‘Well, you know what was said about his going off. Suppose he had been taking advantage of his opportunities to line his pockets and Olivia had found him out. She is pretty sharp, you know, and if she had found out about the proposed marriage at the same time, do you suppose she would have hesitated to put the screws on him – “Clear out, or we prosecute”? He wouldn’t really have had much choice, would he?’
Miss Silver smiled.
‘That is quite an ingenious theory, Mr. Eversley, but I believe that it will not bear any closer scrutiny. It does not reckon with the certain fact of Alan Thompson’s influence with Miss Cara. When you consider that it had brought her to within six days of marrying him, and that it was strong enough to induce her to keep the fact a complete secret from the sister who had dominated her all her life, it is clear that Alan would only have had to go to Miss Cara and she would have protected him by declaring that she had given him the money. By far the larger part of the income was hers, and she had only to say the missing sum was a gift from herself. Louisa has told me that she saw Miss Cara just once after Alan disappeared. They met by accident in the precincts of the cathedral, and for the moment Miss Cara was alone. She took Louisa by the hand with the tears running down her face and said, “Oh, why did he go? There was no need – I would have given him anything!” And then Miss Olivia came up and took her away. They went abroad a day or two later.’
Chapter Twelve
Derek burdon looked across the table at Candida. It was a big old-fashioned affair well furnished with drawers, and with such aids to industry as a large blotting-pad, a massive double inkstand, and plenty of pens and pencils. There was also an old-fashioned portfolio full of papers. He said in an exasperated voice,
‘It’s all very well to say we ought to get on with it, but I ask you!’
‘Do you?’
He laughed,
‘Well, I suppose I don’t really. This sort of thing just isn’t my line of country, you know. Well, I mean to say – is it? The old dears don’t seem to realise that they might just as well expect me to play the cathedral organ or to fly a plane! As a matter of fact I wouldn’t mind learning to fly, but they wouldn’t expect me to do it right away without learning how, now would they?’
She could not help laughing.
‘I can’t think why you took on a secretarial job.’
He laughed too, and in a perfectly carefree manner.
‘Can’t you? I expect you could if you tried. It was a gift-horse, and I couldn’t afford to look it in the mouth. You see, the bother about me is that I’m just no use at earning a living. I haven’t got any vices, but I haven’t got any of the tiresome virtues either. Industry, application, perseverance – you know the sort of thing. They used to put bits in my reports about them. “Lacks application” – that one was always cropping up. My father used to get wild about it, but I don’t see that it was my fault. You don’t have a down on anyone simply because he can’t act or hasn’t got an ear for music. The things just weren’t included in my make-up, that’s all. Now my father was a really successful business man until he came a spectacular smash and went off into the blue in his private plane. No one knows whether he got anywhere or not. Personally I feel sure that he did, and that he had parked enough money abroad to see him through. I was eighteen, and as soon as I had done my military service an uncle with an office shoved me into a junior clerkship, a completely repellent job. You see, I really do hate work.’ He smiled disarmingly.
‘Somebody has got to do it,’ said Candida.
‘Yes, darling, but not me – at least not if I can help it. And of course there are two sides to the business – you have to find an employer who will put up with me. The uncle stuck it for two years – I give him marks for that – but he booted me in the end.’
‘How did you come across the Aunts?’
‘Oh, that was easy. I was in a concert party at Eastcliff – they go down there once in a way to take the sea air – and I had a bit of luck. Miss Cara twisted her ankle, and I carried her to their hotel. After that the job just fell into my lap. They’ve been frightfully good to me, and as a rule I don’t get asked to do anything I can’t manage. It’s this family history business that gets me down.’
‘Why?’
He rumpled up his hair.
‘Well, it’s a bit above my head, you know. There are pieces in Latin, and if there was one thing that I was worse at than the other things, it was Latin. I remember a really frightful row after getting “Doesn’t try” in a report. That was a chap called Masterman. He had a down on me, and I fairly loathed him. One of the strenuous, earnest sort.’
