‘Certainly.’
A certain frostiness in the atmosphere seemed to penetrate Madeleine’s consciousness. She murmured something about changing for tea and left them.
‘Detestable creatures these modern girls are,’ said Mrs Wade. ‘Not an idea in their heads.’
‘She’s got one idea in hers, Iris,’ said Mrs Massington. ‘That girl’s in love with Reggie.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘She is. I saw the way she looked at him just now. She doesn’t care a pin whether he’s married or not. She means to have him. Disgusting, I call it.’
Mrs Wade was silent a moment, then she laughed uncertainly. ‘After all,’ she said, ‘what does it matter?’
Presently Mrs Wade, too, went upstairs. Her husband was in his dressing-room changing. He was singing.
‘Enjoyed yourself, dear?’ said Mrs Wade.
‘Oh, er–rather, yes.’
‘I’m glad. I want you to be happy.’
‘Yes, rather.’
Acting a part was not Reggie Wade’s strong point, but as it happened, the acute embarrassment occasioned by his fancying he was doing so did just as well. He avoided his wife’s eye and jumped when she spoke to him. He felt ashamed; hated the farce of it all. Nothing could have produced a better effect. He was the picture of conscious guilt.
‘How long have you known her?’ asked Mrs Wade suddenly.
‘Er–who?’
‘Miss de Sara, of course.’
‘Well, I don’t quite know. I mean–oh, some time.’
‘Really? You never mentioned her.’
‘Didn’t I? I suppose I forgot.’
‘Forgot indeed!’ said Mrs Wade. She departed with a whisk of mauve draperies.
After tea Mr Wade showed Miss de Sara the rose garden. They walked across the lawn conscious of two pairs of eyes raking their backs.
‘Look here.’ Safe out of sight in the rose garden Mr Wade unburdened himself. ‘Look here, I think we’ll have to give this up. My wife looked at me just now as though she hated me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Madeleine. ‘It’s quite all right.’
‘Do you think so? I mean, I don’t want to put her against me. She said several nasty things at tea.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Madeleine. ‘You’re doing splendidly.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes.’ In a lower voice she went on: ‘Your wife is walking round the corner of the terrace. She wants to see what we’re doing. You’d better kiss me.’
‘Oh!’ said Mr Wade nervously. ‘Must I? I mean–’
‘Kiss me!’ said Madeleine fiercely.
Mr Wade kissed her. Any lack of élan in the performance was remedied by Madeleine. She flung her arms around him. Mr Wade staggered.
‘Oh!’ he said.
‘Did you hate it very much?’ said Madeleine.
‘No, of course not,’ said Mr Wade gallantly. ‘It–it just took me by surprise.’ He added wistfully: ‘Have we been in the rose garden long enough, do you think?’
‘I think so,’ said Madeleine. ‘We’ve put in a bit of good work here.’
They returned to the lawn. Mrs Massington informed them that Mrs Wade had gone to lie down.
Later, Mr Wade joined Madeleine with a perturbed face.
‘She’s in an awful state–hysterics.’
‘Good.’
‘She saw me kissing you.’
‘Well, we meant her to.’
‘I know, but I couldn’t say that, could I? I didn’t know what to say. I said it had just–just–well, happened.’
‘Excellent.’
‘She said you were scheming to marry me and that you were no better than you should be. That upset me–it seemed such awfully rough luck on you. I mean, when you’re just doing a job. I said that I had the utmost respect for you and that what she said wasn’t true at all, and I’m afraid I got angry when she went on about it.’
‘Magnificent!’
‘And then she told me to go away. She doesn’t ever want to speak to me again. She talked of packing up and leaving.’ His face was dismayed.
Madeleine smiled. ‘I’ll tell you the answer to that one. Tell her that you’ll be the one to go; that you’ll pack up and clear out to town.’
‘But I don’t want to!’
‘That’s all right. You won’t have to. Your wife would hate to think of you amusing yourself in London.’
IV
The following morning Reggie Wade had a fresh bulletin to impart.
