The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (2 page)

'Ah, capital. Er, spare a moment?'

'I'm very busy. What's it about?'

'Well, I wondered if I could talk to you about—'

'Well, come in, man! Don't yell at me from the doorway.'

'Oh, thanks.' An untidily dressed body followed the head into the room. 'Sorry to interrupt, my dear chap, but I wanted a word about
The King's Man
!

Haggermeir groaned. 'Not another one! I suppose
you
wrote it, too, did you?'

'What's that?' Gilbert gave a roar. He stepped menacingly up to the newcomer. 'Let me tell you that I am the
sole
writer of
The King's Man
, and—'

'Really?' The other beamed and held out his hand. 'I'm delighted to meet you. I suppose that means you'll be coming down to Alderley, too, will you?'

Gilbert stared at him. 'Eh?'

Haggermeir goggled. 'Who - who are you?'

'Oh, sorry. Should have introduced myself. I'm Burford.'

Haggermeir's jaw dropped. '
Earl
Burford?'

'Of, as a matter of fact.'

'Uh?'

'Earl
of
Burford's the correct form. Not that it matters.'

'Oh, my lord, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Do forgive me.' Haggermeir was red-faced. 'Please, sit down.' He ushered Lord Burford to a chair. 'Will you have a drink, sir?'

'Ah.' Lord Burford thought for a moment. 'I'll have a bourbon old fashioned.'

'Oh, I'll have to send down for that. I only have Scotch.'

'No, no, Scotch and soda will be fine.'

'Sure?'

'Quite. Er, prefer it, actually. No offence. Just thought, you being American . . .' Lord Burford tailed off.

Gilbert said: 'Whisky'll suit me, too, thanks - Cyrus.'

Haggermeir, crossing to a makeshift bar, cast him a dirty glance.

Gilbert flopped into a chair near the Earl's. 'Why should you expect me at Alderley, Lord Burford?'

'Well, as the producer wants to look over the place to see if it's suitable for filming, I assumed the writer would want to, as well.'

Gilbert nodded, as though a light had dawned. 'Ah, yes, of course -1 will want to. I was just surprised you, a non-professional, realising the necessity of that. Cyrus and I were hoping you'd include me in the invitation. That's settled, then. Now, let me see, Cyrus, you're going down when?'

Haggermeir came hack carrying two glasses. He looked grim. He handed one to the Earl and the other to Gilbert, saying, 'Thursday. But on second thought, I'm not sure it's necessary for you to come - until I've decided if the place is suitable.'

'Oh, nonsense. If you do decide on it, the script will need a lot of adaptation. I'll have to start the rewrite as soon as possible.' He downed his whisky and got to his feet. 'So Thursday it will be. I'll make my own way down, Cyrus. See you there. Thanks for the invitation, Lord Burford. I should be there for lunch. Bye.' And Gilbert ambled from the room.

Lord Burford said: 'Interestin' feller.'

Haggermeir grunted grimly.

'Unusual personality. I didn't catch the name.'

'Arlington Gilbert.'

'Oh.'

'Earl, it's an honour to have you here, but is there anything you particularly wanted to talk about?'

'Well, just this: it's my missus. She isn't at all keen on having this picture shot at Alderley. Didn't want you to arrive assumin' everything was cut and dried.'

'Oh, I won't be, my lord. I anticipated that situation. Now, firstly, so her ladyship doesn't object to my looking over the place, I recommend you tell her I want to do it because I'm thinking of building a replica of Alderley in Hollywood. It's quite true. If it turns out it's impractical to shoot at Alderley, I may well do that. Then, if I do find the house is OK, I suggest we leave the next stage to Rex. He has a very persuasive manner.'

'Ah, I see.' The Earl looked knowing. 'Oh, that's splendid. Right ho. Er, he around, by any chance?'

'No, afraid not. He's out seeing the sights. Naturally, we didn't expect you to call . . .'

'Course you didn't. I'll see him Thursday. Must say it's a real thrill.' He stood up. 'Better be toddlin' off now.'

Haggermeir got up hastily. 'Well, my lord, it's been a real pleasure. And I do apologise for that little misunderstanding.'

'Think nothing of it. Sort of thing that's always happenin' to me. Lavinia says I lack an air of authority. Funny name, that.'