‘I haven’t come across any Latin.’
‘No, darling, but you haven’t got very far, have you? Besides, to tell you the truth, the whole thing gives me the pip. Who cares what people did two or three hundred years ago? They’re dead and buried, and why not let them be? It’s like grubbing into graves and digging up a lot of old bones, and I don’t like it. If you ask me, the whole thing stinks.’
Candida had an odd feeling that something had startled her, but she didn’t know what it was. There was the hint of an uneasy tone in Derek’s voice, the hint of an uneasy look behind the smile in his eyes. He looked past her and said,
‘What I’d like to know is, why have they got so keen about it again all of a sudden?’
Candida echoed his word.
‘Again?’
He nodded.
‘Yes. It was the chap who was here before me who started on it – Alan Thompson. You’ve heard about him?’
‘Yes.’
He waved a hand in the direction of the portfolio.
‘Well, all that sort of thing appealed to him, I gather. They don’t talk about him, you know. He blotted his copybook – went off with the loose cash and some of Miss Cara’s jewellery. A fairly rotten thing to do, don’t you think? And stupid too, because – well, they are most awfully generous, don’t you know? And according to Anna they were pretty well all over him.’
‘Was it Anna who told you about him?’
He leaned across the table and dropped his voice.
‘Well, she did, and she didn’t. She began, and then all of a sudden she dried up, and if there is anything less like Anna than to dry up about a thing before she’s got it chewed to a rag, I don’t know what it is. But she did tell me that he was dead keen on all this old history stuff, and sometimes I’ve just wondered whether his going off like that had anything to do with the Benevent Treasure.’
There was a pause. The sensation of having been startled became definitely one of shock. Candida found that her breathing had quickened. She said,
‘Why?’ The word shook a little.
He spoke quickly too.
‘Don’t you see, it would account for it. Suppose he had laid hands on the treasure and that was what he went off with. Look, I’ll show you something.’
He opened the portfolio and turned a page or two, took out a folded document, extracted from it a sheet of thin modern paper neatly typewritten, and pushed it across to Candida.
‘Here, take a look at that!’
She took it, and would rather have left it alone. There was a heading which took up two lines – ‘Those things carried out of Italy on his journey to England by Ugo di Benevento in the year 1662.’ After that there was a list. It began with, ‘Four dishes richly chased and silver-gilt,’ and went on all down the page. Candida followed it with extraordinary reluctance. There were things like.‘Two salt-cellars with doves – The gold candle-stick reputed to be the work of Messer Benvenuto Cellini – A bracelet with four large emeralds – A set of twelve ruby buttons – A necklace of very large rubies in a border of diamonds,’ and so forth and so on. The items ran together in a dazzle. She lifted her eyes from them and said,
‘What is it?’
‘What it sets out to be – a list of the things that Ugo got away with. I wonder how he managed it. The jewels could be tucked away, but all that plate mus
t have weighed a bit. I wonder if the candlesticks really were gold.’
Candida said,
‘It’s really more to the point to wonder whether they were the work of Benvenuto Cellini. They must be enormously valuable if they were. Of course I could see it was a list of what Ugo carried away – it says so. What I meant was, what is this list and where does it come from? It’s not old.’
He laughed.
‘Darling, typewriters weren’t invented in sixteen-what-ever-it-was. All I can tell you is that I found the list tucked inside a very dull paper about the lease of a farm. And if I’ve got to guess, I should say that Alan Thompson copied it off an older list and put it where he didn’t think anyone would meddle with it.’
‘But why?’
‘Well, if I’ve got to go on guessing, I should say that he probably wasn’t meant to have seen the other list. He may have just come across it and thought it would be nice to have a copy, or he may have been doing a spot of snooping – I wouldn’t know. Or of course it’s just possible that Miss Cara showed it to him. You know, she really was most awfully fond of him, poor old dear. Anna said it fairly broke her up, his going off like that. And of course I can’t help wondering whether he didn’t take the Benevent Treasure or what was left of it along for company.’
