God is an Englishman

by R. F Delderfield

  2

  Finance had always been the most ill-defined area of his enterprise, and there were two good reasons for this.

  In the first place he had never been able to regard money as an end in itself. Most city men, he discovered, thought of money as the base of their pyramid, often to the extent of pursuing profit for profit's sake, and even those concerned with a reputation and the consistency of their service or goods, gave to the financing of their undertakings a great deal of thought, and more of their time than to the competitive aspect of the concerns. It had not taken him long to face the fact that he was not endowed with their perspicacity, that he thought of finance, considered apart, as less important than all the other factors involved in a project. That is to say, it had to take its place in the queue and wait upon other imponderables—the age of a team, the strength of a vehicle, the loyalty of an employee, so that he was inclined to let money find its own level somewhere around the middle of the pyramid, far below the high standards he set himself, and only a step or two above, say, the breaking strain of an axle, or the time factor in a haul over a bad stretch of road.

  That was one reason and the other was the instinctive trust he placed in Avery, having formed the habit of consulting him before making important decisions. Only when he needed a fresh injection of capital to get things moving in a new area, or to replace stock that had outlived its usefulness, would he seek out Avery in order to state a case.

  The terms of their original agreement presumably reposed in the two letters of intent deposited with Avery's lawyers but he had forgotten all but the general outline. Now that he came to think about it he was not at all clear how their mutual obligations had been defined, for the association had never advanced beyond the gentleman's agreement, spelt out five years before, when he left the remaining rubies in Avery's keeping, partly as collateral for his advance, partly as a reserve. Since then there had been shifts in the arrangement. He was still paying Josh one per cent below the current bank rate for his initial three thousand, and he seemed to recall that Avery's original estimate of the value of the stones had been nine thousand guineas. Twice he had drawn upon the capital represented by them but on each occasion Avery had refused to treat the advances as further loans, stating that he was content with his fifty-fifty split on the overall profits, and Adam had agreed to this readily enough, although he was never sure how much capital Avery was deemed to have invested.

  Many might have found it hard to understand how a man who could calculate to the halfpenny the profit on a run anywhere between the Border and the Channel should have been so vague as regards the financial structure of his business but even when allowances were made for the trust he reposed in Josh there were many excuses that could be offered for this omission. Avery had never taken an active part in the business and was rarely seen about the yard. He knew and approved of Tybalt and was on nodding terms with Keate. Apart from these two he would not have known any one of the area managers by name. He lived, so far as Adam could determine, a strange, rackety life, drifting between Stock Exchange, club and racetrack, with an occasional jaunt to Paris, or a call on Kate Hamilton who regarded him as an influential customer. He still kept on his old rooms in Guildford Street, where he employed a moonfaced servant called Vosper, who had once served him as orderly and who seemed to Adam a discreet servitor, short on conversation. Sometimes weeks would pass without a meeting, or an exchange of letters. Smaller sums of money, both in and out of Avery's account, were handled by his lawyer, and often enough, when Avery was in town, Adam was away or vice versa. Neither of them seemed to find anything odd about the relationship. For five years now it had worked well and Adam would have said that he had the better of it for, so long as Avery's lawyer retained power of attorney, he was always able to borrow tide-over money for new stock or premises, and had once drawn a largish sum to replace ageing horses in areas where bad roads shortened their working lives.

  It was only after he was committed to buy Tryst, and had milked his personal account dry to raise the one third demanded as an advance on signature of contract, that he felt any urgency to consult Josh, or even tell him that he had recently converted the lease into a freehold. It seemed to him then that it was high time they had a talk and perhaps converted some of the remaining rubies into hard cash. He had his own ideas about what the stones were worth on the present market, having recently had Henrietta's ruby valued, and concluded that the total, based on the assessor's estimate, was higher than the initial sum quoted by Josh. The discrepancy, however, did nothing to cause him to doubt his partner's honesty for Avery was known to move in dubious company and the original estimate had almost certainly been that of a fence, who would be likely to strike an exceptionally hard bargain. When he saw how low his personal funds were, and how much next year's team and waggon renewals were likely to cost, he was half-inclined to discuss the financial situation with Tybalt but realised, when he thought about it, that this was impossible, for it would almost certainly lead to a disclosure of the source of the capital, as well as the insecurity of his arrangements with Avery. Tybalt, to whom financial integrity was a religion, would probably react unfavourably to the knowledge that Swann-on-Wheels had been financed by a looted necklace but there was more to it than that. He would also regard his employer as a complete fool to take the risks he took every day of the week on the strength of a partnership resting on a handshake, and Adam did not care to look a fool in the eyes of Tybalt or anyone else in his employ. He had put aside most of his military precepts when he went into trade but one he continued to observe was that the commanding officer must appear to know what he was doing, even if rank and file were convinced he was marching them in the wrong direction. He therefore made up his mind to have a full discussion with Avery before he asked Tybalt to prepare a statement of accounts and next year's estimates.

