Iris Murdoch - Under the Net

'Not if I can help it!' I exclaimed, and made for the exit.

'An entertaining story,' said the Cavalier. 'I applaud your decision.'

What was my decision? There were no two ways about it. I must try to get back my typescript at once. To do this would be to defend my own interests, and to defend Hugo's, and, what mattered most, to do down Sadie and Sammy. That would be striking a blow for Madge too. Where was the typescript? At Sammy's flat. Where was Sammy's flat? The universal provider of information to which I had applied before told me that Sammy lived in Chelsea. It was clear that I should have to work fast. I must get hold of the typescript before this H. K. could see it. The way Sadie had referred to it suggested that it had not yet been copied. Sammy had implied that he would not be visiting his flat until the evening. He had said that it was probably empty. I rang Sammy's number and got no reply. Then I decided that I badly needed Finn.

I rang Dave's number and after some delay Finn answered, sounding rather dazed. I told him that I was glad he hadn't been drowned, and that I wanted him to come and join me as soon as he could. When he knew it was me he cursed me for a long time in Gaelic, and said that he'd been asleep. I congratulated him, and asked how soon he could get along. At last after much grumbling he said he would come to meet me in the King's Road, and there about three-quarters of an hour later we duly met. The time was then about twenty to three.

I had taken the precaution of asking Finn to bring with him an implement which we called the Master Key, which was a lock-picking tool of simple style which we had designed together on scientific principles. You may think it odd that two ordinary law-abiding citizens like myself and Finn should have troubled to provide ourselves with such an article. But we have found by experience that there are a surprising number of occasions in a society such as ours when simply in defence of one's own rights, as in the present case, one needs to get through a locked door to which one possesses no key. And after all, one may even find oneself locked out of one's house, and one can't call the Fire Brigade every time.

We telephoned again to make sure the flat was empty; and then as we walked along the road I told Finn the outline of the story. He found this so interesting that he quite got over his bad temper. It was clear, however, that he still had a dreadful hangover. He had the slightly squinting look which he gets with a hangover, and kept shaking his head as he went along. I have often asked Finn why he shakes his bead when he has a hangover, and he tells me that it's to make the spots move away from in front of his eyes. It surprises me when Finn, with all his Irish training, stands up to a drinking bout less well than I do; though on this occasion it was possible that although, like the Walrus, I had got all I could, Finn had in fact, like the Carpenter, got hold of more. He has an almost psychic capacity for finding drink at all hours. Whatever the reason, he was in bad shape, while I was by now feeling fine, only a little bit weak in the stomach.

I wasn't at all sure how easy it would prove to get into Sammy's flat. Sammy was the sort of person who might easily have installed a special lock, or worse still a burglar alarm. He lived, moreover, in one of those enormous blocks of service flats, where it was possible that we might be interfered with in our work by the porter or some other busybody. When we reached the block I sent Finn round to the other side of the building to see if he could find a tradesmen's entrance, in case we were disturbed, while I walked in the front way, keeping an eye lifting for porters. We met outside Sammy's door, which was on the fourth floor. Finn said there was a decent quiet tradesmen's entrance. I told him I had seen only one porter, who sat in a glass cage near the main door and didn't look as if he was likely to move. Finn whipped out the Master Key, while I kept watch at the end of the corridor. In a minute or two Sammy's door was opening quietly and we both went in.

We found ourselves in a wide hallway. Sammy had one of the large corner flats. We tried a door, which led into the kitchen.

'We'll concentrate on the living-room and on his bedroom,' I said.

'Here's his bedroom,' said Finn, and started opening drawers. He lifts and replaces objects with the speed and dexterity of a factory hand on piece work; and as he puts it himself, divil a one would know that it was other than the spring breeze had touched their things. We were both gloved, of course. I watched him for a moment, and then I made for what I took to be the main living-room. The door opened right enough into a large corner room, with windows on both sides. But what I saw as I opened the door made me stop dead in my tracks.

I looked at it for a while, and then I called to Finn, 'Come and have a look at this!'

He joined me. 'Mother of God!' he said.

Right in the middle of the room was a shining aluminium cage, a bola three feet tall and five feet square. Inside the cage, growling softly and fixing us with a nervous bright eye, was a very large black-and-tan Alsatian dog.

'Can it get out?' said Finn.

I approached the cage, and as I did so the animal growled more loudly, wagging its tail vigorously at the same time in the ambiguous way dogs have.

'Be careful with the brute!' said Finn, who doesn't care for dogs. 'It'll be springing out on you.'

I studied the cage. 'It can't get out,' I said.

'Well, thank God,' said Finn, who once this was clear seemed to have no further interest in the phenomenon. 'Don't be teasing it now,' he added, 'or it'll set up a howl will bring the cops on to us.'

I looked at the animal curiously; it had a kind intelligent face, and in spite of its growls it seemed to be smiling.

'Hello,' I said, and thrust my hand through the bars, whereon it became silent and licked me prodigiously. I began stroking its long nose.

'And don't be acting the maggot with it either,' said Finn; 'we haven't got all day.'

I knew that we hadn't got all day. Finn went back to Sammy's bedroom and I began to study the living-room. I was very anxious indeed to find the typescript. I kept pausing to imagine with delight Sammy's fury on finding that it was gone. I ransacked Sammy's bureau and a chest of drawers. Then I searched through a cupboard on the landing. I looked in suitcases, and brief-cases, and under cushions and behind books, and even went through the pockets of all Sammy's coats. I came upon various interesting objects, but not the typescript. There was no sign of the thing. Finn had drawn a blank too. We searched the other rooms, but without much hope, as they looked as if they were very little used.

'Where the hell else can we look?' asked Finn.

'I'm sure he's got a secret safe,' I said. The fact that the bureau was unlocked suggested this. If I knew my Sammy, he was a man with plenty to hide.

'Well, if he has it'll do us no good finding it,' said Finn, 'for we'll not be able to open it.'

I feared he was right. But we scoured the house again, tapping the floorboards, and looking behind pictures, and making sure that there was no drawer or cupboard which we had missed.

'Come on,' said Finn, 'let you and I be making tracks.' We had been there nearly three-quarters of an hour.

I stood in the living-room cursing. 'The bloody thing must be in some place,' I said.

'True for you!' said Finn, 'and it'll likely stay in that place.' He pointed to the dial of his watch.

The dog had been watching us all the time, its bushy tail sweeping to and fro against the bars. 'A fine watch-dog you are!' Finn told it.

The roof of the cage, which like its floor was made of solid aluminium, was pitched high enough to let the beast stand upright, but not high enough for it to prick its ears when standing up.