Candida was looking at him.
‘Did Anna ever talk to you about it?’
‘In a way. She told me about Miss Cara being so cut-up.’
‘What did she say?’
He laughed.
‘Interested, aren’t you!’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, well, why not? It’s your family! Anna came in one day when I had this stuff out and was trying to make head or tail of it. You may have noticed she likes talking. She stood the other side of the table where you are sitting and she talked quite a lot. She began about the papers – they were all lying about – and she said what did I want with them, they would be better in the kitchen fire, and hadn’t they done enough harm already.’
‘What did she mean by that?’
‘Well, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. She said, “Mr. Alan meddled with them, and look what came of it!” And I said, “What did come of it?” And she said, “God knows!” and put her hand up to her mouth and went away. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but after I found that list I wondered.’
Candida was silent. She looked down into her lap and saw the neat typing – ‘Twelve ruby buttons… ’ She pushed the list across the table and said,
‘I think you ought to show it to the Aunts.’
He shook his head with vigour.
‘Not on your life!’
‘All the papers are theirs.’
He looked at her with momentary shrewdness.
‘You mean they are Miss Cara’s. And do you suppose she wants to have the Alan Thompson affair raked up again? I gather it very nearly did for her at the time. Suppose he was up to something he shouldn’t have been. We don’t know whether he was or whether he wasn’t, but that seems to be what Miss Cara believes. Well, it would be frightfully cruel to bring it all back. As I said, she may even have given him the information in this list herself, and that would make her feel pretty bad. As far as I’m concerned it’s going back where I found it, and that’s that!’
Candida had never liked him so well. She said quickly and warmly,
‘Yes, yes, of course – you’re right. But, Derek, you don’t mean – you don’t think the treasure is still somewhere about?’
‘Why shouldn’t it be? Part of it anyhow.’
‘Well, I don’t know. There aren’t such a lot of things of that sort of date knocking about. They get sold, or broken up, or – ’
‘Stolen?’
Candida said soberly,
‘A lot of things can happen in three hundred years without putting any of them on to Alan Thompson.’
He rummaged among the papers, pulled one out, and gave it to Candida. It appeared to be an inventory of some kind – linen, curtains, silver of the homelier kind. Nothing like the splendours of the list which Alan had copied – just the ordinary furnishings of a well-to-do household, all set down on old discoloured paper in old discoloured writing. Candida stared at it, wondering why it had been given to her.
‘Well?’
He said,
‘Turn it round and look at the bottom of the left-hand corner.’
There was some writing here, running crossways to the short lines of the inventory, the hand a different one, thin and spidery. There were four lines, not very easy to read, but she made them out:
‘Touch not nor try,
Sell not nor buy,
Give not nor take,
For dear life’s sake.’
Underneath again there were two words that had been scratched out, the first lightly, but the second with many crossing strokes.
Derek said, ‘Got it?’
She read the four lines aloud in a slow bewildered voice.
‘What does it mean?’
‘I think it means the Treasure. The first of those two scratched-out words is a “the”. That’s easy. The second can’t be read – whoever did the scratching made a much better job of it. But it’s the right length to be “Treasure”, and that is what I think it is.’
‘But, Derek, what does it mean?’
He gave an uneasy laugh.
‘Well, it might mean that it wasn’t a good plan to meddle with the Treasure. Someone, I suppose Alan Thompson, has made a pencil note at the end of this paper, with a date in the eighteenth century and a query after it. Seventeen-forty, I think it is. If that’s right, it could mean that the Treasure was still going strong round about that date, and that there was some sort of family belief that it wasn’t lucky to meddle with it. It seems to me that Anna might have had the same idea.’
The door opened. Joseph stood on the threshold. He said with his usual politeness,
‘You are being asked for on the telephone, sir.’