  But Avery was not to be found. He wrote twice to his club, and once to his rooms, but receiving no answer took a hansom to White's and made inquiries there of the steward. The man seemed more evasive than he need have been, although discretion was a qualification for a post at this kind of establishment.

  He said he could give the gentleman no information concerning Mr. Avery's whereabouts, for he had not been seen in the club for a month. He could, however, disclose his address on production of the caller's card. Adam said, sourly, “I know his address. Damn it, man, he's been my partner for five years. I’m not here to collect a debt!” and turned on his heel, telling the cabby to drive to Guildford Street. Here he had slightly better luck. After pulling the doorbell several times he saw the curtain move on the far side of the area railings and caught a glimpse of Vosper's anxious face. He was now sufficiently frustrated to bellow through the letter-box, stating his identity and demanding to know Avery's whereabouts on matters of urgency. Presently the door opened slowly and Vosper said, unhappily, “Mr. Avery isn’t here, Mr. Swann. I haven’t seen him since Friday of last week,” and then hesitated, as though undecided whether or not to admit the visitor. Adam helped him to make up his mind, putting his foot over the threshold and saying, “Look here, Vosper, it's important I contact him. I’ve got matters that demand his attention, and they won’t wait. Where am I most likely to find him?”

  Vosper said, wetting his lips, “I…er…I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Swann, but I’ve made it my business not to tell them and I hope you’ll tell Mr. Avery that if you catch up with him.”

  It was clear from Vosper's words and manner that Josh was in some kind of trouble, possibly financial trouble and in view of his purpose here the thought was disturbing. He said, urgently, “You know Mr. Avery and I are business associates, even if he hasn’t told you we served together in the field. Would I be likely to do anything to make things more difficult for him? I might even be able to help him. Have the bailiffs been here?”

  “Among others,” the man said, gloomily, and at last stepped aside to let Adam into the hall, after which he locked the door and re-attached the cha
in.

  They went into Avery's smokery, a bachelor's apartment in every particular, although it was cleanly kept and the reek of stale tobacco was due to the windows being closed and the blinds drawn, as though in anticipation of the owner's funeral.

  “I’m afraid the Captain has overstepped the mark this time,” Vosper said, making it clear that his master had come very close to doing this frequently during his period of service. “It's not just a matter of debts, sir. Mr. Avery is inclined to run them up, but every now and again, once pressure is applied, he settles them out of hand. I sometimes wonder why he puts us all to so much inconvenience.”

  “Who else has been here apart from the bailiff and the tradesmen?”

  “I couldn’t swear to it, sir, but it might have been the police. A gentleman making inquiries about this lady, sir. I daresay you recognise her, she is very well known I understand,” and he took from his pocket-book a sepia photograph mounted on stiff card showing a woman in a Spanish dress, posing in the middle of a dance. One hand rested on her hip and the other was raised high above her head, both being fitted with castanets.

  It was a conventional pose but the dancer was anything but convential. She had a hard, predatory beauty rare among Latins of her type that suggested the Andalusian gipsy, or possibly someone with a strong dash of Moorish blood. Her features had classical conformity and her figure, emphasised by the highwaisted dress, was broad-hipped and sensuous without losing its feline mobility. Adam recognised her instantly, as would almost anyone with a casual knowledge of the London entertainment scene.

  “That's the Seville dancer, Esmerelda, isn’t it?”

  Vosper confirmed that it was, adding that Mr. Avery had been squiring the lady about town during her recent engagements at the Star and two other music-halls.

  “He squires a great number of ladies. Is there anything particularly significant about this one?”

  Vosper looked away and Adam had the impression that anxiety concerning his personal future was doing battle with Vosper's professional discretion as the valet of an acknowledged rake.

  “It's my belief, sir, she's bled Mr. Avery white. Her and her partner. He sometimes accompanied her here.”

  “They’ve been here? Recently?”

  “As recently as a few days ago.”

  “And Mr. Avery? When was he last here?”

  “Two days ago. I didn’t see him, sir, I was marketing and it seems he called for a change of clothes and left again in a matter of minutes. He left my wages and this note. It doesn’t help us much, I’m afraid.”

  He produced a sheet torn from a pocketbook on which was written, in Avery's neat, legible handwriting, “Stay here until I write. J.A.”

  “When did the man you thought of as a police-officer call?”

  “Two hours later, towards evening. He had no warrant but he was civil enough. I told him I believed Mr. Avery was on the Continent and he asked if he could look round the house. I told him not without a search warrant, and he seemed disinclined to press the point and left. Did I do right, Mr. Swann?”

  “Quite right. I daresay he’ll be back however.”

