by Ellery Queen
“That’s my usual fee, as you must know,” Nick said. “The only thing untouched by inflation. But I steal only the valueless—never money or jewels or art treasures.”
“Exactly. And are you available tonight?”
“What do you want stolen?”
“Yesterday’s newspaper. The London Free Press, to be exact.”
“Certainly a valueless item,” Nick agreed. “I’d suggest searching through some of the rubbish barrels around town.”
“I believe the one I need is at the home of Hope Trennis, the actress. Certainly if anyone has one, she has. She’s throwing a party tonight and I was invited weeks ago. You and your lady can be my guests.”
“Wouldn’t she be suspicious?”
“No, no, the party’s to view her film 100 Minutes’ on BBC television tonight. I distributed the film to British theaters last year and she’d expect me to bring guests. She’ll be pleased to see fellow Americans—a great deal more pleased than she’ll be to see me, really. Our relations aren’t too cordial these days.”
“But you’re still going to her party?”
“As I said, I was invited weeks ago, before our falling out.”
“Just where is the newspaper?”
“No idea. Somewhere in the house. In her study safe, if she hasn’t already destroyed it.”
“Why is it so valuable?”
“It wouldn’t be, to anyone but me.”
“You’re telling me that a copy of yesterday’s newspaper is valuable to you only, and that it’s in the possession of Hope Trennis and nobody else?”
“There might be a few other copies around, but I’m sure hers would be the easiest to find.”
“Very well,” Nick agreed. “When do we leave?”
Felix Poland glanced at his watch. “We should be getting along.”
Nick went back to the roulette table where he found Gloria with a new stack of winnings. “This is our lucky night, Nicky!”
“It certainly is. We’re invited to a party.” He started to gather up the chips. “Let’s turn these in.”
“Do we have to?”
“We’ll come back tomorrow. This party might be fun. There’ll be some movie people there.”
“Like who?” she asked suspiciously.
“Hope Trennis, the actress. It’s at her place.”
Gloria’s eyes widened. “Really?”
As Nick cashed in the chips he hoped their luck would hold through the night.
Hope Trennis’ home was an exquisite townhouse within sight of Belgrave Square—the sort with a fireplace in every room and a cluster of quaint chimneys on the roof. Though Hope was an American actress she had resided in London for well over a year—ever since she finished filming the highly successful “100 Minutes.” Nick was hardly a movie fan but he had seen that one, a suspenseful chase film in which the entire action took place during the one-hundred-minute running time of the picture itself. Now, about a year after its London theatrical release, the film was being shown by BBC television.
“It’s generally the type of thing the commercial channel would carry,” Poland explained as they entered the house to be met by a uniformed butler. “But with Hope living here now, she managed to have it shown this once without interruptions.”
Nick and Gloria handed their coats to the butler. “Look at this place, Nicky!” Gloria squealed. “It’s like a palace!”
Nick, who had seen the inside of Buckingham Palace, was less overwhelmed. Still, he had to admit the lady had taste. He was staring up at the multi-tiered chandelier when Hope Trennis herself appeared, sweeping down on them in a cloud of pink chiffon. “You must be one of the BBC gentlemen,” she greeted Nick. “So good of you to come.”
“Actually, I’m—”
“He’s a friend from America,” Felix Poland explained. “Nick Velvet. And this is his wife Gloria.”
Gloria was used to that introduction by now and she didn’t change expression. She was too busy bathing in the vision of Hope Trennis from three feet away. Nick had to admit she was a lovely woman—perhaps a bit older-looking than on the screen, but every bit as charming. Even when she turned to Poland with a brusque “I didn’t expect to see you here,” there was no noticeable bitterness in her words. Whatever had passed between them would not be allowed to ruffle her composure this night.
“Am I still invited?” Poland asked her with a smile.
“Of course. Come in and have a drink before the film gets under way. I promise not to poison you.”
He shot her a look of anger, but she’d already turned away. They followed her into a large living room where perhaps 30 people were chatting in small groups while a maid passed a tray of drinks in the best tradition. “This is really living,” Gloria whispered.
Nick felt a bit like the society thief in those old Raffles books. Glancing at the necklaces and diamond rings adorning the women, he had to remind himself that he’d come to steal nothing more valuable than yesterday’s newspaper.
Hope Trennis led them to a slender man wearing mod glasses and dark hair long enough to cover his ears. “This is my friend Eric Noble from the BBC. You know Felix, Eric, and this is Nick Velvet and his wife Gloria, over from America.”
They shook hands all around and Hope flew off to greet more late arrivals. “Your first visit here?” Noble asked Nick. No doubt it was his stock conversation gambit with visiting Americans.
“No, I was over in ’71.”
Nick lit one of the infrequent cigarettes he’d been indulging in during their vacation, ignoring Gloria’s pained expression.
“You’ll find some things changed since then.” Noble motioned toward the color television set. “I suppose you’ve already seen the film?”
Nick nodded. “We caught it back in the States.”
“I’m a big fan of Hope’s,” Gloria added.
Nick left her to converse with Eric Noble while he took Poland to one side. “Where should I look first? You mentioned a safe in the study. Or should I check the dustbins first?”
