Their departure from Bramley was not wholly without incident. Getting Janine off in time to catch the London train occupied some time. It was always difficult, Hedda said, to get Janine out of the house before midday, and so it proved. For some time she could not be found, and when finally discovered she proved to be in a state of curious excitement, and was unwilling to accompany her husband. Her excitement baffled both Hedda and Applegate, for it was plainly unconnected with intoxication. She was simply unwilling to leave Bramley.
Since Gaggleswick had particularly asked for Mrs Pont to accompany her husband, however, Hedda was firm. On the railway platform Jeremy discovered that he had no money, and Applegate lent him four pounds. The depressive interview between them was forgotten, and mania evidently again in the ascendant, as he waved furiously from the train window. Opposite him Janine, an impressive statue, wig perfectly in place, sat with closed eyes.
Deverell had moved out to the Bramley Arms, but Maureen followed them around. She complained indignantly that she would be left alone for lunch, and that anyway there was nothing to eat. She refused to be taken in to Murdstone with them, stating her intention of walking five miles over to Thirlwell, where there were some much-decayed fortifications built against the threat of Napoleonic invasion to be seen. She was quite happy when allowed to make some enormously thick corned beef sandwiches. Corned beef, forbidden by Brooker-Timla but occasionally smuggled in by Hedda from the village shop, was apparently her favourite food. She stood beside the iron-studded door waving a fat hand as they drove away.
They had plenty of time to get into Murdstone, but when they were halfway there the engine hiccuped and died. While Applegate stood by helplessly, Hedda fiddled angrily with the engine, snapping words over her shoulder. “Screwdriver. Smaller one. Not that, stupid. One with the black handle.”
Her temper was not improved by the fact that it was Applegate who discovered the cause of the stoppage when, ashamed of his inactivity, he looked at the petrol gauge and saw that it was below zero. Fortunately, Hedda carried a spare can, but the fact that he had made the discovery infuriated her nevertheless. She drove into Murdstone with furious disregard of road rules, and at a bend they had to swerve violently to avoid a green lorry.
“That’s funny.”
“What?” Her voice was grim.
“I’m almost sure Barney Craigen was driving that lorry. And Arthur was with him.”
Hedda merely grunted. The car drew up, smelling slightly of burning rubber, before the Grand Marine Hotel at ten minutes to one, and Hedda went away to wash. As she came into MERICAN AR afterwards, Applegate, seeing her for the first time in a skirt, saw with regret that she had very thick legs. Ignoring the legs, however, if you could ignore the legs, the green coat and skirt suited her excellently. Above it her blue eyes shone with their customary bright yet vacant light. The brightness was perhaps enhanced at sight of the whisky sour waiting for her.
She took her place on one of the high, uncomfortable red-leather stools and said to the barman: “What’s new?”
“Very little down here, and that’s a fact.” He held up the glass he was polishing.
“Mr Jenks been in?” Applegate asked. “Tall, thin–”
“I know Mr Jenks. And his friend who only drinks tonic because gin might go to his head. Often in, but not this morning. Staying to lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Leave the rump steak alone. Tough as old boots. And don’t touch the stewed beef, it’s horse. Try the lobster. Not much they can do to lobster. I mean, either it is or it isn’t.”
“You’re right there,” Hedda said. “Have a drink.”
“Just one little snort before lunch, I don’t mind if I do. A drop of gin and pep to settle the old t-u-m. Here’s how.”
Hedda said thoughtfully: “Here’s how. Seen anything of another friend of ours, very big man, gold teeth, was in here a night or two ago?”
“Barney, you mean. Have I not seen him? Without Barney this bar might as well shut up. Set your watch by him. On the doorstep every day at opening time. Had his right arm in a sling today, said he sprained his elbow last night. ‘Well, Barney,’ I said, ‘as long as you’ve got just one arm that can raise a glass you’re all right.’ You’ve missed him by – oh, quarter of an hour. Wasn’t quite himself today.”
Applegate glanced at Hedda. It had been Barney with the gun. “Does he come in alone?”
“Sometimes he’s with Miss Delaney, lives up at the water tower. Sometimes with Mr Jenks’ side-kick, you know, the soda-pop kid.”
“Arthur.”
