The Scandal at 23 Mount Street (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 9) (5 page)

‘Wait!’ he said, and followed her up the corridor. They stopped by the door to the ballroom and Angela regarded him inquiringly, doing her best to hide her anger under a calm exterior.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘Don’t go. Will you let me explain?’ he said.

In any other circumstances she would have said no, for listening to him would only serve to give him yet another opportunity to do what he did so well: try and win her over with words. Now, however, she saw a look on his face she had never seen before—a look of genuine concern, perhaps even anxiety, at what had just happened, and it disconcerted her, for she had never known him to appear anything other than perfectly pleased with himself. But what could he possibly have to say in justification? As far as they could they had always avoided talking about his crimes, the thing that would forever stand between them. Angela did not want to know anything, for the subject pained her, and he had had the sense and the good manners to refrain from making an accessory of her by pressing the knowledge on to her. But now it looked as though they would have to have it out once and for all—here, in the most public of places. Angela felt the anger rise again at the idea of being forced into such a conversation at such a time, but after a moment’s thought she merely said, without the slightest hint of a smile:

‘I shall give you five minutes, but not here. We’d better go somewhere private.’

She indicated another dimly-lit passage that led off at right angles to the one they were in, and set off along it without looking to see whether he were following. She had been on the organizing committee for the previous year’s ball, and remembered that down here was the room they had used as an office. She stopped halfway along the passage, opened a door and switched on a light to reveal a tiny box-room—little more than a large cupboard, in fact, which contained nothing but a desk and chair, one or two small cabinets and a few untidy piles of paper. Valencourt shut the door behind them and turned to her. There was a silence as they regarded each other warily again, then after a long moment he put his hand reluctantly into his inside pocket and brought something out. It had been wrapped in a handkerchief but had partly escaped its makeshift covering, which was how Angela had spotted it.

‘I ought to have rolled it up more tightly,’ he said.

‘Is that what you think?’ she said.

He held the thing out to her and for an instant she recoiled, but then curiosity got the better of her and she slowly reached out and took it. It was a brooch, a little smaller than the palm of her hand, set with clusters of diamonds, and with one great ruby the size of her thumb-nail in the centre. The light glimmered off it, dazzling and mesmerizing her, and for one mad second she could almost understand why it was he did what he did. But then the spell broke, and she handed it back quickly and said:

‘Did you steal it?’

‘Not exactly,’ he said.

‘Either you did or you didn’t,’ she said.

He fell silent for a moment, and seemed to be debating with himself as to what to tell her. At last, he said:

‘There was a robbery a few days ago at a house in Kent. You may have read something about it.’

‘Yes,’ she said, and her heart sank. ‘I did, but I didn’t think it sounded like your work.’

‘It wasn’t. An old man was hit on the head while it was going on. I don’t like that sort of thing—never have. There was no need for violence.’

‘But you have some connection to the thieves,’ she said.

‘Unfortunately, yes. I won’t bore you with the whole story, but some time ago when it was all being planned I agreed to take some of the stuff off their hands and dispose of it. It’s not something I’d normally do, but at the time I didn’t have any choice, for reasons I won’t go into, so I said I’d do it.’

‘I see,’ she said.

‘The man I was dealing with said it would be an easy job, and that they’d be in and out within minutes. It’s a private collection, you see. It’s not like a museum where there’d be bars on the windows, guards, and suchlike. This chap said nobody would even find out they’d been in until the next morning. I didn’t like or trust him, and didn’t want to mix with his associates, who are a pretty notorious lot—yes, even among our circles—but I told myself it would be a matter of meeting the fellow after the job, taking the stuff and disappearing.

‘Of course, as it turned out it wasn’t as simple as that. First of all they whacked that old fellow on the head. I hadn’t agreed to that—in fact, I’d made it quite clear that I wouldn’t be associated with that sort of thing. Then they wanted me to shelter two of them for a week or so, just until the hue and cry died down, even though I’d said I hadn’t the slightest intention of seeing any of them again after the job was done. And on top of all that they tried to back out on the price we’d originally agreed. By that point I could see quite well the way things were going, and I had no desire to get into an argument, so I—er—took something as payment for my time and made myself scarce.’