Haggermeir looked blank. 'Lavinia?'

'No, no - Arlington Gilbert. Backwards. Like that singer chappie.'

'Er, I'm afraid I don't—'

'Feller who sings with the MacDonald gal. Always think he ought to be called Eddy Nelson. Well, toodle-oo, my dear chap. Till Thursday.'

Chapter Three

The telephone rang at Alderley. The Countess, who happened to be near, answered it. Alderley One.'

A woman's voice said, 'Is Lady Burford there, please?'

'Speaking.'

'Oh, Lavinia. It's Cecily.'

'Cecily?'

'Your cousin. Cecily Bradshaw as was.'

'Good gracious! Cecily! It must be twenty-five years. I can hardly believe it. Where are you?'

'London.'

'I thought you were still in Australia. How long have you been home?'

'Just a few days. We're here for a fortnight, then going on to America.'

'We? Oh, that is you and, and—' Lady Burford groped unsuccessfully for a long-forgotten name, 'and your husband?'

'That's right - Sebastian.'

'How is Sebastian'?'

'Thriving. Lavinia. I was hoping we could get together?'

'That would be very nice. When were you thinking of?'

'Well, we're fully engaged for the next few days, but we're free from Thursday until Monday. Could you come up to town?'

'Unfortunately, that's impossible. We have guests. Next week perhaps?'

'No, we're off to Norfolk to stay with some friends of Sebastian's on Tuesday. Oh, what a shame! I did want to see you again. You're one of the few relatives I have left in England.'

Lady Burford thought rapidly. There was no help for it. 'Would you like to come here?'

'You mean to stay? Oh, I wouldn't want to impose, if you have other guests.'

'Oh, that's no problem. We have plenty of room.'

'That's really very kind.'

'It's settled, then. When will you be arriving?'

'Well, we've hired a station wagon, so we'll be motoring down. We could leave Thursday morning and be there by lunchtime, if that's convenient.'

'Perfectly. Very well, Cecily, we'll look forward to seeing you then. Goodbye.'

'Goodbye, Lavinia, and thank you so much.'

Lady Burford put down the receiver and was turning away when it rang again. She answered it.

'Gilbert here.'

'Who?'

'Arlington Gilbert. Listen, I've got a message for the Earl or his old woman. Tell them I'll be bringing my secretary.'

'I beg your pardon?'

He gave a sigh. 'You deaf? I said I'm bringing my secretary, Maude Fry, for the weekend. I'll need her if I'm to work on this screenplay. She shouldn't be any trouble. She's a big woman, but she doesn't eat much and she's quite respectable — won't dance on the table or anything. Tell him we'll be arriving sometime Thursday morning. Mind you don't forget.'

Gilbert rang off.

* * * *

'Really, George, the man was insufferably rude.'

'Obviously thought you were a housemaid.'

'That makes it no better.'

'Well, you should have told him no.'

'He didn't give me a chance. And it's getting out of hand. First there were to be two of these film persons, then three, now four.'

'At least they're all friends together. It's you that's turning it into a confounded house party by bringing in outsiders at the same time.'

'My cousin can hardly be referred to as an outsider.'

'She is to Haggermeir and Co. And her husband is to all of us. Even Cecily's virtually a stranger to me; I only met her two or three times.'

Gerry, who was sitting by doing a crossword puzzle, looked up. 'I remember hearing you mention cousin Cecily years ago, but I don't exactly know who she is.'

'She's the daughter of my Aunt Amelia, mother's sister. Aunt Amelia was considered to have married beneath her. She died when Cecily was born. Her father brought her up and she never had much to do with us - her father moved in rather different circles from us. But she came to stay sometimes. Later on she decided to go on the stage. She didn't make much of a success of it, and ended up in a chorus line. Lived a rather fast sort of life, I believe - stage door johnnies, and so on. Which naturally was quite beyond the pale to my mother. She decided we wouldn't have anything more to do with Cecily. But I still met her occasionally in town. Your father and I were engaged by then, and one weekend 1 brought her to see Alderley. Then a few months later her father died and she told me that as she had nothing to keep her here she was going to try her luck in Australia. I had some letters from her over the next few years. She said she was doing quite well on the stage. Eventually she told me she was getting married - to a sheep farmer. I can't remember his surname, so I don't know what hers is now. She was going to send me her new address, but she didn't do so and I've never heard from her since - until now.'