His client snorted. “Picking up our British phrases so quickly, Velvet? No, it’s more likely in the safe, or somewhere else in her study. I’m sure she was sent one yesterday morning by a columnist on the paper, and I don’t think she would have destroyed it so soon. Be careful, though. If she discovers you’re after it, she could burn it quickly enough.”
“Don’t worry.”
Hope Trennis was at the front of the room, flanking the television set and calling for attention. “It’s about to begin, ladies and gentlemen. Do be seated. After the show we’ll be serving a buffet supper in the study.”
Nick glanced at his watch as the lights dimmed. 9:15, exactly. That meant the film would end its hundred-minute run at 10:55, since it was playing without interruptions. He wondered why the British TV schedules always seemed so irregular. Nothing would ever begin at 9:15 back home. He settled back in his chair to watch the beginning of “100 Minutes,” keeping an eye on the study door which was slightly ajar. A light was on in there, and he saw the butler and maid pass across his slender line of vision from time to time, preparing the buffet supper for later. He realized he might have no chance to slip into the study unobserved.
The film droned on and he watched a surprisingly agile Hope Trennis scale a board fence while pursued by the villains. She played the middle-aged wife of an important presidential advisor, sought by kidnapers who hoped to force her husband to deliver certain top-secret documents into their hands. It was predictable but exciting.
Nick glanced at the glowing numbers on his digital watch.
9:39.
The light in the study was still on. He had a glimpse of the maid carrying a tray of cups.
On the television screen Hope had eluded her pursuer for the moment and taken refuge in a gas station where she’d met a handsome mechanic. While Gloria watched the screen as if she’d never seen the film before, Nick grew increasingly restless. He was missing the perfect opportunity to sea
rch the study.
9:52.
As the minutes passed he decided the butler and maid intended to remain in the study until supper was served. But then, as if in answer to his silent prayer, the study light went out and the door opened. The servants slipped into the living room to watch the last half of the film.
The time was 10:05.
In the darkness no one but Gloria noticed him leave his chair and slip quietly to the back of the room. For the most part the audience watched the film in polite silence, though occasionally Hope would cause a ripple of laughter with some remark directed to her image. During one suspenseful moment Nick slipped into the darkened study and closed the door. He was certain not even the servants had noticed.
10:08. He turned on the desk lamp and set to work. He had 47 minutes to find the newspaper. Plenty of time.
If it was in the study at all.
10:15.
The desk had yielded nothing, nor had the cabinet with drawers that stood against the far wall. His eyes passed over the fireplace and a crowded bookcase, searching for the most likely hiding place for a safe.
Nick found it behind one of the paintings, in the best British tradition. As he twirled the knob experimentally he really did begin to feel like Raffles, the famous gentleman crook.
The safe was an old one, not very good. But then he wasn’t a very good safecracker, either. He pressed his ear against the cold metal and listened for the sound of the tumblers.
It took him ten minutes to get the first number.
He began to sweat a bit. The time was 10:30. Could he do it in twenty-five minutes?
The second number came at 10:38. He was working close to the line. He heard a cheer go up from the next room and he knew the moment of the grand climax was approaching.
Just a few more minutes. . .
The safe came open at 10:51. Four minutes to spare.
He was reaching inside it just as the door opened and Eric Noble stepped into the study. The man from the BBC eyed him for an instant and quickly closed the door before others could follow. “Well! What have we here?”
The safe held nothing but a satin-covered jewel box. Nick closed the door, spun the dial, and replaced the painting. “Just keeping my hand in,” he said.
“So I noticed.”
The study door opened again and the butler hurried in to complete the food arrangements. The guests were crowding behind him. Nick tried to keep cool. “So the BBC dropped four minutes out of Hope’s triumph?”
“Not at all,” Noble said. “Oh, I see! You were working against the running time of the film. You didn’t know—”
“Food’s ready, everyone,” Hope Trennis announced. “Be sure to pick up a glass of champagne at the end of the table.”
Felix Poland came in with Gloria. He glanced over to where Nick stood, a question in his eyes. Nick ignored it and stepped to one side with Eric Noble. “You’re the first thief I ever met,” the BBC man said. “Out of loyalty to Hope I really should turn you in.”
“I stole nothing. And there’s only your word that the safe was open.”
“True enough,” Noble agreed. “What’s your game, Velvet? You’re not the usual run of thief. And you did arrive with Felix Poland.” Even as he said the words a light dawned. “Of course! That rascal hired you, didn’t he?”
“Did he?”
Gloria came up to them with a plate of food. “You’d better get in line, Nicky, before it’s all gone.”
“I don’t think Hope Trennis is likely to run out of food,” he said, but he joined Noble in line nevertheless.
“I’ll give you a tip for next time,” Noble said. “An engineering quirk of British television transmission causes an imperceptible speed-up of projection. A twenty-five-minute film loses one minute on our TV. And Hope’s ‘100 Minutes’ is a fast ninety-six minutes here.”
“So you didn’t cut anything.”
“Oh, no. You saw it all. Or I should say you would have seen it all if you hadn’t been busy cracking Hope’s safe.”
