Van Dorman was a fine raconteur and he made the story of his search for art treasures so amusing that Lucy found it as entertaining as a spy story—as indeed many of Van Dorman's stories were—for he frequently had to pit his wits against other, far from scrupulous dealers.
' I hope you'll encourage your fiancee to start collecting something special,' Mrs Van Dorman said when her husband paused to light a cigar.
' At the moment she's collecting her trousseau,' Paul chuckled. ' That's about as much as I can get her to do.'
' I'm not knowledgeable enough to become a collector of anything,' Lucy said.
' My dear, that isn't true.' Mrs Van Dorman fluttered her hands. ' When I married Clarence I couldn't tell the difference between a Rembrandt or a Picasso.'
' What my wife means,' said Van Dorman, ' is that she's now got the best collection of paperweights in the Western Hemisphere!'
'They're so pretty,' Mrs Van Dorman went on. ' That's the sort of thing you should collect. I mean it's cither that or becoming a grass widow while your husband spends most of his holidays browsing round antique shops and sale rooms!'
'I don't think Lucy need worry about becoming a grass widow yet awhile,' Mr Van Dorman said, and Lucy, hearing Paul chuckle, found herself blushing.
'Really, Clarence!' Mrs Van Dorman shook her head at her husband reprovingly, but her husband was completely unabashed.
' Lucy won't mind my little joke,' he said. ' After all,
I hope she'll regard me as a friend of hers, the way Paul does.' He leaned forward and patted Lucy's arm. ' I've known your fianc6 since he was a boy—when I used to come here to see if I could buy any of the Harlow heirlooms.'
'And now you're selling them back to me again,' Paul said goodhumouredly.
' I haven't any more to sell. You've got them all.' Van Dorman puffed at his cigar. ' Speaking of heirlooms reminds me of something. I heard you recently bought another T'ang horse. I hope you'll let me see it before I leave.'
' Certainly I will, but you've got your facts wrong. It wasn't a T'ang, it was the figure of a woman in jade. I think it's the loveliest piece I've got.'
' Coming from you, my dear fellow, that's quite something.' Van Dorman looked suitably impressed, and sensing the eagerness he was trying to hide, Paul walked over to the bookcase, took out the first three volumes and disclosed a small wall safe.
' I'll get the key and show it to you,' he said. As he spoke he twirled the combination. A small door clicked open and he put in his hand and withdrew a bunch of keys. Carefully he closed the safe again and returned the books to the shelf.
'Come,' he said. 'I keep my jade in the Green Room.' He led the way across the hall and up the stairs, but as they reached the main corridor Lucy touched Paul's arm.
' I'll join you in a few minutes. I'd like to see how Aunt Beatrice is.'
Leaving Paul to escort his guests, Lucy entered the Jacobean suite which Aunt Beatrice occupied: two rooms in the west wing of the house furnished with mouth-watering pieces of oak and original wallpaper and curtains, their heavy pattern faded to a redeeming softness.
Aunt Beatrice was sitting up in bed, eager to learn how the evening had gone.
' Everything went perfectly,' Lucy assured her. ' But now it's high time you settled down to sleep.'
' I was waiting for Cindy to look in. Where is the child ?'
' I expect she's with Murray. She left soon after dinner.'
Aunt Beatrice leaned back against the pillows. ' She's been so highly strung these last few days. I'm sure there's something on her mind.'
' Murray, probably,' Lucy said drily, and leaving Aunt Beatrice to her medicine and detective story, she made her way across to the east wing of the house. The Green Room was dark and empty, and realizing she had been upstairs longer than she had intended, she hurried down to the library.
The moment she entered she knew something was wrong; Mrs Van Dorman was sitting close to the fire twisting her handkerchief while her husband and Paul, both of them pale and agitated, were standing together by the desk.
Lucy hurried forward. ' Darling, what's happened?'
' The jade figure's gone. When I unlocked the cabinet it was empty.'
' You mean it's been stolen?'
'Yes.' Paul's voice was shaken. 'It looks like an inside job. That's the part I find so unpleasant.'