'You'll certainly have masses to talk about,' Gerry said.

Lord Burford gave a grunt. 'Well, as long as no one expects me to talk to this husband about sheep, I don't mind. I'm going to be fully occupied with Rex and Haggermeir. Stupid creatures.'

Gerry grinned. 'Rex and Haggermeir?'

'No — sheep. Anyone seen my copy of
Photoplay
?' He went to the other side of the room and started vaguely picking up cushions.

Gerry said, 'Mummy, did you remember her husband's
first
name?'

'No; fortunately, Cecily supplied it - Sebastian. I wonder what he'll be like. And what can I do with him all weekend?'

'I don't expect he'll be any trouble: a stable for his kangaroo, an open space to practice his boomerang throwing, plenty of billabongs to eat—'

'Don't be silly, Geraldine. It's just that sort of facetiousness that irritates colonials - quite justifiably.'

'Sorry. You mean you don't want him to be unoccupied all weekend?'

'Well, I can see your father monopolising this Ransom man, and I can't imagine Sebastian having a lot in common with Mr Haggermeir or the Gilbert person.'

'So you'd like there to be additional manpower here?'

'It might be convenient.'

'Mm.' Gerry was silent for a moment. Then she said, 'Excuse me,' and left the room.

She was back in ten minutes. 'Problem solved,' she announced. 'Paul Carter and Hugh Quartus are both willing to help out.'

'Lady Burford jerked her head up. 'You've invited them both — for this weekend?'

'Yes. Wasn't it lucky they were free?'

'Really, Geraldine! That's very naughty of you.'

'But you said you wanted extra manpower.'

'One extra man - not two. And certainly not two who are almost strangers to me.'

'It doesn't matter if they're strangers to you. They're not coming to amuse you. I've made it clear that their main function will be to entertain my wild colonial second-cousin-in-law-once-removed Sebastian. It was necessary to invite both because we don't know what he's like. Now, Paul can discuss lowbrow things like sport and the London shows, and Hugh can talk about literature and art. Paul can play him at billiards, Hugh at chess. You ought to be grateful you have a daughter who can supply a man for every occasion.'

* * *

Paul Carter put the receiver down and gave vent to a loud whoop of joy.

It had to be a good sign. It had to be. True, it was short notice to be invited for a weekend - almost as though he was a last-minute addition. But he
had
been invited. It must mean something - other than merely helping with the Australian relative.

He'd been rather uneasy lately about Gerry. At one time things had been hunky-dory between them. Then she'd seemed to cool off and he'd started to have horrible misgivings.

But now this. Glorious Alderley. A long weekend with Gerry. And surely a chance to win her. She must at the very least be meaning to give him that opportunity — an opportunity when she would be free from the presence of that twerp Quartus.

* * * *

Hugh Quartus hung up and stood gazing at the telephone, a suspicious frown on his pale, slender-featured face. His dark, deep-set eyes were thoughtful.

Why now, at this late date, had she asked him? Was he a replacement for somebody who'd cried off? No - she must know dozens of socially gifted young toffs, who would fill that bill much better than be would. Like that rotter Carter.

So why? For there was certainly more to this invitation than met the eye. She didn't really want him to entertain this Australian cousin.

Hugh ran a thin hand through his rather long black hair. What was the matter with the confounded girl? Hot - cold, on - off, yes - no. She was really infuriating. He just didn't know why lie bothered.

Yes, he did. He knew quite well.

Not that he had any real chance. Once or twice he'd thought there was a glimmer of hope. But they always seemed to end up bickering.

He wished now he'd refused the invitation. He had half a mind to call back and tell her he'd forgotten a prior engagement. There'd be no pleasure in the visit. The bucolic Australian cousin sounded utterly grim. That idiot film star would be preening himself all over the place. He'd seen a Rex Ransom film once. Never again. Gerry hadn't said who the other guests would be; no doubt they'd all be equally ghastly.

One thing held him back from cancelling. Curiosity. He had to find out why she'd invited him. Though he was going to hate every minute of it. The only consolation was that the fact she'd asked him certainly meant she wouldn't be seeing Carter for a few days.