Chapter Thirteen
It was after dinner the same evening that Miss Olivia began to talk about the Benevent Treasure. Derek was at the piano playing scraps and snatches of whatever came into his head. Miss Cara had said good night and drifted aimlessly down the long room to the door. Her feet made no sound on the carpet, the door no sound as it opened and closed again. She left a vaguely unhappy feeling behind her. The thought that came to Candida was that it was the first time she had seen her take the lead in even such a small thing as going to bed. On every evening until now it had been Miss Olivia who gathered up the embroidery or the knitting upon which she was employed and remarked upon the time. But tonight, and before it was quite ten o’clock, Miss Cara had got up, murmured an uncertain good night, and gone away.
After a short silence Miss Olivia said,
‘Cara is not as strong as I am. She has always required a good deal of care. Certain subjects agitate her and are best avoided. I should really have cautioned you on this matter before, but I thought I would wait until we knew you better. One cannot immediately confide in someone who has been brought up as a stranger to the family.’
This was rather daunting. Candida wondered what was coming next. Miss Olivia continued.
‘You will remember that I mentioned the Benevent Treasure on your first evening here. It would not have been possible to give you even the slightest sketch of the family history without touching on it, however lightly.’
Derek was playing the refrain of ‘Love’s Old Sweet Song’. There was a pile of these sugary old-fashioned ballads on the music-stand. He made fun of them to Candida, and played them as to the manner born. Miss Cara loved them, and Candida suspected that Derek had a soft corner for them himself. He might jest about them, but there was a lingering fondness in his touch. It came to her that the Aunts had had to make do with what they could get in the way of sentiment, and that it didn’t amount to very much.
Miss Olivia said in her clear, precise voice,
‘I should
have spoken to you before, but no opportunity presented itself. My sister and I are so seldom apart, and the matter did not appear to be pressing. But when Joseph mentioned that he had found you and Derek at work on the family papers I thought it might be as well to touch on the subject. I do not know whether Derek has said anything or not, but we find it better not to discuss the Benevent Treasure in front of Cara. There are some superstitious tales about it, and it is apt to make her nervous.’
Miss Olivia was sitting stiffly upright in a Sheraton chair whose brocaded seat was quite hidden by the spread of her black taffeta skirt. She wore a handsome spray of diamond flowers to fasten the fine lace ruffle at her neck. Half a dozen pearl and diamond rings were crowded on to the thin bent fingers which held a tambour frame and an embroidery-needle. The embroidery on the frame was jewel-bright. Candida suspected it of being too fine for comfort. Sometimes half an hour would go by without a stitch being taken. One was taken now as Candida said,
‘What tales, Aunt Olivia?’
A second stitch was set beside the first.
‘There are stories of the kind in most old families. It was said that the Treasure brought bad luck with it, but that of course was foolish. Ugo did not have bad luck at all. On the contrary. He used part of the Treasure to establish himself in this country. There were some exceedingly valuable jewels. Some of them were sold to build on to this house and to buy the land that went with it. We have no means of knowing how much was disposed of, but it was necessary for your ancestor to make a good appearance and to keep up his rank. He married an heiress, as I think I told you. Her name was Anne Coghill, and she brought him a considerable fortune. There was therefore no need to have further recourse to the Treasure. When from time to time, however, it became necessary to draw upon it, there grew up this idea that some misfortune would follow. James Benevent was known to have withdrawn some of the jewels in 1740. Shortly, afterwards he was killed by a fall from his horse, which took fright and threw him at his own front door. He lived long enough to charge his son to have nothing to do with the Treasure, but about fifty years later his grandson, Guy Benevent, having lost heavily at cards, was tempted to sell part of the Treasure to recoup himself. He was set upon by a footpad and received an injury to his head from which he died. He was found quite close to the house and carried in, but he never recovered consciousness.’
The Benevent Treasure Page 10