' Who knew where you kept the keys ?' Van Dorman asked
' Only the family.'
' What about the servants?'
'They've been here for years. Anyway, none of them knew about the wall safe.'
' It can't have been an inside job,' Lucy burst out.
' I'm afraid it is. The house is wired with one of the most up-to-date burglar alarm; systems in the country. Anyone touching the cabinet or going too near a painting without taking the proper precautions would set bells ringing everywhere.'
' Have you notified the police?' she asked.
' Certainly not. The last thing in the world I want is publicity.'
' In this sort of case,' Van Dorman explained to her, ' the usual procedure is to notify the insurance company. They put their own detectives on to it.'
' I see.' Lucy looked at Paul again. 'How much is the jade worth?'
' Sixty thousand pounds.'
She looked at him aghast, amazed that anyone could pay so much for one small object.
Paul smiled bleakly, as though reading her mind and then with an obvious effort, spoke to Mrs Van Dorman.
' I'm sorry this has happened to spoil your visit here.'
' My dear boy, don't give it another thought. I'm only glad we were instrumental in helping you to discover the theft.'
' That's true,' he admitted. ' If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't have known the jade had gone for another few months at least. I have to keep this particular collection locked up because of insurance problems.'
' When was the last time you saw the figure?' Van Dorman asked.
' About six weeks ago when I showed it to Lucy. By now it could be on the other side of the world.' He sighed and walked over to the tray of drinks on the cabinet. ' Let's not talk about it any more. You must all be tired of the subject. I suggest we have a nightcap and then go to bed.'
Lucy hoped that when the Van Dormans left the room she and Paul would have a chance to talk together, but either he did not see her look or else he misinterpreted it, for he turned out the lights in the library and accompanied his guests upstairs, pausing at the top to kiss Lucy a perfunctory goodnight.
Despondently she went to her own room and as she undressed, chided herself for feeling unwanted. Small wonder Paul was distracted. Sixty thousand pounds was no trifling amount even for a millionaire. Yet it hurt her to think that an inanimate object—however precious—could be so important to him that it affected his attitude towards her.
That night her sleep was disturbed by dreams of a jade figure that came to life and leered at her from every corner of the room. Desperately she tried to catch it, only to find that as she grasped it in her hands it turned into a tube of paint that squirted red slime over her fingers. This final horror awoke her and she sat up in bed and groped for the light. The drawn curtains shut out the sun and as she looked at her watch she was surprised to see it was past nine o'clock. Hurriedly pushing aside the bedclothes, she bathed and dressed, but when she reached the breakfast room a crumpled napkin at Paul's place showed he had already eaten.
Ignoring the dishes ranged on hot plates on the sideboard, she swallowed a roll and a few mouthfuls of coffee. A strange sense of foreboding filled her, caused by something beyond the loss of the vase, something that seemed to emanate from the house itself. Putting down her half-finished cup of coffee, she went across to the library. She was at the door when Paul came out. He kissed her briefly, but this time with his usual warmth, and she clung to him momentarily, feeling safe in his arms.
' I've been in touch with the insurance company,' he told her. ' They're sending someone down this morn
ing.'
' I'm just on my way to see Aunt Beatrice. Does she know what's happened ?'
' Yes. The only thing that really worries her is that it might, be one of the servants. They've been with us for years and she looks on them as part of the family.' ' You still think it was someone in the house ?' He paused and then answered her question with another one. ' Do you see any alternative?'
Unbidden, the memory of her dream came into her mind and with it the thought of Murray. But her fears were so nebulous that she was afraid to give vent to them and she shook her head at his question, relieved to Bee the Van Dormans coming down the stairs.
The morning passed slowly and everyone was relieved when the insurance company representative arrived shortly before noon. He was closeted with Paul for more than an hour and then left the house without speaking to anyone else.
As the sound of his car died away Paul returned to the music room. ' All we can do now is wait,' he said. ' The company's detectives are already working on it.'
' What are the chances of getting the jade back?' Lucy asked.