“Arthur, that’s right. Very thick, Barney and Arthur. Don’t know that Mr Jenks is best pleased. Takes all sorts to make a world, I always say.” The barman rolled his eyes. “Good morning, sir. What’ll it be?”
Jenks came hurrying towards them, his mincing walk almost a trot. “I’ve been caught up in a conference. So nice to see you again, Charles. Miss Pont, do pray accept my apologies, and have a drink.”
Jenks was positively gushing. While they had a drink with him he talked in a manner that Applegate remembered as uncharacteristic. The anxious expression was still there, horizontal bars of worry still marked his forehead, but the total impression was of a distracted gaiety. And his subject matter, the weather, the quietness of Murdstone out of the season, the pleasure he would feel in getting away when his business here was done, was hardly inspiring. Applegate began to think that they might, after all, be in for a very dull lunch.
When they were at the table, in a great cold empty room overlooking the sea, he said: “Does business include the attack on me last night?”
Jenks’ eyelids fluttered. “That was a complete misunderstanding.”
“You mean it was Shalson they were after. How is Barney today, by the way? I hear he’s got his arm in a sling.”
“He had a little accident. These things will happen.” A very old waiter tottered towards them. With relief Jenks said: “Shall we order? What do you recommend today?”
“What’s that, sir?” The waiter put hand to ear.
“I said what do you recommend, what is good?” Jenks’ voice, though raised, was still precise.
“Oh, yes, all good, all very good. The steak’s very good.”
“Lobster,” said Hedda and Applegate together. Jenks looked slightly surprised. “I shall have the steak,” he said.
The old man nodded, grinning foolishly, and was tottering away when Jenks said to them without enthusiasm: “A bottle of something, or is it too early in the day?”
“Not at all,” Applegate said firmly. “Waiter,” he shouted. The old man clapped hand to ear and turned with an appalled face. “The wine list,” Applegate roared. Hedda looked at him admiringly.
“Immediately, sir. There’s no need to shout.”
Jenks looked at the wine list unhappily. “Will you leave it to me? A bottle of – ah – number twenty-seven.”
“Thirty-seven, sir?”
“
Twenty-seven
,” Jenks said, alarmed. Thirty-seven, obviously, was expensive.
“With steak, sir,” the waiter said reproachfully.
“White wine with steak.”
“I abominate drinking at midday,” Jenks said passionately. “For myself, of course. My stomach.”
“Why do you want Shalson out of the way?” Applegate asked. “What harm can he do you?”
Jenks crumbled a roll with his long fingers and made it into neat pellets. “Charles is so direct, isn’t he, don’t you find that?”
“I’m pretty direct myself,” Hedda said. “So it doesn’t worry me.”
“Those of us accustomed to the – ah, niceties of diplomacy–”
“Come on now,” Applegate said. “You weren’t all that diplomatic when you were poking a gun into my back. Why are you all so worried about Shalson?”
“Shalson is really not a nice man. You might go so far as to say that he is ruthless. I shouldn’t get mixed up with Shalson, if I were you.” He looked at his wristwatch and then out through the window at the slate-grey sea. Two distant puffs of smoke indicated ships. Delicate spears of rain slanted down at the pavements. It occurred to Applegate that Jenks was nervous. The waiter brought three plates of thick brown cornflour soup.
“Shalson told Charles a good many interesting things,” Hedda said. “We understand the situation pretty clearly now.”
Jenks looked from one to the other of them with his anxious eyes. “What did he tell you?”
Applegate tipped some of the soup into his mouth. It tasted slightly like brown glue. “You were passing on information during the war to a German agent named Holmstetter. I thought you told me you had nothing to do with Bogue after the thirties.”
“You lied about that,” Hedda said flatly.
Jenks smiled wanly. “I am a devotee of truth, my dear young lady, but sometimes it is foolish to tell the complete truth.”
“He told us – Charles – about Bogue’s fortune,” Hedda said boldly.
“What did he tell you?” Jenks pushed aside his soup. One hand crept up to the red spot on his cheek.
“Where it was.”
“And what it was,” Applegate improvised.
“Did he now?” Jenks’ tone was almost playful. “That was very kind of Shalson. Perhaps you’d tell me. Where is it, and what is it?” They were silent. “No, no, my children, I’m not sheep enough to have that kind of wool pulled over my eyes. I doubt if Shalson knows enough himself to be able to tell you anything important. Shalson is
not
reliable.”
