The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (36 page)

Gerry said, 'But I don't understand. This isn't—' She broke off with a gasp. 'It is! It's you!'

Rex bowed. He raised a hand to his head, pulled at the thick blonde hair, and it came away to reveal a gleaming, egg-like pate. Hugh and Gerry goggled at him.

Rex jerked a finger at the photograph. 'The other object I am holding is, I regret to say, my girdle. I'd just taken it off.'

'All she was threatening to publish was this?' Hugh said incredulously.

'All? You're joking! Can't you imagine the effect that could have on my career? The romantic, swashbuckling hero wears a wig and a girdle? I'd be a laughing stock. It'd finish me.'

Gerry said, 'Yes, I can see. Golly, no wonder your manner was so odd that night!'

'I was in a terrible state. I could see my whole world crumbling. When I first had the brush with the intruder I couldn't be sure what was behind it. It might be blackmail, or just a hoax. Even when I discovered - as I believed - that it was Gilbert, I still hoped he might just be a pathological snooper. I confronted him, but I couldn't accuse him straight out. If he hadn't thought of blackmail, I didn't want to let him realise there were grounds for it. But he was apparently scared, too. Then he said he was leaving and it seemed important to stop him. I thought it less likely he'd have the nerve to apply the squeeze while we were under the same roof. I used a little blackmail myself, threatened to see he didn't script
The King's Man
. I even made up a lot of hogwash about Cyrus's attorneys questioning the copyright situation. All I really knew was that Cyrus had mentioned he'd forgotten to check on who held the rights. Anyway, it seemed to work. He agreed to stay, if you okayed it, Gerry, and apparently climbed down. I decided that I'd either misjudged his motive or that he'd thought better of it. By that night I figured I was in the clear, which made the shock of finding that photo and the note in my room all the greater. I was in a real stew. Even if I paid and got the negative back, how could I be sure that dozens of prints hadn't already been made? I could see myself paying through the nose for years.'

Hugh frowned. 'But now you're quite prepared to have the photo published. Why the change?'

'In the picture gallery earlier I suddenly got nauseous at the lie I was living. I decided to face up to what I am: middle-aged, fat and bald. I don't care who knows it. It's a tremendous relief.'

'But your acting career?' Gerry said.

'My acting career is finished. I'm getting out.'

'What will you do?'

'Something I've had a hankering to do for many years: direct. I've got a story all lined up, too. Arlington's going to do the screenplay.'

'Mr Gilbert?' Gerry exclaimed.

'Yeah. We've had a long talk. He's not at all a bad guy underneath the bluster. He started all that rudeness when he was successful, as a sort of gimmick. And he's had to keep it up so people wouldn't guess he'd fallen on hard times. Oh, and by the way, I've explained to him about you and your hoax, Gerry.'

'How did he take it?'

'He laughed. I think it was quite an effort, but he managed it eventually. Anyway, whatever his faults, he's a first-class screenwriter. I've spoken to Cyrus and he's willing to give us a chance.'

Hugh looked surprised. 'You've patched up your quarrel, then?'

'Heck, yes. That was nothing. We've both apologised and shaken hands. He even borrowed two hundred pounds from me, though I don't know what he wanted it for. He's quite enthusiastic about the story idea; particularly as he's gotten a sort of personal interest in it, as you have, too, Gerry.'

'Me? What
is
the story?'

Hugh said, 'Good heavens, it's not a murder mystery based on this weekend?'

'Not likely! Who'd believe it? No, I'm going to make a movie called
The Adventures of Aylwin Saunders
. And I've an old rival and buddy of mine in mind for the lead. I hear he's thinking of changing studios.'

Gerry whispered, 'Not — not . . . ?'

'Yes,' Rex said. 'Errol Flynn. Who else?'

* * *

'Gower?' said the Earl. 'Yes, know him slightly. Eccentric, naturally, like all Welshmen. Collects coins. And he fanatical it seems. Can't see the appeal myself. And he gets these old crazes for things, jazz or breeding rabbits or something. They never last, apparently. Strange way to behave. Vague sort of fellow, too, terribly absentminded. Nice chap, though. Very amiable. Fine old family, of course.'

'So you approve, George? And you won't put any obstacles in their way?'

'Whose way?'

'Geraldine and Hugh.'