Nick gathered up a plate of food, feeling depressed. He’d been caught in the act by this man who taunted him, and he still had no idea where the newspaper was.
He watched Hope approach the butler and wave toward the fireplace. “Didn’t I tell you to burn that right away?” she asked. The butler murmured an apology and picked up a long match.
The fireplace!
Nick’s eyes shot to it, saw the folded newspaper lying on top of the wood, and knew instinctively it was the one he sought. It was valuable only to Poland, not to Hope Trennis, and she wanted it burned.
He turned quickly to Gloria and whispered, “Sorry, my dear”—and upset his plate of food down the front of her dress.
“Nicky!” she screamed.
The butler, half bent toward the fireplace, heard her cry, and straightened up. He blew out his match and hurried over with a napkin.
“I don’t know how I could be so clumsy,” Nick murmured. He stepped behind the butler, and while all eyes were on Gloria quickly scooped up the newspaper from the fireplace. Before he tucked it under his coat he verified the date. It was indeed yesterday’s London Free Press.
He went back to Gloria’s side while the butler and maid finished wiping off her dress. “How could you do that to me?” she asked.
“I’ll explain later,” he said softly. “It was necessary.”
“I don’t think this is our lucky day any more.”
“We’ll see.”
They departed soon afterward, with Hope Trennis seeing them to the door. She seemed suspicious of something, but uncertain of what it was. “I hope you enjoyed the evening,” she said.
“It was most profitable,” Felix Poland assured her. “You’ll be hearing from me.”
The actress smiled thinly. “Not too soon, I trust.”
In the taxi back to the hotel Nick handed over the paper. “Is this what you wanted?”
Felix Poland quickly opened it to an inside page. “I’ll tell you soon enough. Yes, this is the one! You do good work, Velvet.”
“What’s this all about?” Gloria asked.
“Your husband is an extremely accomplished thief. And you are quite an actress to distract their attention the way you did.”
“What does he mean, Nicky?”
“I’ll explain later.”
But for Felix Poland the time for explanations was now. “You see this item in the ‘Mayfair Gossip’ column? The light’s dim so I’ll read it to you. ‘Actress Hope Trennis is still mourning the apparent suicide of her best friend, Rena Poland. Trennis refuses to accept the verdict and tells friends that Rena wasn’t the sort to kill herself saying, “If there was poison in that wine, her husband probably put it there.’ End of item, beginning of lawsuit. This is going to cost Hope Trennis and the London Free Press one million pounds!”
“Why did you have to get that particular paper?”
“They stopped the presses and yanked that item at the very beginning of the run. They insisted no copies were distributed, but when I heard about it I knew Hope would have one if anybody did. And just one is all I need to prove publication.”
“She must have known it was a foolish thing to keep. That’s why she told the butler to burn it.”
“The editor was asleep, allowing such an item to slip through in the first place. The British libel laws are quite strict, and no one is going to print that about me!”
Gloria and Nick got out of the cab at their hotel. “A pleasure doing business with you,” Nick said.
“And you, sir.”
Nick stood on the curb watching the taxi pull away. After all, his luck had held. Now if only he could explain it to Gloria. . .
In the elevator she said, “You always told me you worked for the government.”
“Sometimes I do.”
“Stealing things?”
“I—” The elevator doors slid open on their floor and he cut short the conversation. Eric Noble, the man from the BBC, was le
aning against the wall by their door, obviously waiting for them. “How did you get here so fast?” Nick asked.
“My taxi driver knew a short cut. You lit your cigarette with matches from here, so I knew where to find you. These American-owned places always have free matches.”
“A regular detective!”
“That’s why I’m here. May we talk inside?”
Gloria produced her key and unlocked the door. Once inside, Nick asked, “Now what’s this all about?”
“Poland intends to sue Hope for libel, doesn’t he?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“He really did poison his wife, you know.”
“Then he won’t win his case, will he?”
“The libel laws here are tricky. Sometimes truth is no defense. But that’s beside the point. I’m a close friend of Hope’s and I want to protect her. I don’t want to see her dragged through a long libel action by that swine Poland.”
“And yet you didn’t sound the alarm when you found me at her safe.”
“You weren’t taking anything. Later, when I realized what happened while your wife diverted our attention, it was too late. Poland needed that paper, and you stole it for him.”
“What about his wife? Was she poisoned?”
Noble nodded. “Two months ago. She and Hope were great friends and she told Hope everything. Poland wanted a divorce so he could go off with some young bird from one of the gambling clubs. They had bad scenes over money and Rena wouldn’t consent to a divorce. Then one afternoon in his office she drank a glass of poisoned wine and died. The police decided it had to be suicide.”
“Why?”
“Because she was alone at the time. Poland was attending a meeting on the next floor, and I was at the meeting myself to vouch for it. She poured herself a glass of sherry from the decanter in his office. His secretary heard noises and rushed in to find Rena dying on the floor. The police found poison in the glass but not in the decanter. There was no way that Poland could have poisoned the drink before it was poured, and he was still in our meeting when the news reached him.”
“Yet Hope accused him.”