‘And you think that’s not stealing?’ said Angela, aghast.

‘Well, yes, I suppose it is,’ he admitted. ‘But I didn’t plan it, exactly. It was a spur of the moment thing. Old habits die hard and I simply couldn’t help myself.’

He gazed wistfully at the ruby brooch in his hand.

‘But it’s not
yours
,’ said Angela.

‘I know, but I’m afraid I couldn’t resist it. It’s so awfully pretty.’ Before she could reply he approached her and held it up to her breast, where it sparkled against the black of her dress. ‘Don’t you think it would look beautiful on you?’ he said in his most persuasive tones.

She pushed his hand away and took a step back.

‘Don’t!’ she said. ‘I don’t want the thing near me, and if you think you can win me round with that sort of nonsense you’re very wrong indeed. Oh, what’s the use?’ she went on, throwing up her hands. ‘I can see there’s no sense at all in trying to talk to you. I’d better go. My friends will be wondering where I am.’

‘No!’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t go. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry you took it? Or sorry I found you out?’ said Angela. He did not reply, and she continued, ‘Look, it’s perfectly obvious this is something we’ll never agree on. You think it’s all just fun—a terribly good joke. But it’s not; it’s wrong, and however much you try to pass it off as something quite innocent, nothing changes the fact that it’s theft—pure and simple.’

She paused, then before she could stop herself admitted the thing which had hurt the most.

‘But why did you have to bring me into it, Edgar?’ she said quietly. ‘Why did you have to lie to me on top of everything? Silly of me, but I really believed you meant it when you said you were going to retire. You needn’t have said that at all. I already knew what you were; I had no expectations of you. Then why make a fool of me again? Is it just because you can?’

‘Please don’t say that,’ said Valencourt. ‘I never dreamt of trying to make a fool of you. I promise you I was telling the truth. This was my last job and I won’t be doing any more. It’s just unfortunate that it turned out the way it did, since it means I’ll have to disappear rather more quickly than I intended. But I swear I haven’t lied to you. Not this time.’

‘I take it these people are looking for you, then.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said. ‘And not to shake my hand, either.’

‘So that’s why you’re planning to lie low,’ said Angela. ‘I see now. And what do you intend to do with the brooch?’

‘I shall find some way of getting rid of it,’ he said. ‘There’s always a market for these things.’

‘Give it back,’ she said suddenly.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Give it back. It’s not yours.’

‘But that won’t help. They’re not the forgiving sort.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I meant give it back to its rightful owners. They’ve lost their whole jewellery collection, so of course this won’t put things right, but at least it will go some way to making amends.’

He gazed at her blankly.

‘But—’ he began.

‘Is it so difficult to understand?’ she said. ‘I thought I’d made myself clear enough.’

‘What do you suggest I do?’ he said. ‘Wrap it in brown paper and post it back to them with an apology?’

‘If you like,’ she said.

‘Why, that’s absurd,’ he said. He seemed astonished at the whole idea.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘if you really meant what you said about giving it all up then you’ll do it. But don’t insult me by claiming that you’re going to retire for my sake when all the time you’re wandering around with stolen rubies in your pocket. I won’t stand for it. If you’re really serious about this, and if you really care in the slightest what I think of you—which I doubt—’

‘Of course I care what you think of me.’

‘Then do it,’ she said.

Her expression held a challenge.

‘All right,’ he said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I will.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know. Now, if you like.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Angela, caught off guard, since she had been quite certain that he would make his excuses and leave.

‘Why not? I’m going away tomorrow, so the sooner the better.’

‘But how?’ said Angela. ‘You’re not really going to post it, are you?’

‘It’s not that far—not much more than an hour’s drive at this time of night, I shouldn’t think. I shall take it in person.’