Chapter Four

Thursday dawned bright, crisp and very cold, with a coating of frost silvering the lawns of Alderley and tracing fantastic opaque patterns on the windows. A thin layer of ice covered the lake.

In the house the atmosphere at breakfast was markedly strained. The Earl - nervous as a schoolboy at the prospect of meeting his idol - managed only one egg, two rashers of bacon and three slices of toast. Gerry, who, at the last minute, had been beset by Terrible Doubts as to the wisdom of inviting her two beaux at the same time, spoke hardly at all; while the Countess was feeling decidedly disgruntled at the prospect of entertaining eight people, all of whom had been more or less foisted upon her.

After breakfast the Earl decided to try and calm himself by spending half an hour with his beloved gun collection. On his way upstairs he encountered Merryweather.

He stopped. Ah - everything ready for the guests?'

'Quite ready, my lord.'

'Where you puttin' people?'

A close observer would have noticed a momentary expression of astonishment appear on the butler's impassive and august features, it being the first time in thirty years that Lord Burford had taken the remotest interest in domestic matters.

'You wish me to appraise you of the disposition of guests in relation to sleeping accommodation, my lord?'

'That's it.'

'Well, my lord, Mr Haggermeir is in the Cedar bedroom, Mr Ransom in the Grey, Mr Gilbert in the Blue—'

'Who's Mr Gilbert?'

'Mr Arlington Gilbert.'

'Oh, yes, of course. Go on.'

'Miss Bradshaw and her husband in the Oak, Mr Carter in the White next door, the secretary person in the Regency, and Mr Quartus in the Green.'

'No one in the Royal suite.'

'No, my lord. It is not usually occupied except by special guests.'

'But we've got a special guest! Mr Ransom.'

Merryweather closed his eyes. 'Your lordship is not suggesting we should accommodate an
actor
in the Royal Suite?'

'Not
an
actor, Merryweather — a Great Star. Why not?'

'May I ask, my lord, if this is also her ladyship's wish?'

'Not exactly. You think she'd object?'

'It's hardly for me to say, my lord. But I should recommend that your lordship consult with her before taking such a radical step.'

Lord Burford rubbed his chin. 'P'raps you're right. Very well, better leave it.'

He moved off. Merryweather breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Paul's manservant, Albert, brought him his early tea at six-thirty in his Park Lane flat. After drinking it, Paul rose, donned a track suit, and went for his usual run in the park. By the time he'd returned, glowing with health, and had shaved and showered, Albert had his breakfast ready. Paul sat down to eat it, saying, ' Better pack my traps now. And put my running kit in. May do a hit of cross-country training.'

By the time he'd finished breakfast, Albert had stowed the cases in the car. Paul gave him a few last minute instructions - he had decided not to take Albert with him on this occasion - and by eight o'clock was on the road. He'd be at Alderley comfortably before lunch. And then for a long, long weekend with Gerry.

'Happy days are here again,' Paul carolled lustily as he drove.

* * *

Hugh Quartus groaned thickly as the alarm clock clanged stridently a few inches from his ear. Without opening his eyes, he reached out an arm and knocked it from the table. It stopped. He lay still, trying to remember why he had set it. He usually slept till he woke. So there must be something important on this morning.

Then it came to him. Alderley. Oh, lor!

Hugh dragged himself out of bed, staggered to the washbasin, splashed tepid water over his face, shaved, and ran a comb through his hair. He made some tea, cut and ate a couple of thick slices of bread and jam, shoved some clothes and a few necessities into an old army kit-bag, and wrapped his only decent lounge suit in brown paper. Like it or lump it, they'd have to put up with one of their guests not wearing formal dress in the evenings.

Next he filled a Thermos flask with tea, dressed in two pairs of socks, thick corduroy trousers, three sweaters and his old, moth-eaten fur-lined flying jacket, and went down to the lock-up garage he rented.

He opened it and wheeled out his motorcycle and sidecar. He threw his luggage into the sidecar and took from it a scarf, goggles, cap and gauntlets. These donned, he was ready. Wrapped up though he was, it was going to be a fearfully cold trip. He was tempted, even at this stage, to go by train. But no; this way he'd have independence of movement. Without the bike, he'd be stuck in the heart of the country and utterly reliant on his hosts for transportation. Besides, he'd save a few shillings this way - always an important consideration.

