Читать книгу Inspector Furnival's Cases - Annie Haynes - Страница 20

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"Ah, yes, Miss Peggy, she is a lucky girl!" Célestine said reflectively. "Milord Chesterham is a fine man—a very fine man! And he have taste too! He is not like Sir Anthony, who looks at you as if you were wood—so! Milord Chesterham, he is always polite—very."

Mr. Lennox laughed. He was leaning over the stile that gave access from the Heron's Carew footpath to the Home Wood. "But who would not be polite to you, mademoiselle?"

Célestine humped up one shoulder. "But lots of people, I assure you, monsieur. They are not all so agreeable—your compatriots."

"Are they not?" Mr. Lennox questioned. "I am sorry to hear that. But it is you that I want to be agreeable this afternoon, mademoiselle."

"Does Monsieur mean that usually I am disagreeable?"

Célestine demanded, glancing at him coquettishly.

Mr. Lennox lifted his hands in protest. "You know that I think you are all that is most charming, mademoiselle. How can you pretend to misunderstand me? But to-day I want to show you—you remember I told you I was a collector?"

"But certainly, monsieur." Célestine's black eyes watched his face.

"Well, latterly I have been getting together a few things that I think would interest you. I want to show them to you, for I know you are an expert, and it strikes me that I have a collection of fans, ancient and modern, that it would be hard to beat."

"Fans, monsieur." Célestine looked eager. "But of course I shall be delighted."

"I have got them down here," Mr. Lennox said, indicating the Carew Arms with a backward jerk of his head. "Some of them are inset with jewels, some of them are made of ivory and rare old lace, one or two are painted. One in particular, said to have belonged to Marie Antoinette, has a pretty little scene by Watteau upon it."

"A—h! How I should like to see them." Célestine's eyes were sparkling. "I love fans. Miladi has some of the most superb. She too, had a Watteau painted one, but it is lost, alas!"

"Lost! That is a pity," Mr. Lennox said quietly, though there was a gleam of interest in his large blue eyes. "Well, mademoiselle, I should like to ask you whether it beats mine, not that I can part with it even to replace Lady Carew's. How did she manage to lose it?"

Célestine held up her hands. "Ma foi, but I do not know, monsieur! Truly such carelessness would be impossible to me. Miladi had it put to wear with her magnificent gown for Lady Denborough's; then, she did not go, but she lie on the sofa and fan herself with it, that is the last I know. A day or two afterwards, when I am looking for it she tell me she has lost it."

"Nice piece of carelessness that," Mr. Lennox commented. "Mademoiselle, you will walk up to the Carew Arms with me and look at my collection? I have got a private room."

"Monsieur!" Célestine gave a slight scream. "But that would not be convenable—not at all! Even in your England a young lady cannot do that."

Mr. Lennox leaned a little farther over the gate; his tone grew more persuasive.

"You know I would not ask you to do anything I would not like my own sister to do, mademoiselle. Why should you not walk up to the Carew Arms with me? I have got a delightful little sitting-room looking upon the garden, or if you don't like to come into my room"—as Célestine emitted another little shriek—"I dare say they would let us have the bar parlour. You know Mrs. Curtis, don't you?"

"But a little," Mademoiselle answered, a trifle haughtily, shaking some dust from her skirts as she spoke.

"She has been like a mother to me," Mr. Lennox went on obtusely. "And she would get you some tea; no, not tea, coffee—real continental coffee, mademoiselle. I have taught her how to make it myself, I tell you what, mademoiselle, I dare say she would let us have it out in the garden, and I might bring my fans out and show them to you in the summer-house. The most prudish person couldn't see any harm in that, could they?"

Célestine was inclined to think they could not. After a little more coquetting she yielded the point.

The footpath to Carew village was a short cut from the Home Wood. The Carew Arms stood at the near end of the village street, a big old-fashioned hostelry, facing the village green on the one side, with its large well-stocked garden on the other. Mr. Lennox, mindful of the proprieties, did not go in by the open door under the porch, but turned instead to the garden gate. The arbour stood at the bottom of the rough lawn, and thither Lennox and Célestine made their way. Lennox busied himself carrying the chairs and table into the open.

"There now, mademoiselle, now you will be comfortable, while I go and see about the coffee," he said, as he dusted them with his handkerchief.

Célestine seated herself with a simper. She felt that after this there could not be much doubts as to Mr. Lennox's intentions as she watched him walk up the path. It was evident, too, that he was well off; the match would be a good one, and Célestine lost herself in rosy visions of the future.

