Читать книгу Saul and the Spinster - Aidan de Brune - Страница 5

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MANY times during his service with the police, in England and Australia, seriously-speaking men and women had informed Detective-Inspector Saul Murmer that their lives were threatened. Many persons, were willing, even eager, to furnish elaborate details; but in no instance had a previous statement been followed by the decanting of an elaborately laid supper into his lap. The incident of the overthrown table gave Murmer reason to take Miss Westways' statements seriously, apart from the lady's undoubted personal charms.

The table had not been overthrown accidentally. The streamer had not fallen accidentally; nor had the swift hauling of the cord, concealed in the streamer into the gallery above, been a coincidence. Saul Murmer had been in the gallery above the table at which his party had been seated within sixty seconds of the first, hors-d'oeuvres reaching his immaculate trousers.

The place was deserted, the idle chairs and bare tables looking ghostly disconsolate in the dim lights reflected from the hall below. The mâitre d'hôtel, Luke Lenoire, volubly assuring him that the gallery was closed that evening to Green Lagoon clients; that it was never used except on carnival nights, and then only when the main floor accommodation was insufficient. Scanning the ruins of the once immaculate garment he believed fitted perfectly, Saul Murmer gave a liberal discount to Luke Lenoire's assurances of "impossibilities."

The search he insisted on resulted in the discovery of a silken cord, slight but of undoubted strength, under one of the tables, the gaudy papers of the streamer now only half-concealing it. It was only then that he allowed himself to be escorted to the dressing room, and temporary repairs executed.

When the detective rejoined the party, the younger members were inclined to make a joke of the affair and chaff the Inspector on his monopoly of the good things.

Miss Westways, however, noticed Saul Murmer's uneasiness, his surreptitious rubs and concealments of his damaged raiment, and decided she was tired. She asked the Inspector to escort her home, and in her flat at Elizabeth Bay ensconced her new friend in a well-fitting chair, a generous glass filled with an enticingly aromatic liquid on a low table beside him.

His suspicions of the contents of the glass fully confirmed, Saul Murmer sighed comfortably and looked at Miss Westways, seated in a similar chair to the one he occupied, and, on a low table beside her, a miniature delicate glass to the one that had provoked his admiration.

"Mathilde," he thought, "a really fascinating name for a very charming lady."

"I suppose you think me very foolish, Inspector." Miss Westways broke the long, satisfying silence. "But—"

"Not at all," said Saul Murmer; and for once felt he meant it.

"The letters alone are not worrying me," continued the lady. "There have been other things."

"Other things?" queried the Inspector comfortably.

"Surely you understand, Mr. Murmer?" A slight accent of asperity in the lady's tones awoke the police officer to the knowledge that not even a high official of the New South Wales Police Department could be in a spinster's flat at midnight without impropriety, unless chaperoned by "business."

"Oh, yes, certainly. Yes, surely!" A short effort, and he was sitting upright. "You are thinking of the—er—supper incident?"

"Yes." Miss Westways settled comfortably on her cushions again. Saul Murmer pondered the suggestion. He could not see a light.

"Young men and girls sometimes lose their little wits at night clubs," he suggested indifferently. Then more boldly: "It may have been a practical Joke."

"Bosh!" said Miss Westways.

Silence came on the two persons in the comfortably furnished sitting room. Saul Murmer began to find the chair, on which he sat not quite so comfortable: the liquor in the tall sparkling glass seemed to have a—something! The cigarette between his lips "bit" his tongue. It was his own tobacco, so he could not complain of that. He shifted uneasily in the deep chair—and suddenly remembered a cosy flat at King's Cross. That was it. He looked at his watch.

"There are five of those mauve envelopes, each containing a drawing of a box." A slight gesture of Miss Westways' right hand indicated a small pile of letters on the table beside the Inspector. "Directly after each letter arrived there was a—" the lady hesitated—"a practical Joke."

"Five letters—and five—er—practical Jokes—" The round baby blue eyes opened wide wits astonishment.