The superbly tuned engine of the little motor-bike started at first kick. It really had been a bargain, this machine.

Hugh remembered he hadn't washed the breakfast things or made the bed. They'd be waiting for him when he got back.

Something else to look forward to.

* * *

It was a little after eleven o'clock when Merryweather threw open the big double doors of the morning room at Alderley and announced, 'Mr and Mrs Sebastian Everard.'

Thankful at last to know her cousin's surname, Lady Burford went forward to greet her.

The woman who led the way into the room was small, somewhat plump, had a round, good-natured face and blonde hair done in lots of small tight curls. She stopped, staring at Lady Burford, her head tilted to one side. There was something birdlike about her.

'Lavinia?'

'Cecily?'

'My dear, how lovely! You're looking wonderful.'

'And you, Cecily.'

They kissed. Lady Burford said, 'You remember George?'

'Why, of course.' Cecily turned and presented her cheek as the Earl stepped forward. He brushed it with his lips, a little uncertainly.

'Well, well, well,' he said, 'this is splendid. Splendid,' he added dogmatically, as though someone had contradicted him.

Cecily said, 'And this is my husband, Sebastian.'

Sebastian Everard was slight and thin, with a round, clean-shaven pink face and a bland expression. He smiled. 'How - how - how de do?' He spoke in an exaggerated drawl, offering a limp hand to the Earl and Countess. 'Jolly - jolly decent of you to ask us.'

'Delighted to have you,' Lord Burford said.

'Really? Oh, jolly good.' He gave an amiable titter, gazing round the room vaguely at the same time.

'Now, George,' Lady Burford said briskly, 'why don't you give, er, Sebastian a drink? Cecily and I have a lot to talk about. There'll be some coffee shortly and if I remember rightly that's what she'll prefer.' She led her cousin to a chair by the fireplace.

'Thank you, dear.' Cecily said. 'Now, there's so much I want to hear about you and George and Geraldine. And you must bring me up to date on twenty-five years of gossip. I want to know all about Lucy and the twins and Margaret and Reggie and Bobo and the Pearsons - and, oh, dozens of people.'

'My, that's a tall order.'

Lord Burford meanwhile had plucked at Sebastian's elbow. 'Come across here and let me pour you something.'

'What? Oh. Right. Jolly good.' He followed the Earl across to a sideboard where drinks were laid out. 'What'll you have?'

'Oh.' Sebastian frowned. 'Don't know, really.'

'Sherry?'

'Jolly good.'

Lord Burford poured and handed Sebastian a glass.

'Cheers.'

'Oh, yes, rather.'

They drank. There was a pause. Lord Burford cleared his throat. 'Chilly today.'

'Oh, rather.'

'Good drive down?'

'Jolly good.'

'Capital.' There was another silence. The Earl said, 'Er, I keep a few sheep.'

'Really? Oh, jolly good.' Sebastian peered out through the window, as though expecting to see them dotted about the lawn.

'Oh, not personally, of course. At the home farm. Have a good man running it. Must admit I find 'em rather irritatin' creatures. No offence, I hope?'

'No, no, not at all.'

'Always getting lost in the snow or caught in hedges, lambing at the most inconvenient time of the year. No doubt you feel quite different about 'em.'

'Well, I - I haven't given it a lot of thought, actually.'

'Really? You surprise me. I imagined it would be unavoidable.'

'No, never found it necessary. Partial - partial to the odd chop, don't you know. And useful for insomnia, eh, eh?'

'Countin' them jumping over a fence, you mean? Even that doesn't work with me. They always refuse to jump. Not that I'm often troubled by sleeplessness. Clear conscience, I suppose. How many thousand you got?'

The nearest thing so far to animation or surprise came over Sebastian's face. 'How - how - how many thousands?'

'Just roughly.'

'Oh.' He stared at his sherry glass. 'Don't know, really.'

'But you must count your stock sometimes.'

'Count? No. I get statements from the bank and my jolly old accountant keeps tabs on my position.'

Lord Burford's eye bulged. 'Your accountant counts your sheep for you?'