  “Yes sir, he indicated as much.” Then, doubtfully, “I should feel happier if I could let Mr. Avery know about the call.”

  “Have you tried his lawyers, in Portugal Street?”

  “Yes, sir, but they haven’t seen him in weeks. Neither has he written.”

  “Where would I be advised to look for him? It seems to me he might need a friend, and I don’t know that he has many, do you?”

  “No, sir. A great number of acquaintances but few friends, Mr. Swann.”

  It was strange, Adam reflected, that he should say that. Five years had passed since his reassociation with Avery began on that same note. He said, “I think he would consider me a friend, Vosper. If not, then he hasn’t got one, apart from yourself.”

  Vosper said, hesitantly, “There are certain places you could try, sir. Do you know Kate Hamilton's establishment, in Princes Street, Leicester Square?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Vosper did not smile but ran a hand around his jowls. “You might get news there, sir. I don’t know that he’ll thank me for saying that.”

  “I’ll try and if I run him down I’ll insist he writes giving you proper instructions.”

  “Thank you, sir, I should be glad of that.” He paused and seemed to reflect deeply. “I’ve valeted him for a good many years now, sir. Sometimes I’ve thought I should find a more predictable situation, but I was never one for change and Mr. Avery has been kind to me in his way, sir. I’ve no family, you see, but I’m not getting younger and one would like to feel more settled as regards the future.” He seemed to be addressing himself more than his visitor, but when Adam picked up his hat he emerged from his reverie, saying, “It isn’t just a matter of debts, sir. There's something about it that I don’t understand. Mr. Avery has been behaving very strangely of late. As though…knowing him it must seem a little absurd sir… as though he was personally disturbed.”

  “Wouldn’t he be that in any case if he owed more than he could find at short notice?”

  “No, sir. He's very comfortably off. The sale of property would see him through the worst of it, and, as I say, he was never a man to worry about money matters.”

  “It's the woman then?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m not one to pry but one overhears certain things. The last time that dancer and her partner were here there were high words when Mr. Avery showed them to the door. The partner, he's another foreigner, sounded…well, sir, high-handed and threatening. I wouldn’t have been much surprised if it hadn’t come to blows.”

  “Mr. Avery was always able to take care of himself in that respect, Vosper.”

  “I’m sure, sir, but…” suddenly he put aside his doubts, reluctantly but resolutely. “I’d take it as a favour, sir, if you could call at a certain address in Chelsea that I happen to know Mr. Avery once rented on that woman's behalf. I’m virtually sure no one but myself knows about it. It isn’t her formal lodging. She was staying with her partner at the Surrey Hotel but I know she and Mr. Avery went there on occasion.” He crossed the room and opened a small bureau, taking from it a black notebook and thumbing swiftly through the pages. “It's the Chanticleer Gaming Club, not a formal club you understand but a somewhat rough house, patronised by young bloods and women of a certain kind. There is an apartment immediately above—three or four rooms, with a separate entrance in a mews leading down to the river off Cheyne Walk. You’d find it easily enough. I took a case of wine there shortly before Mr. Avery disappeared.”

  “Why haven’t you looked there?”

  Vosper hesitated again and then said, “Mr. Avery's instructions were very explicit on that, sir. I think he was afraid of my being followed, and I do know it was his wish the rendezvous should remain a close secret, particularly from the lady's partner, possibly from some of the people he associated with from time to time.” A fleeting gleam of humour lit the manservant's pale face and then disappeared. For some reason it reminded Adam of the Irish Member's reference to Sir Robert Peel's smile, “the wink of a silver plate on a coffin lid.” “There's considerable competition for the lady's favours, I believe.”

  “I’ll give it a try but not tonight,” Adam told him. “He hasn’t paid me the compliment of getting in touch with me and whilst it's urgent I see him on commercial matters I don’t intend to lose sleep over his junketings. If I do find him I’ll let you know, Vosper. I take it you’ll do the same for me?”

  “You can rely on it, sir.”

  Vosper preceded him to the door and let him out into the darkening street. A cutting wind kept the evening drizzle at bay, chasing leaves from adjacent plane trees along the pavement. No cabs were in sight so Adam turned east, heading for the Gray's Inn Road, where he knew there was a rank. At the corner of Theobalds Road, however, something caused him to stop and scrutinise a hoarding that he had seen out of the corner of his eye. It was a pla
ybill broadsheet, advertising the weekly change of programme and in large type, near the head of the bill, he saw the words “Notable Attraction,” and below them, in bolder type, “Esmerelda & Figaro, Exotic Dancers from Spain.” What really checked him, however, was not the bill itself but a yellow sticker pasted crosswise over the Spaniards’ names, overprinted with the words, “Replaced by Monsieur Vidocq, Noted Escapologist,” indicating that there had been an abrupt change of programme.