"That is so." Miss Westways spoke emphatically. "The first letter was followed by Paddy finding a live mouse in the letter-box." She paused and resumed speaking meditatively: "I have since wondered who was the most startled—I put salt, instead of sugar, in my tea. Paddy can scream!" Again Miss Westways paused. "I understood nothing frightened the modern girl!"

"So long as it wears—er—pants," explained the Inspector gravely. "Nothing! And—the other occasions, Miss Westways?"

"Things just as silly! Someone took the main electric light fuse the night before the second letter came, then—"

"Hello, everybody!" The sitting room door swung quickly open, and Paddy Burke came into the room with a flurry of draperies and a breath of the cool, clean, night air.

Inspector Murmer looked at the girl with interest. She was beautiful, with her dark, glowing, almost Eastern colouring, the vivid sparkle of intense young life in her western eyes. Not yet for her the meditation and remorse of this world of doubts. Her life was still in the present; her thoughts hesitating on the threshold of womanhood, her feet still treading the paths of adolescence.

Theo Manning had entered the room, immediately following the girl. The youth had been a problem to the Inspector all the evening. He had rarely spoken, never unless directly addressed. Yet he was not sulky; keen, rather old-worldly eyes had followed every incident since he had joined the party. He was tall and very blonde; light blue eyes not relieving an almost colourless, expressionless face.

The youth had puzzled the police officer. He had wondered what attraction the youth held for the girl. That there was an attraction he had no doubt, the proof was in her tones and gestures, careless though they seemed. Saul Murmer sighed. He admired the girl immensely; he felt he would like to make her a friend, in one of those semi-avuncular relationships that only can take the place of equality between the very young and those who have lost the fires of life's morning.

"Found the box, Mr. Murmer? Let me have a look, please—or is this only an informal evening call?"

"This latter would be ruled out of order at this time of night!" remarked the detective with a smile. He glanced at his wrist-watch, shrugged, and commenced to rise to his feet. Two firm little hands pressed against his shoulders, forcing him back on the seat.

"That's not fair," Paddy protested. "It's only half-past one, and you look so comfy." She perched herself on the arm of the detective's chair. "You know, I'm only allowed out until one, sharp, and Mattie waits up for me, even when I'm with Theo; and he wants a chaperon more than I!"

"Don't worry Mr. Murmer, Paddy." Miss Westways spoke with a suspicion of petulance. "Police Inspectors are not always detecting."

"I observe that." The girl spoke with a little restraint. She hesitated a moment. "Eva took Dizzy home."

"I expected they would bring you home," observed Miss Westways carelessly.

Miss Burke shook her dark curls. "Theo had his car," she explained. "At least, it's his father's car—but that's the same thing."

Inspector Murmer changed the subject. The ladies were tired and cross; yet there were questions he wished answered before he left. The sketches, the small practical jokes, must have some hidden meaning.

"Miss Burke," he said. "Have you seen anything about your home resembling the box of the sketches?"

The girl shook her head. "Nor at 'Florabella?'" he continued.

"No!"

Saul Murmer thought the girl answered almost too quickly. She changed the subject, glancing down at the Inspector's attire. "So Mattie cleaned you up. Awfully mean to collar all our supper like that! Still, Mr. Lenoire did well for us—and Henri told us you said to save the bill for him—and Theo almost fought him for it; didn't you, Theo?"

The tall, thin young man nodded. He was lounging against the wall, staring solemn-eyed at the girl. Paddy nodded gaily to him. "I just adore Theo," went on the girl. "I love talking, and he never interrupts. Other boys—" she made a little moue—"think they have to entertain a girl—and think that they should talk for heaps more than half the time." She paused! "Theo did say something last week, and I was so surprised that I could not remember what I had been talking about for a full minute."

"Paddy!" Miss Westways expostulated gently. The girl turned slightly sideways on the chair-arm, swinging a shapely leg and kissing her fingers to the elder lady. She glanced down at the watching police officer.

