The Attenbury Emeralds

by Dorothy L. Sayers

  ‘ “Have you recovered the jewel?”

  ‘ “Not yet, sir. But we have a warrant for the arrest of the thief and the search of his premises. I have no doubt the recovery of the jewel will follow. The key to the whole thing” – he was preening himself, Harriet, positively preening – “was finding the link between the thief and his inside conspirator. I have arrested her. This was a clever plan, Lord Wimsey, laid well in advance.”

  ‘ “You have arrested Jeannette?” I said, with a sinking heart.

  ‘ “And even as we speak,” he said, “officers from the Yard are seeking to apprehend Mr Osmanthus, in whose possession the missing jewel will be found. You didn’t think of that, did you? I think you will find, with age and experience, Lord Wimsey, that the appropriate training for the job in hand has a lot to be said for it.” ’

  ‘You are making this up, Peter!’ exclaimed Harriet.

  ‘By our first strange and fatal interview,’ he said, ‘By all desires which thereof did ensue, By our long starving hopes, etc., etc., I swear I am not.’

  ‘Can he really have been so patronising? How he must squirm at your later successes!’

  ‘I have wondered whether just this very thing is the source of his ill-disguised dislike of me.’

  ‘We can forgive those who injure us, but we never forgive those we have injured?’

  ‘He didn’t exactly injure me. Annoy would be a better translation.’

  ‘Well, so Inspector Sugg arrested poor Jeannette, and, I take it, Nandine Osmanthus?’ asked Harriet as they stopped to admire a patch of pale blue wood anemones, spreading across the grass like a skylit puddle. ‘Did he have a shadow of a reason?’

  ‘He had made a great discovery, which linked the two: the man known to desire the king-stone, and the person who had had the best opportunity to take it. Jeannette it was, and none other than she who had taken Osmanthus his lunch in the little sitting-room.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So she had an opportunity to conspire with him. Perhaps she had taken the job with the Attenburys specially to await this chance, and indeed had been the one to summon Osmanthus to verify the authenticity of the stone. What do you think of that?’

  ‘I feel a certain shame. If Sugg found it easier to suspect a servant and a foreigner than any member of an upper-class house-party . . .’

  ‘There is no need for either of us to feel implicated in the bêtise of Inspector Sugg.’

  ‘But I do so feel, somewhat. I must have read dozen upon dozen detective stories in which the writer evinces such prejudices, and, worse, assumes them in the reader.’

  ‘Popular fiction is of its time. And don’t you think, Harriet, that that time is past, or rather passing? I think I can feel the social weather changing as we speak.’

  Harriet mused. If Peter was right about that, she thought, the coming world might be hard on him.

  ‘It will be hard on my brother the Duke,’ said Peter, as though her thought had been spoken. ‘He is already falling into difficulties trying to look after that great house. I’m tired of these anemones; shall we walk on?’

  ‘When you are ready to complete the tale of the Attenbury emeralds . . .’

  ‘By all means. Your powers of endurance are astonishing. Of course Sugg’s case collapsed, but with a suddenness and completeness that took our breath away – Bunter’s and mine, I mean. Attenbury’s house-party dissolved at once, leaving, I must say, plenty of wrack behind. But everyone dispersed.

  ‘Arresting Osmanthus was a cardinal error. The jewel had not gone missing till after five o’clock at the earliest; Lady Attenbury’s maid had taken it from the banker’s box and given it to Jeannette at five, and she was unshakeably certain of it. And at the time she did that Osmanthus was on his way back to London, and, it turned out, in company with none other than Mr Whitehead, who had taken the same train, and got so pally with Osmanthus that he provided an indignant alibi. And no emerald of any kind, nor any other jewel than a diamond-studded fountain pen was found in Osmanthus’s quarters at the Oriental Club.’

  ‘What about Osmanthus’s own king-stone? The Maharaja’s, I mean?’

  ‘What indeed? My best guess was that Osmanthus got to hear of the uproar at Fennybrook Hall, and saw at once there was a danger of his own stone being impounded, and got it safely stowed somewhere.’