'Oh, no, course not. When did I ever put an obstacle in anyone's way? Gerry'll get engaged to whomever she wants, whatever I say. But I suppose she could have done worse. He can be an arrogant young puppy, but he's shown he's made of the right stuff. Only trouble is, I fancy he'll actually expect to marry her.'

'What on earth do you mean? Of course he expects to marry her.'

'She assured me that wasn't the idea at all. Still, if I give him my permission to do either or both, that'll be all right, won't it?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, George.'

At that moment there came a tap on the door.

'Oh, he's a little soon,' Lady Burford said. 'I'll leave you.' She crossed to the door and opened it to find not Hugh, but Cyrus Haggermeir, on the other side. She said, 'Oh.'

'Sorry to interrupt, ma'am. Just wanted to say I'll be leaving shortly. Can I have a word first?'

The Earl raised his eyebrows. 'Yes, of course. Come in.'

Haggermeir did so, closing the door behind him. He said, 'I owe you both an apology.'

'Yes, you do,' Lady Burford said.

'Well, I make it here and now. I behaved badly. I admit it freely. And that's something Cyrus Haggermeir don't often do. I hope you'll accept the apology.'

The Earl cleared his throat. 'Well, that's very handsome. We'll say no more about it. Er,
bon voyage
and all that.'

'Thanks. But there's more. I ain't quite given up. I just been having a word with your butler.'

'With Merryweather?' the Countess said, surprised.

'Yeah. Told him I had reason to believe there may be something in this house that once belonged to my grandmother. I described the casket, told him that you knew nothing about it, but you'd said that if it is here I'd be more than welcome to it. I told him to put it round among the servants that there's a two hundred pound reward for anyone who finds it and brings it to me - either here and now or at my hotel. I'll be staying on a couple more weeks in England. I figured one of them might just have seen it around. Wanted to put you in the picture.'

The Earl said dryly, 'Suppose
I
offer four hundred to anyone who brings it to me?'

'Don't reckon you'd do that, Earl, not after the Countess said I could have it. Wouldn't be exactly, er, cricket, would it?'

'I'm not so sure I'd worry about that if I stood to lose the Earldom. However, I'm pretty confident I won't have to.' He chuckled.

Just then the door opened. It was Merryweather. He advanced towards them, bearing a silver salver. He said, 'Excuse me, my lady.'

Then they saw that resting on the salver was a small wooden box, brightly painted with an intricate design of Chinese dragons. It was about six inches by five, and four inches deep.

'Would this be the object you wanted, sir?' said Merryweather.

Haggermeir gave a cry of disbelief and sprang towards him. He snatched up the casket and turned it between his fingers. He whispered: 'It must be! It must be!' He opened the box and started desperately probing at the interior. The Earl and Countess watched with bated breath.

But nothing happened. Haggermeir started muttering angrily to himself. Then Merryweather gave a discreet cough.

'Might this be what you are searching for, sir? It was concealed in the false bottom.'

He took from his pocket a folded sheet of ancient, yellowed paper, which he handed to Haggermeir.

Haggermeir gave a strangled gasp. With shaking fingers he unfolded the paper. For a moment he stood perfectly still, his eyes scanning it. Then he suddenly gave vent to a deafening howl.

'Yippee!'

His face alight with triumph, he brandished the paper. 'Got it, got it, got it! I was
right
!'

Lord Burford gave a gulp. 'That - that's it?'

'You bet your sweet life it is, Earl. Marriage licence: Aylwin Saunders to Martha Haggermeir, officiating minister Rev. P. Jones, solemnised at the Baptist Church of Last Straw, Calif., date 8th April, 1851. Take a look.'

He held it out for them to see. The Earl and Countess stared at it. Everything Haggermeir had read out was correct.

Lady Burford looked at her husband. 'George, what does it mean? Can it mean that - that . . . ?'

The Earl sat down, a dazed expression on his face. 'I don't know, my dear. It certainly seems that my grandfather's marriage to my grandmother in 1852 was bigamous, and Haggermeir's father was Aylwin's eldest legitimate son and automatically succeeded to the Earldom. That means my father should never have had the title, and neither should I.'

Haggermeir nodded. 'That's about the size of it. Look, I know it's hard on you, but you gotta see the justice of it.'