"Isn't auntie pretty, Mr. Murmer," she whispered semi-confidentially. "You know, if I were a man I should fall desperately in love with her." Then noticing Saul Murmer's look of surprise, she added. "Didn't you know that Mattie was my aunt, Inspector? I don't think much of you as a detective, if you didn't detect that!"

"I didn't," said Saul Murmer gravely. "You see, missy, in the days of my youth, little girls didn't call their aunts by their given names."

Paddy laughed. "I am supposed to be rebuked," she replied; then sprang to her feet, facing the detective. "But detective, dear, if you only knew how safe it makes one to feel, especially for a girl as young as I am. And—and I do call her 'auntie' sometimes—when I know the people about me, or when we're quite by ourselves, and I know it's absolutely safe."

Saul Murmer stared his astonishment. Miss Westways made an apologetic gesture.

"Don't you understand, really?" Miss Burke looked down, almost pityingly on the Inspector. "Surely you know that the girls of today emancipated from crinolines, bustles, leg-o'-mutton sleeves, and chaperones—poor auntie tries to be a very competent latter—have to be so very, very careful; especially when they possess young and pretty aunties—" The girl watched the Inspector's face, amusement, dancing in her fine eyes. "You are stupid," she considered. "You don't understand one bit—and you call yourself a detective! Have you remembered that when auntie marries—"

"Paddy!" said Miss Westways sharply.

"Of course you are going to get married, auntie." Paddy turned swiftly, then again faced the seated Inspector. "You see, Mr. Murmer, when that happens, and I've a hunch it won't be so many months ahead of us, I shall have to call her husband 'uncle,' if I call her 'auntie' now! And, just imagine! Supposing I don't like him. To call him 'uncle' and just hate the sight of him will be too awfully shrieking! Why—" She glanced over her shoulder at Miss Westways, and then at the detective, and there was subtle meaning in her glances. She broke into a series of little giggling laughs. "—so, you see, I call her 'Mattie' just for the time, and until I know whom she intends to marry. When she does make up her mind, and takes a pick from the nice men trailing on her skirts, I promise, faithfully, to call him 'uncle'—and her, of course, 'auntie'—haven't I, Mattie? But if she takes one of the nasty ones, however much she loves him, I'll—"

"Paddy, dear—" Then Miss Westways laughed. "Inspector, you will come to believe I live in a constant state of 'Paddy, dear,'" she continued; "Though she is a bit of a handful—"

"A dear," corrected the girl. With a swing of her voluminous skirts she again seated herself on the arm of the Inspector's chair, swinging her legs and showing rather more of silk-clad limbs than before. She rested her arm on the back of the chair, bending down to peer into the police officer's face. "I know auntie thinks I'm everything that's awful—and everything nice; and I think she's the dearest, darlingest, bestest auntie that ever a girl could have! And I think you're nice, too, Mr. Murmer. Your name is Saul, Isn't it—and Dizzy's Paul. Isn't that funny—"

She paused and again scanned the smooth skinned, round face just below the level of her shoulder. "I do think you're nice, Mr. Murmer. No, I'll call you 'Uncle Saul.' Now, isn't that just too sweet? And, let me whisper. Uncle Saul—I think Mattie thinks the same as I do."

"Paddy!" exclaimed the horrified lady.

"Oh, but she does, in spite of that 'Paddy'—and I daresay she'll give me a big, big kiss and-a bear-hug, when you've gone—so that I'll know that it I have said something—something I shouldn't have said—though I won't understand why—" She laughed, looking teasingly at Miss Westways. She hesitated. "Yes; I think I could very easily call you 'Uncle Saul'—and mean it—and now and then give you big, big, uncley kiss—when you do something I like very especially."

Miss Burke swayed dangerously on the arm of the big chair towards the stout inspector, her eyes glowing with mischief. For a moment Saul Murmer thought she was going to experiment in a—a perfectly "uncley" manner, and his ingrain English Puritanism caught fire. He struggled to rise to his feet, glancing suggestively at his wrist-watch. From his wrist-watch Inspector Murmer glanced at the girl above him. With an effort, he covered his embarrassment with a veneer of officialdom.

