Georgette Heyer - Bodies from the Library

He lit the cigarette, smiling.

‘Do you? I only smoke these. Sometimes, but very rarely, a cigar.’

‘Of course, I really prefer a pipe to anything,’ Linckes remarked.

Winthrop shook his head.

‘Can’t rise to that. I think they’re ghastly things. Look here! Have I told you enough? I mean, ask me any question you like.’

‘I think I’ve got enough to keep me occupied for a few days, thanks. I’ll be getting along now, if you don’t mind.’ He rose and held out his hand.

Winthrop jumped up.

‘Right-ho! And try your damnedest, Won’t you? We’re trying to keep a brave front. But—well, it’s serious. Just as serious as it can be. And until the mystery is solved Caryu and the rest of us are in a pretty sultry position. And—and it happens to mean rather a lot, to me especially, to have the thing cleared up.’

‘You may be quite sure that I shall do my best,’ Linckes told him. He gripped Winthrop’s hand, and as he did so the door opened.

‘ Charlie, it really is too bad of you!’ chided an amused voice. ‘I suppose you’ve quite forgotten that you asked me to lunch with you at the Berkeley? Oh, I beg your pardon! I’d no idea you were engaged. Daddy, he’s deep in business.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t burst in on him in that unceremonious way,’ answered Caryu. He came leisurely into the room and cast a quick glance at Linckes. ‘Sorry to intrude like this, Charles. Autonia’s fault!’

‘How was I to know that he was engaged?’ demanded Miss Caryu aggrievedly. She sauntered forward, bowing to Linckes.

‘I’m not engaged, I’m sorry to say,’ retorted Winthrop. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, Tony, honestly. I was detained, but I was just coming. Caryu, may I introduce Mr Linckes?’

Linckes found himself the object of a keen scrutiny.

‘Very pleased to meet you!’ said Caryu, and shook hands. ‘You’re not Tom Linckes’ son, by any chance?’

‘Yes, I am, sir. Do you know him?’

‘Very well. We were at college together. Hope you’ll be able to help us in this business.’

Tony, who had just seated herself on the table, looked up.

‘Oh, are you the new detective, Mr Linckes?’ she asked interestedly.

‘Autonia!’

‘Well, all right, daddy. You can’t help my knowing. How do you do?’

She extended a small gloved hand to Linckes, who took it, and stammered something that seemed to him inane.

‘I hope you’ll solve the mystery,’ Tony said. ‘You don’t look frightfully Sherlock Holmes-y, you know!’

She smiled mischievously. It was then that Linckes’ heart changed hands.

Then he took his leave of them and went out, all thoughts obscured for the moment by the picture of Miss Autonia Caryu sitting on a table with her slim ankles crossed, and a friendly smile on her beautiful red lips.

Nearly three months slipped by, and found Linckes disgruntled. Caryu had been very kind to him. So, too, had Caryu’s daughter.

He was a little puzzled by Winthrop. He had been drawn to him from the very first, but he was at a loss to understand his moods. One day Sir Charles would be flippant and gay, the next irritable and restless; he was sometimes most inconsequent and absent-minded. Yet with all this nervous temperament he was undoubtedly clever, always charming, and an eminently responsible person. Once Linckes spoke tentatively to Tony about him, and the girl had laughed.

‘Oh, Charlie’s an extraordinary man!’ she had said. ‘A perfect darling, but quite mad! They think an awful lot of him at the War House, you know. Under that flippant manner of his there’s heaps and heaps of brain. Everybody loves him, but he’s a dreadful trial!’

‘A trial?’ had asked Linckes. ‘Why?’

‘Well, he’s so—so moody. And he will forget things. Sometimes he’ll say a thing to me and contradict it within an hour. When I tease him about it, he just laughs and says, “Oh, did I? That was just hot air, then.” It’s a pose, I think. He used not to do it so much.’

Linckes eyes narrowed.

‘Funny! Doesn’t seem quite to fit in with his reputation, somehow.’

‘That’s why I say it’s a pose,’ Tony had answered triumphantly. ‘’Cos really he’s a most capable person. Daddy says he’s got a huge grip on affairs. And—and now this beastly traitor business has cropped up, and if you can’t solve the mystery it means Charlie and daddy’ll be under a sort of cloud, and it’s—it’s such a shame ! I mean, everyone who knows Charlie knows that he’s such a—such a splendid man! Why, look at the things he did during the war! Daddy says he was simply wonderful! Mr Linckes, please do try and solve the mystery! I’d—I’d like to put the man who did the thing in boiling oil! I would !’

‘Of course I’m going to try my hardest to get to the bottom of it all,’ Linckes said. He tried to speak carelessly. ‘I—I suppose you’re awfully fond of Sir Charles?’

At that Tony had opened her eyes wide.

‘Well, naturally. He’s like a dear elder brother, and I’ve known him ever since I was a kid.’

Linckes’ depressed spirits suddenly soared high. A little colour stole up to the roots of his brown hair.

‘You bet I’ll never rest till I’ve found the man who’s doing the dirty on us all!’ he said impulsively. ‘Would you—er—Would you be pleased if I discovered who it is, Miss Caryu?’

Tony had become suddenly interested in her shoe-buckles.

‘I—I hope you’ll do the deed, certainly,’ she answered.

Linckes took his courage in both hands.

‘I mean to. And—and if I do succeed I’m going to ask you a question, Tony.’

‘Oh—oh, are you?’ had said Tony in a small voice.

Not many days after his conversation with Tony, Linckes presented himself at Winthrop’s house, with nothing at all to report. He found Sir Charles writing at his desk. He barely looked up at Linckes’ entry, and the detective knew that one of his black moods was upon him.

‘Oh, hallo!’ said Sir Charles. ‘Sit down! Any news?’

‘Not much. The butler is now wiped off the list of possibles.’

‘Well, I never thought he was a possible.’ Winthrop pushed his chair back impetuously. ‘I’m dead sick of the whole business! The wretched culprit, whoever he is, is just one too many for us.’

‘I’m dashed if he is!’ Winthrop’s ill-humour seemed to react on Linckes. ‘Hang it all, he must give himself away some time!’

‘Why? He hasn’t done it so far.’

‘Pretty soon he’ll be trying to bring off another little coup,’ said Linckes savagely, ‘and then I’ll get him!’

‘Hope you will, that’s all I can say. Help yourself to a cigarette.’

Winthrop pushed the box across to Linckes, taking out a cigarette himself. He lit it, and began to smoke in silence.

Linckes glanced at him idly, and suddenly a furrow appeared between his brows. It struck him that Winthrop was smoking in a curious way, rather as though he were puffing at a pipe. Usually he inhaled with almost every breath, sending the smoke out through his delicately chiselled nostrils.

‘If I didn’t know you loathed pipes, I should say you were in the habit of smoking one,’ remarked Linckes.

The dark eyes looked an inquiry.

‘You’re treating that unfortunate cigarette as though it were one,’ Linckes explained.

Winthrop laughed, throwing the cigarette into the fire.

‘Am I? Well, I’m worried. I suppose it’s a nervous trick. I feel inclined to do something desperate. If only there were a clue!’

Linckes sighed.

‘It’s all so hazy,’ he complained. ‘You can’t even know for certain that the plans of the submarines were sold. You, can’t prove it.’