  ‘Did you take leave of Charles?’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t linger. Being forbidden to leave somewhere makes it a terrible ordeal to stay there, even if, left to oneself, one would choose to stay and one was having a jolly time. Bunter and I packed up and bolted back to Piccadilly as if the devil were after me.’

  ‘Poor Bunter,’ said Harriet with feeling.

  ‘I simply can’t imagine why everyone is so censorious about my driving,’ said Peter. ‘I have never had an accident . . .’

  Harriet shuddered at various vivid recollections from the passenger seat, and said nothing. Peter patted the back of her hand where it rested on his forearm, as if he could sympathise. The two walked on in companionable silence for a while. They reached Hyde Park Corner. Peter said, ‘Would you like tea at the Ritz? Just because I married you shouldn’t put an end to flamboyant assignations.’

  ‘Will there be real Darjeeling tea?’ asked Harriet.

  ‘Certainly there will. The world has not yet gone to hell in a handcart. And delectably thin cucumber sandwiches. Do say yes, Harriet, I’m freezing in the open air. Be like Great Anna whom three realms obey.’

  ‘Gladly, my lord,’ said Harriet.

  ‘I always think I have been behaving somehow ridiculously when you call me that, my lady,’ said Peter.

  They ordered tea with cucumber sandwiches, and maids of honour, and settled comfortably at a corner table with a glimpse across the terrace to the trees of the park.

  ‘It almost seems as though the war never happened, here,’ said Harriet. ‘It’s a good place to tell me fairy stories about the world before.’

  ‘Before the war?’

  ‘Before I met you.’

  ‘Where was I?’

  ‘You had unmannerly departed without taking leave of the then Sergeant Parker.’

  ‘I asked him to lunch with me the following week. To talk about Athanasius, you understand. But I learned from him that the person who had shopped me to Inspector Sugg was the wretched girl Jeannette. She had warned him when he tried a second time to bully her into confessing that every word he said was being overheard by his betters. He had the linen room locked immediately, though too late.’

  ‘So Charles kept quiet about you. I’m glad. What happened to Jeannette?’

  ‘Attenbury bailed her on his surety. And my mother found her a job with an elderly cousin, in need of companionship. One of Uncle Paul’s many ramificating relations. And in France. Out of the way of English spite.’

  ‘What about her young man?’

  ‘Joined her in France. Don’t know how they fared in the war. Must ask my mother. She’ll know.’

  ‘So have you been pals with Charles ever since?’

  ‘Pretty much. It was very occasional at first. Then as I got involved in more cases, and he got involved with my sister it took off to the heights at which you see it now.’

  ‘Before we get to more cases, I surmise that there must be more to the famous first one you are telling me about. Because your account so far makes it fall rather short of the sort of thing that makes a man renowned as an apprehender of jewel thieves.’

  ‘Sorry. Lack of refined narrative skills, I fear. Before I left Fennybrook, I told Claire Attenbury that the “paste” necklace in her jewel box was actually the real one. But, alas, the king-stone that had gone missing was also the real one. I have to say that those Attenburys were very offhand about the whole thing. None of them actually liked the king-stone much. The rivière could always be sent to Cartier’s and adapted to be worn without it. It was still a spectacular showy thing. And there was insurance money; made me quite cross with them.�
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  ‘You wanted to know who had taken it? To be certain. To have cleared it up.’

  ‘Of course. And then a strange thing happened. One evening, about, I suppose, five weeks after the house-party, when everyone but me had stopped worrying about it, I imagine, except poor Sugg whose superiors had presumably given him a flea in his ear, Bunter came up to me in the library, and presented me with a card from Mr Nandine Osmanthus. Might he take up a few minutes of my valuable time? Of course I had him shown up.

  ‘Bunter fetched drinks, but Osmanthus demurred at speaking with Bunter present. He would be grateful for a word with me privately. Well, I don’t like Bunter left in the dark. It seems to me to be uncivil to imply that a fellow’s manservant might not be discreet. We had an arrangement, Bunter and I, in which on a nod from me he would withdraw, and then stand behind the section of the bookcase which was a disguised door through to the drawing-room. He could hear every word from there, and it was useful when I wanted his pin-sharp memory. He was as good as a secretary taking dictation without having to write it down.