‘She says she’s been thinking that it isn’t fair for her to go away when she agreed to stay six months. But she says that as I have my friends down here she doesn’t see why she shouldn’t have hers. She is asking Sinclair Jordan.’
‘Is he the one?’
‘Yes, and I’m damned if I’ll have him in my house!’
‘You must,’ said Madeleine. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll attend to him. Say that on thinking things over you have no objection and that you know she won’t mind you asking me to stay on, too.’
‘Oh dear!’ sighed Mr Wade.
‘Now don’t lose heart,’ said Madeleine. ‘Everything is going splendidly. Another fortnight–and all your troubles will be over.’
‘A fortnight? Do you really think so?’ demanded Mr Wade.
‘Think so? I’m sure of it,’ said Madeleine.
V
A week later Madeleine de Sara entered Mr Parker Pyne’s office and sank wearily into a chair.
‘Enter the Queen of the Vamps,’ said Mr Parker Pyne, smiling.
‘Vamps!’ said Madeleine. She gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’ve never had such uphill work being a vamp. That man is obsessed by his wife! It’s a disease.’
Mr Parker Pyne smiled. ‘Yes, indeed. Well, in one way it made our task easier. It is not every man, my dear Madeleine, whom I would expose to your fascination so lightheartedly.’
The girl laughed. ‘If you knew the difficulty I had to make him even kiss me as though he liked it!’
‘A novel experience for you, my dear. Well, is your task accomplished?’
‘Yes, I think all is well. We had a tremendous scene last night. Let me see, my last report was three days ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, as I told you, I only had to look at that miserable worm, Sinclair Jordan, once. He was all over me–especially as he thought from my clothes that I had money. Mrs Wade was furious, of course. Here were both her men dancing attendance on me. I soon showed where my preference lay. I made fun of Sinclair Jordan, to his face and to her. I laughed at his clothes, and at the length of his hair. I pointed out that he had knock knees.’
‘Excellent technique,’ said Mr Parker Pyne appreciatively.
‘Everything boiled up last night. Mrs Wade came out in the open. She accused me of breaking up her home. Reggie Wade mentioned the little matter of Sinclair Jordan. She said that that was only the result of her unhappiness and loneliness. She had noticed her husband’s abstraction for some time, but had no idea as to the cause of it. She said they had always been ideally happy, that she adored him and he knew it, and that she wanted him and only him.
‘I said it was too late for that. Mr Wade followed his instructions splendidly. He said he didn’t give a damn! He was going to marry me! Mrs Wade could have her Sinclair as soon as she pleased. There was no reason why the divorce proceedings shouldn’t be started at once; waiting six months was absurd.
‘Within a few days, he said, she should have the necessary evidence and could instruct her solicitors. He said he couldn’t live without me. Then Mrs Wade clutched her chest and talked about her weak heart and had to be given brandy. He didn’t weaken. He went up to town this morning, and I’ve no doubt she’s gone after him by this time.’
‘So that’s all right,’ said Mr Pyne cheerfully. ‘A very satisfactory case.’
The door flew open. In the doorway stood Reggie Wade.
‘Is she here?’ he demanded, advancing i
nto the room. ‘Where is she?’ He caught sight of Madeleine. ‘Darling!’ he cried. He seized both her hands. ‘Darling, darling. You knew, didn’t you, that it was real last night–that I meant every word I said to Iris? I don’t know why I was blind so long. But I’ve known for the last three days.’
‘Known what?’ said Madeleine faintly.
‘That I adored you. That there was no woman in the world for me but you. Iris can bring her divorce and when it’s gone through you’ll marry me, won’t you? Say you will, Madeleine, I adore you.’
He caught the paralysed Madeleine in his arms just as the door flew open again, this time to admit a thin woman dressed in untidy green.
‘I thought so,’ said the newcomer. ‘I followed you! I knew you’d go to her!’
‘I can assure you–’ began Mr Parker Pyne, recovering from the stupefaction that had descended upon him.