“You told me yourself that what you wanted was your share of Bogue’s fortune,” Applegate said.
“Perfectly true, my dear Charles.” Almost kittenishly he added: “I didn’t say what or where the fortune was.”
The waiter moved slowly towards them. “Mr Jinks, Mr Jinks,” he quavered, looking round the room under the apparent impression that there were other people in it.
Jenks, half out of his chair, was dabbing at his lips with his napkin. “Yes, yes.”
The old man looked at him with dim surprise.
“The telephone.”
Placing one foot daintily before another, yet manifestly hurrying, Jenks crossed the room. While he was away Hedda exhorted Applegate to some kind of action.
“You don’t get
at
him. Really say something to him where it hurts. What is he but an old queen, after all? Slug Monahan would have run him ragged by this time.”
“I’m not Slug Monahan.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Was he your boxer friend? The one who used you as a punching-bag?”
She nodded. There was a wistful look on her face. “Sometimes I regret him. With Slug you saw life.”
“I’m sorry you don’t think you’re seeing it with me. I’ll arrange for you to be shot at next time.” Stepping daintily, wriggling sinuously, Jenks recrossed the room. He gave them a shy, sly smile. “Awfully sorry. An old friend who is coming into town. Someone I’ve been expecting. A little business matter, you know. He will be here in half an hour.”
“I thought it might be Arthur,” Hedda said. “I’d been longing to meet Arthur. I only saw him that night in here, but I thought he was cute with his little razor. He
is
cute, isn’t he?” Jenks looked down his long nose. “Tell me, have you made provision for Arthur when you get your share of the money?”
“I love Arthur like a son,” Jenks said smugly.
“But then you loved Montague like a brother,” Applegate pointed out.
“Poor Frankie.” Jenks looked out to sea and smirked slightly. There was silence while they attacked the food. Attack was indeed the word. The barman’s remark that there was little you could do to lobster had made no allowance for the fact that you can freeze it. Reposing in their shells the lobsters looked attractive enough. This appearance was deceptive. They resisted easily the first gentle approach with fish knife and fork, and Applegate was driven to digging his fork in and pulling savagely at the flesh. Thus torn from its moorings the lobster revenged itself by proving absolutely tasteless. It was with some pleasure that he saw Jenks sawing away vainly at the edges of his steak. The wine, by some accident, was quite drinkable. Applegate used it to wash down strings of lobster.
“What did you really bring us here for?” Hedda asked abruptly.
Jenks choked slightly on a piece of steak. “What?”
“You said you wanted to have a talk. What about? So far you haven’t told us anything.”
“Really, you’re awfully direct too. Such a pair.”
“If you’ve got a proposition to make, let’s hear it.”
“Not exactly a proposition.” Jenks wriggled, and looked at his wristwatch again. His anxious eyes stared seawards. “Eileen was really cross with this young man. She was quite in favour of some strong action being taken. I was able to dissuade her.”
“Being shot at is quite strong enough action for me.”
“I told Eileen you were not unfriendly, only curious. I like curiosity, I am curious myself. But just at the moment your curiosity cannot be allowed. It is a nuisance to us and a danger to yourselves.”
Hedda began to hum “Tell me the Old, Old Story.” Upon Jenks’ pale cheeks there showed a touch of pink. “No more than a nuisance, believe that, since you are far from realising the true position. We have been waiting, some of us, years for this time, and we shall not be stopped by a couple of children still, as the vulgar saying goes, wet behind the ears.”
“Has Shalson?” Applegate asked.
“What?”
“Has Shalson been waiting years for this time too?”
“We shall look after him when the time comes. But what you two need is a few days’ holiday. You are not needed any longer at the school. Take a week off
.
Fly to Italy, Venice, Rome, Florence. The masterpieces of art, what an opportunity to see them. And then you will have each other. Or to Paris if you like. Paris in the spring, ah, me. What wouldn’t I give to be your ages again.” Jenks kissed the tips of his long fingers. “And not a penny to pay. We will look after everything, Eileen and I. We are not rich, but you will find us generous. Just for a week. Then you will return, we shall have gone, our very existence will seem a mere dream. What do you say?”
“Really, you’re a most immoral old man,” Hedda said. “It’s not the things you say, it’s the way you say them.”