"I—er—suppose, Miss Burke, you have seen nothing of a box in any resembling the—er—drawings sent to Miss Westways," he asked, apparently forgetting that but a short quarter-of-an-hour before he had asked a very similar question.

"The box—Oh! But, Mr. Murmer, you are not going to leave us?"

Paddy had a single-track mind. "Oh, please don't go; I was just beginning to—No, I said that at the night-club. But, you know, Uncle Saul, it you go, Theo will have to go, too—you really can't leave a sheik like him with two unprotected females at this time of night. Don't go, please!"

Saul Murmer shook his head. He felt there was safety in flight. Also he noted Miss Westways' face, and gathered from her expression that an adjournment of the evening would meet with her entire approval. Again he shook his head. Suddenly Paddy smiled, waltzing across the room with a little shriek of delight.

"I know! Uncle Saul, you live at King's Cross, don't you? Then Theo shall drive you home. It's on his way, and he has his car—I mean his father's car." She beckoned imperiously to her cavalier. "Theo, you are to drive Inspector Murmer home—and, Theo, none of your speeding tricks while he's in your charge—" She broke off with a squeal of delight, clasping her hands to her breast and gazing rapturously at the police officer, "Oh, isn't it gorgeous, Mattie! Just think of it! Theo, with his craze for speed, doing it through Sydney suburbs with an inspector of Police in his car!"

She swung to the youth again. "Theo, you can speed as much as you like, and the faster you go the more I'll love you—" She paused, glancing from one to the other; then, impatiently: "Oh, don't you see? He can't arrest you for speeding while you're the means of him getting safely home at this hour of the night! Yes, yes! Inspector Murmer, we've got the goods on you, and over the night-club affair, too! You paid for our supper—and it included spirituous liquors bought after licensing hours!" She turned to her aunt, rapturously: "Oh, gorgeous! gorgeous! He's delivered right into our hands for ever and ever! We've got the—the goods on him—as he tells all the nice crooks when he puts them in those nasty, dark, damp cells! Oh, good-o!"

Saul Murmer grinned, and something like a smile dawned on Miss Westways' slips. Miss Paddy Burke was, in her own phraseology, something of a handful. The Inspector clasped the slender hand frankly extended to him, with a visible thrill of pleasure. He knew the girl liked him—and he was absolutely certain he liked her. He went to take leave of the elder lady, in somewhat incoherent words, for all his life he had been a very lonely man, and the homely chaff of the girl had brought back memories of what might have been had he devoted less time to business. As he turned to the door, the girl sped before him.

"Sit down, Mattie, I'm seeing, 'Uncle Saul' out. You know, I can't trust you early Victorians—or early Edwardians—which is it, Theo, with your tender love-passages in our little hall at two in the morning. Come on, Theo, it doesn't take you all night to say 'good-bye' to Mattie. Yes, I'm turning you both out. Theo, you're to drive Uncle. Saul home and then—then I'm not going to be responsible for you—until we meet again."

In the car, on the silent suburban streets, and throughout the drive to King's Cross, Theo Manning preserved his pose of silent watcher.

Only when Inspector Murmer had alighted from the car and was turning to thank him for the lift home, he abandoned his sphinx pose, making his first spontaneous remark for the evening.

"Paddy's a goer, isn't she?" he observed suddenly. "Awfully pretty and a good kid, though. Think so?"

Saul Murmer nodded. He was not prepared to discuss the ladies with this very wordless young man.

"Say, Inspector—" Theo broke in on the detective's thanks. "Paddy's got a wheeze."

"Is that original?" asked the Inspector coldly.

"She's got a wheeze," repeated the young man imperturbably. "It's a wheeze that we—she and I—should hunt up this artist feller who's drawing those boxes and sending them to Miss Westways. Awful bore, y' know; but what's a feller to do when the girl says so!" He paused, then added, in less lazy tones. "I thought perhaps you might—" His voice faded beneath the Inspector's stony stare.