The intruder took no notice of him. She swept on: ‘Oh, Reggie, you can’t want to break my heart! Only come back! I’ll not say a word about this. I’ll learn golf. I won’t have any friends you don’t care about. After all these years, when we’ve been so happy together–’
‘I’ve never been happy till now,’ said Mr Wade, still gazing at Madeleine. ‘Dash it all, Iris, you wanted to marry that ass Jordan. Why don’t you go and do it?’
Mrs Wade gave a wail. ‘I hate him! I hate the very sight of him.’ She turned to Madeleine. ‘You wicked woman! You horrible vampire–stealing my husband from me.’
‘I don’t want your husband,’ said Madeleine distractedly.
‘Madeleine!’ Mr Wade was gazing at her in agony.
‘Please go away,’ said Madeleine.
‘But look here, I’m not pretending. I mean it.’
‘Oh, go away!’ cried Madeleine hysterically. ‘Go away!’
Reggie moved reluctantly towards the door. ‘I shall come back,’ he warned her. ‘You’ve not seen the last of me.’ He went out, banging the door.
‘Girls like you ought to be flogged and branded!’ cried Mrs Wade. ‘Reggie was an angel to me always till you came along. Now he’s so changed I don’t know him.’ With a sob, she hurried out after her husband.
Madeleine and Mr Parker Pyne looked at each other.
‘I can’t help it,’ said Madeleine helplessly. ‘He’s a very nice man–a dear–but I don’t want to marry him. I’d no idea of all this. If you knew the difficulty I had making him kiss me!’
‘Ahem!’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘I regret to admit it, but it was an error of judgement on my part.’ He shook his head sadly, and drawing Mr Wade’s file towards him, wrote across it:
FAILURE–owing to natural causes.
N.B.–They should have been foreseen.
The Case of the City Clerk
I
Mr Parker Pyne leaned back thoughtfully in his swivel chair and surveyed his visitor. He saw a small sturdily built man of forty-five with wistful, puzzled, timid eyes that looked at him with a kind of anxious hopefulness.
‘I saw your advertisement in the paper,’ said that little man nervously.
‘You are in trouble, Mr Roberts?’
‘No, not in trouble exactly.’
‘You are unhappy?’
‘I shouldn’t like to say that either. I’ve a great deal to be thankful for.’
‘We all have,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘But when we have to remind ourselves of the fact it is a bad sign.’
‘I know,’ said the little man eagerly. ‘That’s just it! You’ve hit the nail on the head, sir.’
‘Supposing you tell me all about yourself,’ suggested Mr Parker Pyne.
‘There’s not much to tell, sir. As I say, I’ve a great deal to be thankful for. I have a job; I’ve managed to save a little money; the children are strong and healthy.’
‘So you want–what?’
‘I–I don’t know.’ He flushed. ‘I expect that sounds foolish to you, sir.’
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
By skilled questioning he elicited further confidences. He heard of Mr Roberts’ employment in a well-known firm and of his slow but steady rise. He heard of his marriage; of the struggle to present a decent appearance, to educate the children and have them ‘looking nice’ of the plotting and planning and skimping and saving to put aside a few pounds each year. He heard, in fact, the saga of a life of ceaseless effort to survive.
‘And–well, you see how it is,’ confessed Mr Roberts. ‘The wife’s away. Staying with her mother with the two children. Little change for them and a rest for her. No room for me and we can’t afford to go elsewhere. And being alone and reading the paper, I saw your advertisement and it set me thinking. I’m forty-eight. I just wondered…Things going on everywhere,’ he ended, with all his wistful suburban soul in his eyes.
‘You want,’ said Mr Pyne, ‘to live gloriously for ten minutes?’
‘Well, I shouldn’t put it like that. But perhaps you’re right. Just to get out of the rut. I’d go back to it thankful afterwards–if only I had something to think about.’ He looked at the other man anxiously. ‘I suppose there’s nothing possible, sir? I’m afraid–I’m afraid I couldn’t afford to pay much.’
‘How much could you afford?’
‘I could manage five pounds, sir.’ He waited, breathless.
‘Five pounds,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘I fancy–I just fancy we might be able to manage something for five pounds. Do you object to danger?’ he added sharply.
