In fact Hosy might have wanted to see Felipy, but Felipy mightn’t have been so keen on seeing Hosy. People don’t always want to meet their relations.”

“They do not-and with reason.”

Lamb frowned.

“Well, that was a week ago. I told him how many people disappear every year, and that about three quarters of them turned up again.”

Frank cocked an eyebrow.

“I can’t make out why you were seeing him at all, sir.”

Lamb jerked open a drawer, looked for something that hadn’t ever been there, and shut it again with some force.

“Oh, he came along with an introduction. You know the sort of thing-Sir Somebody Something in the South American business line who wants to oblige Signor Somebody Else who doesn’t mind putting in a word for Hosy who is some kind of an agent of his. As I say, I told him his brother would probably turn up, and no call to think anything had happened to him. He waved his hands a lot and talked nineteen to the dozen about his brother being murdered, and went away.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t be talking to you about it if it was. He’s been here again. This time he says he’s found his brother.”

Frank began to say something and stopped.

“Picked up out of the river.”

“Dead?”

“Quite a time. We’d passed on Felipy’s description, and he was sent for to identify the body. He says it’s his brother all right, and he swears he’s been murdered. The post mortem shows a blow on the back of the head. Well, it might have been accidental, or it mightn’t. You can go down and look into it.”

Going in through the Annings’ front door at ten o’clock that night, Alan Field encountered Darsie coming out of her office. He smiled and said,

“Punctual to the moment, you see.”

The smile met with no response. She said, “Thank you. Goodnight,” and turned back into the little room. She went across to the bookcase and appeared to be selecting a novel.

Alan’s smile deepened as he followed her, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t I get a few kind words?”

She turned round, her face quite blank.

“I haven’t got anything to say to you, and you know it. You are only here because-”

He broke in with a laugh.

“Because I pointed out that it would make a good deal of talk if you turned me away. The house isn’t full, and it would certainly give Esther and all the rest of them up at Cliff Edge something to think about if you refused a nice eligible boarder like me!”

“That is why you are here. It is the only reason. I have nothing to say to you. Goodnight.”

She walked past him, turned the key in the front door lock, shot the bolt, and went on up the wide, easy stair without looking back. It gave him a good deal of amusement to reflect that he had made her take him in, and that she was hating every minute of it. How stupid women were. All this time gone by, and she couldn’t even pretend she didn’t care!

He slept soundly, and woke with pleasant anticipations. Esther would pay up, and so would Adela when it came to the pinch-he had no real doubt about it. And there was Pippa-he was going to enjoy dealing with Pippa. She didn’t like him much, and she had never been at pains to hide it. She was going to pay for that.

By ten o’clock he was asking the late Octavius Hardwick’s elderly butler for Mrs. Field and being informed that she was in the morning-room. It was the place to which she had taken him yesterday, and gloomier than ever. The mist which would presently melt into heat had not yet cleared. It hung before the windows.

Esther looked up from a small writing-table of the same black wood as the hideous overmantel. She did not refuse his affectionate kiss, but she did not respond to it. Her eyelids were pink and swollen.

He took her hand and put it to his lips.

“My dear, you’ve been crying.”

“Yes-”

“I haven’t been very happy myself. You looked wretched last night, and I felt it was all my fault. But there isn’t any need-there really isn’t. Everything can be arranged. Suppose we talk it over a little.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down, whilst she watched him between hope and doubt.

“You won’t publish those letters?”

“Darling, do you suppose I want to? It’s just that I’ve got to have the money. If there is any other way of getting it, I’ll be only too thankful. You don’t suppose I want to upset you, do you? We can have a comfortable talk and settle the whole thing provided you are willing.”

He saw the tears come up in her eyes and went on in a hurry.

“Now, my dear, I don’t want you to say anything-I just want you to listen. It was all very sketchy yesterday, and I think perhaps you got a wrong impression of what I was asking you to do. To begin with, there isn’t any question of your parting with capital-I know you’ve got strict views about that-because I’m really only asking for a loan. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite frank with you last night. The whole thing is very confidential, and if the least word of it got out, we should be sunk. So I employed a little camouflage. But thinking it over in the night-I couldn’t sleep, you know, so there was plenty of time-I realized that I had no right to keep you in the dark.”

Esther’s soft brown eyes remained fixed upon his face. He certainly had her attention. What he would have liked to know was whether he had her belief. He wasn’t so sure. He made haste to go on.

“That story I told you about Cardozo wanting to buy a horse ranch-”

“It’s not true?”

He laughed.

“Only partly. He does want to buy a ranch, and he will probably want me to come in with him, but-well, he hasn’t got the money. Or at least-look here, I’m going to tell you the whole thing, only it’s a top number one secret. You mustn’t breathe a word to a soul-you’ll see why in a minute. Here it comes. Somewhere back in the last century a relation of Cardozo’s, a great-uncle or something, came by a considerable treasure-and it’s no good asking me how, because Felipe is rather inclined to draw a veil over that part of it. There was quite a lot of stuff buried up and down the coast and islands of the Spanish Main in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and a good deal of it has never been found. My guess is that old Cardozo tumbled on a cache. He had his own reasons for keeping quiet about it. He got the stuff away anyhow, and he got it to Rio. And a week later he was picked up with a knife between his shoulders in a back street. And that was that. His affairs were in a bad way. His house was sold to pay his debts, and there wasn’t very much left. His next of kin was a young nephew. When he came of age, the family lawyer handed him a sealed envelope which had been deposited with the firm only a day or two before his uncle’s death. It told young Cardozo about the treasure and where it was hidden.”

Esther Field was remembering all the stories she had ever heard about buried treasure, from the romantic kind over which she had pored in youth, to the more sordid variety which cropped up every now and then in the police court or the newspapers, hand to hand, so to speak, with the gold brick and the confidence trick. Her feelings must have shown in her face.