Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

Later, Benton came out of Blanche’s room. Julie, who was in the kitchen, heard him walk down the passage, pause, and then retrace his steps. He came into the kitchen, closed the door gently.

Julie set her back against the table and faced him.

‘Is there anything you want?’ she asked coldly.

‘Want?’ he repeated, raised his pale eyebrows. ‘Yes... there was something. I wanted to speak to you.’

She waited, hostile and nervous.

Watching her closely, he took out his wallet, dipped into it with finicky fingers and drew out a five-pound note.

‘Yes,’ he said, folding the note into a fine spill, ‘there was something.’ He tapped the spill on his knuckles and grimaced at her. ‘You are Mrs. Wesley’s personal maid. You may hear and see things that are no concern of yours. A personal maid doesn’t tell tales. Do you understand?’

Julie flushed scarlet.

‘I don’t need to be told that by you or anyone else!’ she blurted out furiously.

Again the pale eyebrows went up.

‘Please don’t be angry. Mrs Wesley can be very difficult. It’s seldom she keeps a maid longer than a week or so. I find it embarrassing. It is time, I feel, that I should establish a business association with her maid — with you. Do you follow what I am driving at?’ He handed the five-pound note to her.

For a moment Julie hesitated. She was in the game for what she could get out of it, wasn’t she? If this pale creature wanted to bribe her, why not take it? Five pounds! Perhaps he would give her more later. But she had to steel herself to meet the amber-coloured eyes when she said, ‘I think so.’

‘Ah. I thought I hadn’t misjudged you. You see, there are certain things I shouldn’t like Mr. Wesley to know about.’ The grimace became strained. ‘He is blind, and blind people are very sensitive — and suspicious. I wouldn’t like to hurt his feelings.’

‘I understand,’ Julie said, and felt a little sick.

‘So long as you see and hear nothing that goes on in this flat we’ll get along well together,’ Benton continued. ‘For instance, I haven’t been here this morning. Do you understand?’

Julie nodded.

‘And I think we’d better keep this little arrangement to ourselves. Mrs. Wesley mightn’t like it.’

Again Julie nodded.

‘Splendid.’ He stood over her, very tall, smelling of lavender water and cigars. He slipped the note into her hand and patted her arm. It was more of a caress than a pat and his touch made Julie shiver. She tried to draw back, but she was already pressed against the table and he hemmed her in. For a horrible moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. He moved away, showed his teeth as he opened the door. ‘There’s more where that came from, Julie. See nothing; hear nothing. It’s simple, isn’t it?’ He went out and as he closed the door Blanche’s bell rang.

When Julie entered Blanche’s room she noticed immediately that the cupboard that had been hidden by the quilted wall stood open. Inside the steel-lined recess, lit by two powerful electric lights, were several fur coats, hanging in a row. Julie, who loved fur and had spent many hours staring enviously at the fur displays in the West End, longing to own a fur herself, recognized them. There was a chinchilla, a mink, a beaver, a sable, a white fox and an ermine. The other side of the cupboard was given up to a steel chest of drawers in which Julie guessed Blanche kept her jewellery.

Blanche was sitting at her dressing-table, rolling on gossamer-like stockings. She glanced up, saw Julie’s staring eyes, followed their direction and smiled.

‘That’s something every burglar in London is talking about,’ she said, with an arrogant movement of her head. ‘No one could ever break in there, Julie. It’s the most perfect foolproof safe ever invented. My husband designed it. I believe as many as six burglars — or is it eight? — I can’t remember, but a number of them have tried to break into that safe. We’ve caught every one of them. They don’t try any more. They know it’s hopeless. Anyone tampering with it in any way causes a bell to ring in the Kensington police station and along comes the Flying Squad in two minutes.’

‘So this is what Harry is interested in,’ Julie thought. ‘What a lesson it’d be for this little beast if she does lose her furs.’

Blanche was saying, ‘Only Mr. Wesley and myself know the combination and where the locks are concealed.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you, madam?’ Julie said, deliberately changing the subject. She didn’t want Blanche to think she was in any way interested in the safe.

‘I’m going away for the week-end. Mr. Wesley won’t be back until Monday. I want you to pack. Here’s a list of things I’ll take with me. I’ve jotted them down for you.’

Expecting a repetition of her last packing experience, Julie took the list and began to lay out the clothes Blanche had chosen. Even when she had packed and Blanche showed no inclination to have the suitcases unpacked, she still waited for Blanche to begin her baiting, but she didn’t. She seemed occupied with her thoughts and, as she dressed, she hummed under her breath and seemed scarcely aware that Julie was in the room.

Suddenly she said: ‘What will you do over the week-end, Julie?’

‘I... I don’t know, madam,’ Julie returned, not expecting this.

‘Well, you mustn’t be idle. You’ll find plenty of sewing to do and you’d better clean the silver. Do make yourself useful and don’t let me have to tell you what to do. There are the flowers, and my shoes want attention and — oh, there’s plenty to do if you look around.’

‘Yes, madam,’ Julie said.

‘You can go out on Sunday, but I don’t want this flat left empty at night. You understand that? And for goodness’ sake don’t bring any strange men in here. I know what you girls are like. The porter knows you are here alone and he’ll keep an eye on you.’

Julie, flushed and furious, turned away.

‘Now don’t get into a pet,’ Blanche said, frowning. ‘I’m not saying you’d do it, but I want you to know it’s something I just won’t have. Come here, Julie.’

Julie went up to her, her face sullen and rebellious.

‘What a pretty figure you have, and what lovely skin.’ Blanche’s fingers, like dry little sticks, touched Julie’s cheek and Julie, shuddering, started back. ‘You mustn’t be afraid of me,’ Blanche said, her eyes lighting up. ‘You’re not, are you?’

‘No madam,’ Julie said uneasily.

‘That’s right,’ Blanche laughed. ‘It’s so silly, but some people do seem afraid of me. I try to be kind to everyone. Of course, I do play practical jokes, but that’s only my fun.’ She was now watching Julie closely. ‘Did the old man in the cupboard frighten you?’

‘Not very much,’ Julie said indifferently.

‘Didn’t he?’ The forget-me-not blue eyes hardened. ‘The other maid had hysterics. It was too funny. And the snake? Didn’t that startle you—’ She laughed gleefully. ‘The snake’s my favourite joke. My husband loathes it. I put it in his bed sometimes.’

Julie turned away. She didn’t want Blanche to see the hatred she felt for her, nor the longing she was sure showed plainly in her face to lay hands on her and shake her.

‘Do you like furs, Julie?’ Blanche asked abruptly as she put the finishing touches to her make-up.

‘You’re not going to catch me with that trick again,’ Julie thought, said, ‘Yes, madam, I suppose I do.’

‘Well, look at mine. Touch them, Julie. I want you to like them.’

Julie didn’t move.

‘Thank you, madam, but I’m not interested in other people’s furs.’

‘Oh, nonsense,’ Blanche said with a gay laugh. ‘Look at them. There’s no woman alive who wouldn’t give her eyes to possess them. That mink cost five thousand and the white Arctic fox... I wouldn’t like to tell you what that cost. Go in and look at them.’