Angela stared at him, astounded. She had not expected this at all.

‘Good,’ she managed weakly. ‘I’m glad.’

‘But how will you know I’ve done it, if you won’t take my word?’ he said.

She did not deny the implication, but came to a sudden decision. If he could be reckless, then so could she.

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘If you will insist on my acting as your conscience then I suppose I ought to rise to the occasion.’

His face broke into a smile.

‘Splendid,’ he said. ‘Then let’s go.’

They left at midnight, when the revellers were just attacking the giant white rabbit with yells and shrieks of glee. Angela found a woman from her party and said that she was going home, and that she would take a taxi so please not to worry about her, then ran off before any questions could be asked. Then she and Valencourt slipped out unobserved through a side door and hurried to his motor-car, which was parked not far away. Soon they were speeding along the Old Kent Road out of London. The roads were almost deserted at that time of night, and they sat mostly in silence. Angela was lost in her own thoughts, half-convinced that she was in the middle of the strangest dream, and that any moment she would wake up and find herself in her own bed—for surely she could not
really
be driving into deepest Kent with a notorious thief, on a mission to replace a stolen jewel, could she? And yet it had been her own idea. It was really none of her business whether he returned the thing or not, and it would have been much wiser altogether to feign unconcern as to what became of him, but she had the oddest feeling that tonight was important, and that what happened in the next few hours would somehow affect both of them for a long time to come. It was a strange impression, and one she could not shake off, but she supposed that
anyone
would feel the same way if they were placed in the situation in which she now found herself—which, after all, was a highly unusual one.

At last they saw a sign for Faversham and Valencourt turned off the Kent road.

‘Do you know where it is?’ said Angela.

‘I think so,’ he replied. ‘Luckily for us, it’s on the outskirts of the town so we oughtn’t to draw too much attention to ourselves.’

It now occurred to Angela to wonder what would happen if they were caught. Valencourt would be arrested, of course, but what would happen to her? Was it a crime to be in possession of stolen goods even if one intended to return them? She did not know. And what would the police say if they found her in company with a known criminal? For the first time Angela was forced to consider whether or not she ought to deny all knowledge of his activities if she were ever questioned on the subject. Of course, it would be a cowardly thing to do, but equally there would be little sense in admitting to knowing who he was, for it was not as though she had ever stolen anything herself and she had always done her best to distance herself from him—with very little success, it was true, but her intentions were good. She was quite certain that Valencourt would advise her not to confess anything, but her conscience was uncomfortable. After a few minutes’ consideration, she decided very sensibly that it would be much better not to get caught at all, and put the thing out of her mind.

They drove along country roads for a mile or two, then Valencourt stopped the car.

‘We’d better walk from here,’ he said. ‘A car will be too noisy at this time of night.’

‘It’s not far, is it?’ said Angela, who was not dressed for muddy lanes.

‘Only a quarter of a mile or so,’ he said.

Fortunately, the road was not too dirty, and soon they saw a pair of tall gate-posts ahead of them. Through them, Angela could just see the outline of a large house a short distance away.

‘Well, here goes,’ said Valencourt, and fished in his pocket for the brooch.

‘Hadn’t you better wipe the finger-prints off it first?’ said Angela.

‘I don’t suppose you’d take it as a compliment if I told you you’d make a good criminal?’ he said.

‘Not exactly,’ she said.

He wiped the brooch and wrapped it carefully in the handkerchief, then, placing a finger over his lips, he took her hand and they tiptoed up the path together. The house was in pitch blackness and all was silent. Angela found herself holding her breath. She would not admit it, but she was afraid, fearing that lights would suddenly go on and dogs would start to bark, and it would be all up with them. But everything remained quiet and they reached the front door without incident.

They stood under the portico and Angela regarded Valencourt expectantly. He looked at the little bundle in his hand.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?’ he said in a low voice.

‘Quite sure.’

‘Very well, then. Will you do it for me?’