A tinge of colour came into Mr Roberts’ sallow face. ‘Danger did you say, sir? Oh, no, not at all. I–I’ve never done anything dangerous.’
Mr Parker Pyne smiled. ‘Come to see me again tomorrow and I’ll tell you what I can do for you.’
II
The Bon Voyageur is a little-known hostelry. It is a restaurant frequented by a few habitués. They dislike newcomers.
To the Bon Voyageur came Mr Pyne and was greeted with respectful recognition. ‘Mr Bonnington here?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. He’s at his usual table.’
‘Good. I’ll join him.’
Mr Bonnington was a gentleman of military appearance with a somewhat bovine face. He greeted his friend with pleasure.
‘Hallo, Parker. Hardly ever see you nowadays. Didn’t know you came here.’
‘I do now and then. Especially when I want to lay my hand on an old friend.’
‘Meaning me?’
‘Meaning you. As a matter of fact, Lucas, I’ve been thinking over what we were talking about the other day.’
‘The Peterfield business? Seen the latest in the papers? No, you can’t have. It won’t be in till this evening.’
‘What is the latest?’
‘They murdered Peterfield last night,’ said Mr Bonnington, placidly eating salad.
‘Good heavens!’ cried Mr Pyne.
‘Oh, I’m not surprised,’ said Mr Bonnington. ‘Pigheaded old man, Peterfield. Wouldn’t listen to us. Insisted on keeping the plans in his own hands.’
‘Did they get them?’
‘No; it seems some woman came round and gave the professor a recipe for boiling a ham. The old ass, absent-minded as usual, put the recipe for the ham in his safe and the plans in the kitchen.’
‘Fortunate.’
‘Almost providential. But I still don’t know who’s going to take ’em to Geneva. Maitland’s in the hospital. Carslake’s in Berlin. I can’t leave. It means young Hooper.’ He looked at his friend.
‘You’re still of the same opinion?’ asked Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Absolutely. He’s been got at! I know it. I haven’t a shadow of proof, but I tell you, Parker, I know when a chap’s crooked! And I want those plans to get to Geneva. The League needs ’em. For the first time an invention isn’t going to be sold to a nation. It’s going to be handed over voluntarily to the League.
‘It’s the finest peace gesture that’s ever been attempted, and it’s got to be put through. And Hooper’s crooked. You’ll see, he’l
l be drugged on the train! If he goes in a plane it’ll come down at some convenient spot! But confound it all, I can’t pass him over. Discipline! You’ve got to have discipline! That’s why I spoke to you the other day.’
‘You asked me whether I knew of anyone.’
‘Yes. Thought you might in your line of business. Some fire eater spoiling for a row. Whoever I send stands a good chance of being done in. Your man would probably not be suspected at all. But he’s got to have nerve.’
‘I think I know of someone who would do,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Thank God there are still chaps who will take a risk. Well, it’s agreed then?’
‘It’s agreed,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
III
Mr Parker Pyne was summing up instructions. ‘Now, that’s quite clear? You will travel in a first-class sleeper to Geneva. You leave London at ten forty-five, via Folkestone and Boulogne, and you get into your first-class sleeper at Boulogne. You arrive at Geneva at eight the following morning. Here is the address at which you will report. Please memorize it and I will destroy it. Afterwards go to this hotel and await further instructions. Here is sufficient money in French and Swiss notes and currency. You understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Roberts’ eyes were shining with excitement. ‘Excuse me, sir, but am I allowed to–er–know anything of what it is I am carrying?’
Mr Parker Pyne smiled beneficently. ‘You are carrying a cryptogram which reveals the secret hiding-place of the crown jewels of Russia,’ he said solemnly. ‘You can understand, naturally, that Bolshevist agents will be alert to intercept you. If it is necessary for you to talk about yourself, I should recommend that you say you have come into money and are enjoying a little holiday abroad.’
IV
Mr Roberts sipped a cup of coffee and looked out over the Lake of Geneva. He was happy but at the same time he was disappointed.