' Not very good. The piece is small enough to have been smuggled out of the country.'
Another question was on the tip of her tongue, yet fear of Paul's astuteness made her reluctant to ask it. Still, it was something she had to know and she leaned towards him, her voice husky with fear.
' How would you set about selling a thing like that?'
' There are plenty of dealers who'd take it.'
' Not reputable ones, though?'
He shrugged. ' Quite a few dealers have wealthy foreign clients who would be willing to buy something without asking too many questions about where it came from.'
The remark reminded Van Dorman of a similar incident in his own career and he was half-way through telling it when the butler announced that lunch was ready.
' I'll go and find Cindy,' Lucy said. ' I haven't seen her all the morning.'
' She's not a baby,' said Paul. ' She knows very well what time we eat.'
A niggling doubt nagged at Lucy's peace of mind, but before she could say anything the door opened- and Aunt Beatrice ran into the room, her dressing' gown trailing round her.
'Cindy's gone!' she quavered. 'Her bed wasn't slept in and her wardrobe's empty.'
Paul jumped to his feet, his eyes glittering with fury. ' I knew this would happen. She's eloped with Murray!'
'Oh not' Aunt Beatrice moaned. 'She can't have done.'
' She has,' Paul repeated, ' and it's quite obvious that Murray took the jade—or got Cindy to take it for him.'
'Not Cindy!' Lucy cried. 'She'd never steal anything of yours.'
Paul looked at his aunt. ' Did she leave any letter?'
' No, but her passport's gone and she's taken the jewellery her mother left her.'
' That proves my point,' Lucy interrupted triumphantly. ' If Cindy had stolen the jade she'd have taken the jewellery you bought her too. But she only took the pieces that were her own.'
' All right,' Paul said, tight-lipped. ' I'll concede her innocence. So that only leaves Murray.' He stood up and walked to the door.
' Where are you going?' Lucy called.
' To the cottage.'
' You don't think they'll be there?'
' No,' he said impatiently. ' But Murray's sister might, and if she is I'll get something out of her if it's the last thing I do.'
Afraid to let him go alone, Lucy followed him out to the hall. .
' Wait until I get my coat,' she pleaded. ' I'll come with you.'
' As you please.'
Neither of them spoke during the short drive to the cottage, and Lucy felt further from Paul than at any time since she had known him. Although it was unspoken between them, she knew he blamed her for Cindy's elopement and she realized also that he would never forgive her.
The cottage was deserted, as they had both known it would be, but none the less Paul forced open the door and searched through every room. The few sticks of furniture appeared even more pathetic now that it was untenanted and the coldness of the air struck so sharply that Lucy was certain the cottage had been unoccupied for a couple of days. No reason to wonder now why Murray had not come to Charters for dinner last night. He must already have been in London.
Still in silence, she and Paul returned home to find Aunt Beatrice and the Van Dormans already in the dining room. Lunch was a miserable farce and soon afterwards the American couple tactfully departed.
As soon as they had gone Paul disappeared into the library and spent the rest of the afternoon on the telephone. Lucy remained with Aunt Beatrice, but at six o'clock the old lady retired to bed and Lucy sat alone by the are, listening lor Paul's step. At last he came into the room.
' Any news yet?' she asked.
' No. I've put another detective agency on to it.'
'Why don't you call the police?'
' If I do, every newspaper in the country would have the story by tomorrow.'
'Who cares?' she said angrily. 'Isn't Cindy's life more important than your fear of scandal ?'
' I'm not worried for myself,' he retorted. ' It's Cindy I care about. Do you think it would do her reputation any good if everyone knew she'd run off with a thief? My one hope is to find her before the news leaks out.'
' Even if you find her,' Lucy said quietly, ' she may refuse to come back.'
' I'll worry about that later. Let's find her first.'
He sat down and reached for a cigar, but even when it was alight he did not speak, and Lucy's depression grew deeper. If people were in love, sorrow should bring them closer together, not drive them further apart, as it was seeming to do with her and Paul.
The ringing of the telephone brought him to his feet and he hurried out of the room to answer it.