"You thought I might, what?" asked Paul Murmer.

"Well, it's like this—" The light, lazy voice drawled on. "Just like this. If Paddy says 'So,' its 'So'—and so I've got to line up with Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Thorndyke, Deadwood Dick, and all them beastly masters of energy. Y' know, they don't have classics on detecting at the 'varsity, though why, I don't understand, or I'd swot, it up there. So I thought you'd give me a few pointers on how you fellers go about the biz. Not that I want you to give away any of your patents, or copyrights, or anything like that. That wouldn't be fair to you fellers who have to earn your living at the swot. All I want is just a few hints on how to catch the feller—see?"

Saul Murmer laughed. He considered; perhaps it would not be a bad thing to give this empty-beaded youth something useful to do—though, of course, he would not allow him or the girl to run themselves into any real danger.

"A few hints!" Inspector Murmer apparently considered. "Well, I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. Suppose you and the young lady just keep your eyes open—for the man who drew those sketches, and—and for the box they refer to. You may get on to something—" He paused, and his voice took a stern note. "That's all you can do: just watch. When your certain someone is taking a suspicious interest in Miss Westways and her business, come to me. Do nothing else. I'm not going to have you children run your heads into danger. Understand?"

He waved a brief farewell, and turned towards the block of buildings. Almost as his foot touched the step, the youth's voice halted him. "Hey, Inspector! There's one thing Paddy and I have seen. There's been a feller hanging about 'Florabella' quite a lot of late. Tall feller, wears a monocle; drawls his words, like all you English—" The Inspector thought this rather rich of the young man, even though he claimed Australian birth. "Dresses well, and all that," continued Theo. "Oh, and remember. He's got quaint eyebrows, or at least one them—the left one, I think, comes right down to a peak—and then he has a bit of a limp—"

"Which leg?" asked Saul Murmer sharply. "Left. Goodness—why he's all left, I remember. Left eyelashes, left leg for the limp; and monocle screwed in his left eye. By Jove! That's quaint! All left! Know him, Inspector?"

The detective considered a few moments, repressing thoughts that had sprung to his mind. "Can't say that I do," he replied carelessly. "That limp sounds interesting; and those eyelashes should certainly place him. I'll have a few inquiries made, but it you should see him again, just tip oft any of our men who happen to be near." Murmer paused, then added hastily; "I mean you—not Miss Paddy. You don't want to mix her up in this sort of thing."

"Couldn't keep her out of it," drawled Theo Manning, with his usual wan smile, "She's the sort who takes to dangers and adventures like a puppy laps milk. Goo'-night!"

Manning accelerated the engine of the car, and Saul Murmer turned again to the entrance of the block of flats. Suddenly the sounds from the engine died away and, involuntarily, the Inspector turned. The youth beckoned him to come to the car window again.

"Say, Inspector, I forgot!" There was no trace of excitement in the young man's voice. "The johnnie wears one of those queer old-fashioned tailed coats—what the English call morning coats. Awfully quaint! Say, dad says he's going to send me to England when I've finished at the coll.—to study the people. He says they're worth it, but I don't know! And—"

He paused and bent again to the gears. "S'pose you want your beauty sleep, so I won't keep you. Just keep one eye open for the feller—and when you see him call on me. We'll have him in Long Bay, or wherever you keep those johnnies before he—"

The car shot forward trailing a "W-e-l-l, s-o-o l-o-ng!" behind it.

For a few moments Saul Murmer stood on the pavement watching up the road in the direction the car had travelled. He turned to the steps leading up to his home, a puzzled frown on his round, good-humoured face.

"Peaked eyebrows, limp, monocle, old-fashioned morning coat! Yes—I guess I'll know that man!"

He put the matter from him as he ascended to his floor in the lift, and ten minutes after unlatching his front door, was fast asleep.