  ‘So when the visitor had a drink in his hand and had settled in the best armchair, I gave Bunter the nod. And Osmanthus embarked on his errand. A lot of pleasantries first – wonderful flat, fine show of books, glad to see a good piano – that sort of thing. Take that as read.

  ‘I offered him sympathy over his having been arrested, and on having his premises searched, and hoped it had not been too unpleasant an experience.

  ‘ “These things happen,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘ “And Inspector Sugg’s men did not find your own jewel and mistake it for the stolen one? I was afraid that might happen.”

  ‘ “The Maharaja’s jewel is in a place of safety,” he said.

  ‘I said I was glad of that.

  ‘Then he said, “I had an unexpected visitor yesterday, Lord Peter. And what he told me has worried me very much. Oh, yes indeed. The short and the long is that I don’t know what is to be done. I would like your advice.”

  ‘ “My advice is free and freely given, old chap,” I said, in what I hoped was an encouraging tone.

  ‘ “You see, Lord Peter, although I am used to mixing with the highest class of people in my own country, I am not intimately acquainted with the way things are done in English aristocratic families. Not at all. So you see, I am at sea, afraid to put my foot in it as they say. But –” and here he raised his voice, and slapped the arm of his chair emphatically with the hand not holding his port – “it does not seem right to me! That poor young lady!”

  ‘ “What poor young lady?” I asked him.

  ‘ “The young Lady Charlotte, of course,” he said, sounding surprised.

  ‘ “Start at the beginning, won’t you, Mr Osmanthus,” I said. “Who was the visitor who perturbed you so?”

  ‘ “It was Mr Reginald Northerby,” he said.

  ‘ “Aha,” said I. “And what did that gentleman want with you, Mr Osmanthus?”

  ‘ “He wanted to sell me the king-stone from the Attenbury emeralds!” said Osmanthus.

  ‘ “Did he though? And what did you reply to him?”

  ‘ “I told him that my master, the Maharaja, wished to acquire not merely the stone itself, but good title to it. He would have nothing to do with trafficking in stolen goods. Not at all; not in any way at all. But, Lord Peter, Mr Northerby replied to me that the stone had not been stolen. It would be his to dispose of as soon as his marriage to Lady Charlotte took place, and he merely wanted to advance by a few weeks the transaction. The stone would be handed over in exchange for a cash-down deposit of a fraction of its value – should we say one-third of the money? The rest to be paid when the sale could be completed. There was a condition however. That was that the arrangement between us must be secret, and must remain so. Any leak of information would result in the sale being aborted, and the stone would then be put beyond our reach. In short, he would make sure that the Maharaja never acquired it.

  ‘ “Lord Peter, I was thunderstruck!”

  ‘I was pretty thunderstruck myself.

  ‘ “Lord Peter, what am I to do?” he asked me.

  ‘ “He gave you to understand that he had the stone?”

  ‘ “It was in his pocket, Lord Peter. He showed it to me.”

  ‘ “I take it you sent him packing?”

  ‘ “Oh, yes indeed!”

  ‘ “I don’t quite see what the problem is. Are you asking me if you should go to the police?”

  ‘ “I could go to the police. Then the stone would be returned into the hands of a family who have said they would never sell it to my master. Or I could sit on my hands, as you say, and wait for the marriage to take place, and then attempt to buy the stone. From the new owner. I take it that after the marriage Mr Northerby would be the owner?”

  ‘ “I think the emeralds are heirlooms, Mr Osmanthus. Lady Charlotte would still be the owner.”

  ‘ “But young brides will do what their husbands tell them? As in my country they would . . .”

  ‘ “Hmm,” I said. “An English woman might not be reliably subservient. But in the early months of a marriage, perhaps . . .” I was thinking aloud.

  ‘ “I have come to ask you, Lord Peter, if you think I should tell Lord Attenbury who has got the jewel. Or do you think I should keep quiet while the young lady marries a thief? If I had not been strictly instructed to play above board in every way, I could of course arrange for the jewel to be taken from him by a cut-throat in a back alley. But the matter of the young lady’s future happiness and honour would be unresolved.”