When he returned it was to tell her that a young couple answering to Cindy and Murray's descriptions, accompanied by an older woman, had been seen by the crew of a cross-Channel steamer going to Calais.
' They must be making for Paris,' Lucy said. ' Murray has a lot of friends there.'
' We'll know soon enough,' Paul muttered, and sat down again.
At eleven o'clock there was a further telephone call, but the news was bad: the trail had led to Paris—as they had hoped—but had petered out there.
' Every station and airport and bus depot is being watched,' Paul said. ' They won't even be able to hire a car without being seen.'
' Maybe they've already left Paris.'
He looked so bleak at the thought that she said quickly: ' Perhaps you should go over yourself.'
' I daren't risk it. Can you imagine what would happen if some bright reporter saw me poking around back-street Paris hotels?'
' Couldn't you travel incognito?'
' For heaven's take,' he exploded. ' I only have to sneeze for the Stock Market to drop a shilling. You don't seriously think I could leave the country without it being known?'
Realizing that whatever she said would be wrong, Lucy lapsed into silence and Paul resumed his seat opposite her and closed his eyes.
It was not until some half an hour later, when the clock chimed midnight, that he appeared to realize Lucy was still sitting opposite him.
' Worrying won't help,' he said gently. ' Go to bed, my dear.'
' What are you going to do?'
' Sit here and read.'
Lucy longed to run over to him, but fear held her back. If only he had said aloud that he blamed her for Cindy's disappearance it would have been easier to talk to him. But no word of condemnation had passed his lips and his silence had produced a far greater barrier.
' Go to bed,' he repeated. ' I'd like to be alone.'
Silently Lucy did as she was told, and while Paul read a book and wandered around the music room, she sat sleepless by the window and watched the dark, windswept sky slowly lighten to dawn.
CHAPTER XI
Sunday brought no further news, though Paul made an effort to act as though things were normal. They went
for a walk round the estate in the morning, returned in time for lunch and in the afternoon listened to music. But immediately dinner was over he excused himself and went to his room, his pallor evidence of the fatigue and strain he was under.
On Monday he left as usual for the City, promising to ring the moment he had any news. But no call came from him and for Lucy and Aunt Beatrice the day dragged leadenly by.
At seven-thirty p.m. Paul returned to Charters and one look at his face told them that something had happened.
' It's Cindy,' Aunt Beatrice cried. ' You've found her!'
' Not Cindy,' he answered. ' But the insurance company has had a tip-off about the vase.'
' Where is it ?' Lucy asked.
' It was traced to a dealer in Mayfair. That's all I know.'
On Tuesday morning the newspapers broke with the scoop of the theft of the jade figure. WhoeVer had informed the insurance company about the antique dealer had also leaked the news to the papers. The headlines were lurid and sensational, and reading them brought home to Lucy what it was like to live for ever in the public eye. She began to understand Paul's fear of scandal, for if the papers went to town like this over a piece of jade, there was no telling what they would do when they learned of Cindy's elopement.
'You can't just sit here and do nothing!' she cried. ' Tell the police. If they called in Interpol I'm sure '
' No,' he interrupted. ' I've got the best detective agency in the country looking for her. If they can't find her, nobody can.'
Lucy knew Paul was right, yet she found the waiting
Unbearable, and though she tried to find tasks to occupy herself, each day was twelve hours of agony. The loss of the jade did not bother her so much as the knowledge that Cindy's action might ruin her life. What happiness could the girl find with a man who was a thief?
Paul did not return to Charters again during the week and Lucy wondered whether he had stayed away deliberately. Surely he still did not blame her for Cindy's behaviour? Logic alone must tell him that his sister would have run away with Murray regardless of what anyone else had said. Indeed if she had not had some restraining influence on Cindy, the girl would have eloped months earlier. She toyed with the idea of bringing her fears out into the open, but was afraid that if she did so it might lead to a quarrel, lead perhaps to words being said that would leave a hurt so deep that it would not disappear.
Rachel Lindsay - Love and Lucy Granger Page 15