'But George, surely you're not just going to accept this lying down?' Lady Burford was pale. 'You're going to fight?'

'Well, of course I'll see my solicitor. I honestly don't know what the legal position is, or who decides things like this. Heralds' College? The Courts? I should imagine it's a pretty well unique situation. Of course I'll fight, if I'm told there's a chance.'

'Earl,' Haggermeir said, 'that's exactly what I'd expect you to say. It's what I'd say in your position. But do we have to fight?'

'You're suggesting we should just hand over everything to you and impoverish ourselves completely?' The Countess had regained a little colour and there was a gleam of battle in her eye.

Haggermeir gave a snort. 'I don't want to impoverish you!'

Lord Burford glanced at him sharply. 'You don't?'

'Heck, no! I don't want your money or your estates. Or your London house. Why should I? I got millions. I only want two things. Now, can't we come to an amicable agreement? If we fight it through the courts it could drag on for years and cost us both a fortune. Why make the lawyers rich?'

'Just what are the two things you want?' Lady Burford asked him grimly.

'First, the title. I wanta be the Earl of Burford. Can't you just see it:
The Lord Burford Picture Corporation
? And on the movie credits:
produced by Lord Burford
? That'd make Goldwyn and Warner and the other sit up, eh? Guess I'd have to give up my American citizenship, become a naturalised Britisher. Or perhaps I am legally British already. That's a minor point, though. Anyway, what about it?'

The Earl rubbed his chin. 'Well, I daresay I could live without a title. Wouldn't make any difference to Gerry. Looks as if she's going to be Marchioness of Gower one day, anyway.'

'George, you can't just give away a title!' the Countess exclaimed.

Haggermeir said, 'But, Earl, if you stood up and admitted I was the rightful holder of it and you didn't want it, that'd be bound to make a difference.'

'I - I suppose it might,' the Earl said unhappily.

His wife was gazing at him in disbelief. 'George, you wouldn't do such a thing!'

'I don't know, Lavinia. Perhaps it would be the right thing to do, if Haggermeir's got justice on his side. I don't want to hang on to something that's not rightfully mine. Do you?'

Lady Burford didn't answer. She sat down very slowly beside her husband.

Haggermeir turned away and noticed that Merryweather was still present, his face as impassive as ever.

'Say, I was nearly forgetting.' He reached into his hip pocket, took out a thick wad of banknotes, and handed it to Merryweather. 'Here you are, pal. You sure earned this.'

'I am obliged, sir.' The money disappeared in a flash into Merryweather's waistcoat pocket.

The Earl regarded his butler sadly. 'Oh, Merryweather, what have you done to us?'

'I am exceedingly sorry, my lord. I did not realise until minutes ago just what the situation was. I would, of course, deeply regret causing the family any inconvenience.'

He bowed and silently melted from the room.

The Countess looked at Haggermeir. 'What was the second thing you wanted?'

Haggermeir took a deep breath. 'Alderley.'

The Earl and Countess looked blank. Lord Burford said, 'But you said you didn't want the estate.'

'I don't. Just the house. I aim to take it down brick by brick, ship it across the Atlantic, and rebuild it in Beverly Hills.'

Haggermeir's words seemed to strike both Lord and Lady Burford totally dumb. They sat motionless, their faces masks of utter horror.

Haggermeir went on hurriedly. 'It's technically feasible, I've checked into it. And I wouldn't leave you without a house here. I'd build you a swell modern one on the same site, all electric, air-conditioned, with a pool - everything. No one can say I'm not generous. Now, Earl, this isn't something the law would have to decide. The house is yours to do what you like with. So, whaddaya say?'

'Never!' Lord Burford jumped to his feet, his face red. 'You must be mad if you think I'd let you do such a thing. I'd sooner lose everything else than let Alderley be taken away. Good gad, it's been here nearly three hundred years. What you're suggesting would be vandalism.'

Lady Burford was staring at him in admiration. 'George, I never knew you cared so much.'

'May not talk about it much, Lavinia but I care!'

Haggermeir's face had hardened. 'Get this, Earl. I've been pretty easy in my demands so far. I was prepared to let you off light. But force me to go to the law and I'll go for everything: the title, the estates, everything you inherited. I'll ruin you.'

The Earl took a deep breath. 'Then you'd better try. If we lose everything, so be it. At least we'll go down fighting.'