Sebastian blinked. 'Oh, no. Thought you meant money. I don't own any sheep.'

You don't? You mean you ain't a sheep farmer?'

'Oh, no. Not at all. Never. Sorry.' He smiled.

'Great Scott! I could have sworn . . .' He turned and raised his voice a little. 'Lavinia, you said Sebastian here was a sheep farmer. He's nothin' of the sort.'

Cecily said gently, 'Oh, I'm sorry. I should have explained. It was Philip, my first husband, who was the sheep farmer. He died many years ago. Sebastian's not even an Australian. He was just visiting when we met. But then he decided to stay on.'

The entry of Gerry at that moment caused a welcome diversion. After introductions she said, 'Well, I suppose you know all about our expected VIP guest?'

'No, dear,' Cecily said. 'Who's that?'

'The great Rex Ransom, no less.'

'The film star? Really? How exciting. Did you hear that, Sebastian?'

'Oh, rather. Jolly good. When - when's he expected to arrive?'

'The train should be getting in to Alderley Halt in about five minutes. Hawkins has gone to meet it in the Rolls. Actually, there's quite a party of film people coming, isn't there, Daddy?'

Lord Burford nodded happily. 'Biggest thing to happen at Alderley since Queen Victoria stayed here in 1852.'

'Jolly good,' said Sebastian.

* * *

By the time Hugh reached Alderley village at about eleven-thirty and started on the final stage to the house he was stiff with cold. This last part of the journey did nothing to improve his mood. The estate was surrounded by a positive network of narrow lanes, and like all of them the one he had to follow wound irritatingly, several times approaching to within a mile of the house, which could be clearly glimpsed through the trees. Then the lane would suddenly turn away, without apparent reason, on another long detour.

Hugh's mind was filled with thoughts of blazing fires and hot coffee, and as bend followed bend he became more and more frustrated and began to push his machine ever faster.

At last he reached the final bend before the straight stretch of wider road that ran past the entrance to the drive leading up to the house. He twisted the throttle grip, leaning over so that the wheels of the sidecar actually left the ground.

One thing, however, which he had not allowed for was the heavy overnight frost that had resulted in icy roads. Until he'd reached the village he'd been travelling on main roads, on which grit had been laid. But this twisting, little-used lane had not been treated.

Suddenly Hugh felt the bike start to slip from under him. The next moment he found himself rolling over and over on the road. It seemed as though he was never going to stop. But eventually he did, and when his head had cleared he sat dizzily up.

After a few seconds he decided he wasn't hurt and got unsteadily to his feet. Suddenly he no longer felt cold. He walked over to his cycle and sidecar, which were apparently undamaged. Hugh tried to get the contraption upright. But it was heavy and his feet kept slipping on the still icy surface.

He was making another attempt when he heard a car approaching from around the bend. It had the deep-throated roar of an expensive sports model. Hugh started to run towards the bend. But his feet went from under him again. By the time he'd scrambled up, a long, low scarlet drop-head tourer had appeared round the curve.

Hugh yelled and waved his arms. He saw the driver brake and the car start to skid. Hugh threw himself to one side, and in a graceful spin the sportscar's nearside rear wheel went over the front wheel of the motorcycle.

* * *

Paul felt the bump and a horrible crunching clatter. Then the car had stopped and there was a great calm. He got hastily out and saw that the front wheel of the motorcycle was badly buckled. The driver, only his nose showing between goggles and scarf, was standing on the grassy shoulder, staring mutely at the wreckage.

Paul walked towards him. 'I say, old man, I'm most frightfully sorry—'

Without taking his eyes from his injured machine, the motorcyclist raised both arms skywards in a gesture of fury and shouted, 'You reckless imbecile!'

Paul said, 'Now, steady on. I only—'

'
You only
? You only wrecked my—' He looked at Paul for the first time and stopped short. '
You
?' he said.

Paul felt a sudden chill of alarm. He said, 'What?'

'Carter! What are you doing here?'

'I'm afraid I don't—'

The other suddenly tore off his goggles and scarf, and Paul's eyes widened. 'Quartus! Hullo. I didn't recognise you in that get- up.'

'I said, what are you doing here?' Hugh snapped. His face was white.