Presently a smiling country maid appeared with the promised coffee, and Lennox followed, a large wooden box in his arms. "Just the cream of the collection, as it were, mademoiselle," he said, as he deposited it on the grass beside her. "I couldn't think of troubling you with the whole lot."

He did the honours of the coffee, and some small wafer-like biscuits he had imported from town, and Célestine, feeling exceedingly comfortable, sank back in her chair and allowed him to wait upon her.

But at last the alfresco meal was over, and Lennox turned back to his fans. He lifted the box on to the table and opened it carefully.

Célestine uttered a little cry of surprise as she saw the glitter of jewels on the handle of the first one; she bent over it carefully.

"But it is all that there is of the most beautiful, monsieur, it is superb! Miladi herself has nothing finer."

"Hasn't she really?" Lennox questioned as he went on raising the layers of tissue paper.

"But, monsieur"—Célestine leaned forward with a quick motion of surprise—"what is that you have in your hand now—that painted one? It is precisely like Miladi's, the one she lost that I was telling you about."

"It is a beauty anyway." Lennox was holding it in his hand now, he was moving it backwards and forwards. "I like it the best of them all myself."

Célestine stood up and put out her hand. "One moment, monsieur. Yes," turning to the ivory sticks, "it is the very same. It is indeed Miladi's fan that she lose—it is marvellous—extraordinaire! How did you come by it, monsieur?"

Lennox looked at her in apparent amazement. "It was brought to me by a dealer, a man who knows I am always on the look-out for such things. But about it being Lady Carew's—I can't believe that, mademoiselle. You must have made a mistake."

"I have not," Célestine affirmed positively. "See you here, monsieur, there are the Queen Marie Antoinette's initials, in diamonds, do you see? And there beneath is a tiny diamond bee, which is of the most recent. Sir Anthony, he had that put there to show it is my lady's."

Mr. Lennox stared at the bee in the most obvious astonishment. "Are you sure, mademoiselle? That bee—but it is a most marvellous coincidence!"

"Most marvellous, monsieur!" Célestine agreed, twisting the fan about. "And yet I suppose it is not so, for if it were stolen the thief would take it to a dealer. I expect Miladi would give a good deal to get her fan back, monsieur."

"She must not get it back," Lennox returned with real alarm. "It is the gem of my collection, I would not part with it for untold gold. See you, mademoiselle, there is no need for you to say a word about it—it is just an accident that you recognized it. Promise me that you will not mention it."

Célestine revolved the situation rapidly in her own mind. After all it was as Mr. Lennox had said—it was pure accident that she had recognized the fan. Lady Carew was already reconciled to its loss. Moreover, the probability was that if she spoke of her discovery she would offend Lennox and destroy those golden châteaux en Espagne that she had been so busy building of late.

Her mind was made up; she flashed a captivating glance at Lennox, who was watching her, with more anxiety than seemed quite necessary.

"Very well, monsieur, I cannot say you no, it shall be as you wish. It shall be our little secret—yours and mine."

Lennox's smile and quick look of relief repaid her; he took out one of the fans not yet unfastened and handed it to her.

"If you will honour me by accepting it, mademoiselle."

Célestine gave a gasp of delight as she unfolded it and noted the exquisite carving of the ivory, the beautiful old lace.

"But you are too good, monsieur; it is too exquisite, too lovely for me."

"I don't think so!" Lennox said bluntly, laying the Marie Antoinette fan back in the box.

The church clock chimed the hour. He looked up. "How the time has flown, to be sure!"

Célestine started in dismay. "And I—miladi will be wanting me. You must be a magician, monsieur; you make me forget everything." She rose quickly.

Lennox fastened up his box and took it back to the house, then he caught up the maid before she reached the gate.

They walked back to the wood together, Célestine keeping up a voluble conversation in her broken English, Lennox for the most part listening with a smile that showed him to be well satisfied with his companion.

When they had parted, and he turned back, he found himself confronted by a tall broad-shouldered figure that seemed to rise up suddenly behind. A deep voice said:

"Well, inspector."

"Lennox, if you please, Mr. Crasster, sir." He glanced round. "One never knows who may be within hearing."

"Lady Carew's French maid, for example," Stephen said deliberately. "What do you imagine Mrs.—er—Lennox would say if she could see you now, my good friend?"

Mr. Lennox laughed sheepishly as he drew his beard through his fingers. "She has had to get used to it, sir, in the way of—"

"In the way of business," Crasster finished. "But surely that can't lead to Lady Carew's maid?"

Lennox coughed. "Not directly, sir; I can't say it does. But—well, it is a matter I should like to consult you about if you could spare me a few minutes, say, to-morrow or the next day."