  ‘ “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked. “Since it imperils your chance of buying the jewel from Northerby.”

  ‘ “There is the young lady to consider. I would like to leave it in your hands,” he said. “It is very clear you are a trusted friend of the Attenbury family. You will have the ears of his lordship. You will know best what to do.”

  ‘ “Thank you,” I said. “I will think about it.”

  ‘It was tricky one, Harriet. If he went to the police with his story, it would be bound to involve unpleasantness for the family. And I rather agreed with him about young Charlotte marrying a thief. I thanked him for being concerned about Charlotte’s honour; and I suggested that he leave Mr Northerby to me. Would you like more tea, or shall we potter off home?’

  ‘I’ve had enough tea, thank you, Peter. Can we go home via Hatchard’s? There’s a book I’d like to find.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Peter. ‘Who am I to come between an author and a book?’

  They wandered along Piccadilly together, and as they went they talked of other things.

  Chapter 7

  Harriet took up the subject again as they drank sherry before dinner. ‘So what did you do about the dishonest Mr Northerby?’ she asked Peter.

  ‘I thought a good deal about Sergeant Parker’s view of things. And I came to the conclusion, very reluctantly, I am ashamed to remember how reluctantly, Harriet, that I had a bounden duty to tell the police if I knew the whereabouts of stolen goods.’

  ‘Why were you so reluctant?’

  ‘Well, for a start I had come to feel very wary of Mr Osmanthus. It was touching, and all that, that he should be so concerned about Charlotte’s welfare, considering that as far as I knew he had never met her. Of course, I could read his message. People of his class, he was letting me know, would stick up for the reputation of people of class anywhere. And the assumption was that I would do the same. Lord Attenbury’s interests would be my main concern; any interest in the wider scene, like the need of society for justice, would be secondary. I would, as he would, wish to preserve Charlotte from marriage to a rogue, but also to preserve her from the shame of having been engaged to a rogue. He expected me to have a quiet word with Northerby, and get the jewel back, and hush everything up. As Charles had so pertinently asked me, whose interests would I act in?

  ‘Well, Peter?’

  ‘I’m afra
id I didn’t do anything for a day or two. Paralysis set in. I think, you know, it was the earliest example of that nausea you know all too well. I love the fun of the chase; I had been feeling top-hole all through the uproar about jewels; I had been feeling pretty triumphant at having worked it out. You know that feeling, Harriet – this is what I’m good for, this is what I can do! But when it comes to someone trapped and suffering, someone going to prison, or, worst of all, someone hanging, then I feel as sick as I ever felt ordering men out of the trenches and over the top. So you see, I didn’t fancy doing what I clearly ought to do. I went all pitiful and shaky and went back to bed.’

  ‘For how long,’ said Harriet sternly, ‘did you go to bed?’

  ‘Two days. On the first day my mother dropped in to see me, and talked and talked about the Attenbury wedding, and how peaky she thought Charlotte was looking, and how oddly Lady Attenbury was behaving, when she should have been delighted, and how she, my mother, would have been delighted had either of her younger children shown any sign of doing their duty and getting married like everybody else’s children, and how Gerald had at least got married, even if his choice of wife was somewhat arguable and as I had the whole world to choose from and needn’t be bound by the sort of considerations that obtained for eldest sons, she thought I might have been able to find a jolly chorus girl with a heart of gold to gladden her heart by talking vulgarly at table, and shocking Helen; and how she couldn’t understand what the fuss was about a stolen gem when the Attenburys were dripping all over with jewellery, and could spare a rock or two better than any family in London; it was of course distressing to lose a jewel, but they should count themselves lucky, when there were families all over London who hadn’t got more than one or two jewels, and who really couldn’t afford to lose one.’

  Harriet laughed. And then a shadow crossed her face as she thought of her adored mother-in-law, now very old and frail, and able to rattle on for only half the time she used to.

  ‘After a bit of this, I managed to get up and sit by the fire in my dressing-gown, and have a bite of supper brought up to me. And the next day, I would have been in bed, only Freddy just happened to call by.’