Dictator's Way
Page 27
‘Now, to-day?’ stammered Marsden, more and more astonished.
‘Now, to-day,’ repeated Sir Christopher, glaring at him as if daring him to say a word, and the door opened and young Peter Carsley came in rather quickly, carrying a sealed packet in his hands.
‘I’m so sorry I’ve been so long,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t get the safe open at first.’
Peter was a tall, fair, good-looking youngster, with grey eyes, prominent, well-shaped nose, a strong, even obstinate-looking mouth and chin, and a direct, rather blunt manner. That he had had some difficulty in passing his final examinations is a fact that must not be concealed, but at any rate he had got through in the end, even though the intensive effort required had quite likely cost him his chance of representing England against Wales at Twickenham – and whether the gain was worth the sacrifice he was in his secret heart not quite sure.
He greeted Sir Christopher now with a certain restraint and Sir Christopher’s manner to him was far from cordial, indeed almost rude. Peter flushed a little, he had a trick of flushing, it was the secret shame of his inner life, and put down on the table the sealed packet he had brought with him.
‘This is the list of securities,’ he said, producing a typewritten document. ‘It’s not been checked yet.’
‘We’ll do that now,’ growled Sir Christopher. ‘Make sure they’re all there for Belfort to see. He’s coming to dinner to-night, and he can go through them afterwards to his heart’s content.’
‘Shall you be keeping them all night?’ Marsden asked, a little startled. ‘Isn’t that a trifle – dangerous? £20,000, almost all in negotiable stuff.’
‘I’ve a good safe,’ Sir Christopher retorted, ‘and I’m sorry for the burglar I lay hands on.’ He held out his hand as he spoke and certainly it looked one of which the grip would be formidable enough. ‘Besides, I keep a loaded six-shooter in my bedroom,’ he added.
‘But–’ began Marsden hesitatingly.
‘But what?’ grunted Sir Christopher. ‘I’ve had diamonds worth as much as that in the safe for three months now or longer – they’ve been all right.’
He had rather a grim look as he spoke, and indeed his square-set figure, his fierce, glittering eyes and great hooked nose all gave him the look of some huge bird of prey it would be best not to meddle with. One felt it would be a rash thief indeed who ventured within his reach.
Peter turned towards the door, and, as he did so, noticed the torn theatre tickets lying where Sir Christopher had thrown them down. He paused, surprised, and Sir Christopher said with an evident sneer:
‘Two stalls for a theatre. You can have them, if you like. I’m engaged.’
Looking still more surprised, Peter picked them up.
‘Oh, thank you,’ he said, with the gratitude a gift of theatre tickets always evokes, and then with a certain disappointment: ‘Oh, Shakespeare.’
‘Prefer a musical show?’ asked Sir Christopher.
‘Well, yes, I do,’ confessed Peter. ‘They ram Shakespeare down your throat so at school, you do get fed up with him.’
‘Better go,’ grunted Sir Christopher. ‘It’ll improve your mind. They’re for to-night.’
‘Oh, for to-night, sorry, I’m engaged to-night,’ Peter answered, and put down the tickets on the corner of the table from which, with an angry gesture, Sir Christopher swept them to the floor as the door closed behind Peter.
‘Young puppy, infernal young puppy,’ Sir Christopher snarled. ‘Did you hear that?– like his insolence. He meant he was engaged because he knows Jennie’s going to the Amherst ball and he’s going, too. Does the young fool think I’ll ever let her marry him?’
Published by Dean Street Press 2015
Copyright © 1938 E.R. Punshon
All Rights Reserved
This ebook is published by licence, issued under the UK Orphan Works Licensing Scheme.
First published in 1938 by Victor Gollancz
Cover by DSP
ISBN 978 1 910570 40 1
www.deanstreetpress.co.uk