Albert swallowed nervously.
“You might say he is,” he said weakly.
The major mopped his brow and struggled for composure.
“I am glad to know that,” he said at last, “I am glad to know that he is your valet. For I want you to answer a little question for me, Mr. Addin. That is,” the major was icily polite, “if you don’t mind.”
Albert liked none of this. The major was breathing like a runaway locomotive, and his frosty blue eyes were glaring at him as if he were something that had been caught crawling from the woodwork.
“You don’t mind, do you?” The major’s voice was rising in pitch and volume.
Albert looked at George. George was shifting from one big foot to the other in obvious embarrassment and misery. Aunt Annabelle, Albert was aware, was taking in the scene in undisguised satisfaction. Margot was staring miserably at her plate and wringing the napkin she held in her hands. Albert’s gaze came unwillingly back to Major Mastiff. He attempted an ingratiating smile.
“Ha, ha,” he laughed unconvincingly, “do I get twenty silver dollars if I answer it correctly?”
The major’s cheeks swelled up into miniature balloons.
“Tell me,” he bellowed suddenly and wildly, “why your valet chopped down Mastiff Oak?”
The words bounced and echoed from the oaken rafters to the solid pine floor like the sound of doomsday itself. Albert’s heart would have popped out his mouth had he not clamped his teeth together. He stared in horror from the major to George and in George’s eyes he saw—guilt. So that was it! George had chopped down the tree and the major naturally thought that he, Albert, was responsible for it. Albert breathed easier. A simple explanation, brisk and to the point, and the whole thing would be cleared up.
“Major Mastiff,” he began formally, “I—”
He stopped as he saw George tugging at the sleeve of the major’s coat. The major wheeled.
“In Heaven’s name,” he bellowed, “what do you want, you gibbering halfwit?”
“He told me to do it,” George pointed at Albert, “he told me that he wanted some kindling.”
“Oh he did!” The major’s voice was like a condor’s scream. He turned to Albert, breathing through his nose. “I should have known better,” he cried hoarsely, “I invited you here against my better judgment. You are an irresponsible, unreliable, thoroughly incompetent moron. You have descended from a long line of the same. You are a destructive, brainless spendthrift. You are—”
“But, Major,” Albert interrupted desperately. He knew the cards were stacked against him but he had to make some case for himself. George had utterly and hopelessly betrayed him. He had mentioned something about kindling, but not a word had passed the Addin lips to the effect that forest heirlooms were to be destroyed to accomplish the purpose.
“If you are not off the grounds by five o’clock,” the major cried wrathfully, “I’ll set the dogs on you. If I ever see you in my daughter’s company again I’ll hunt you down with my elephant gun and blow you into six-hundred pieces. I’ve bad enough. In the future, if you speak to me or my family, you do it at your own risk. Do I make myself clear?”
“By reading between the lines,” Albert said morosely, “I get what you’re hinting at. You don’t really want my autograph then?”
With an anguished bleat Major Mastiff wheeled and staggered blindly from the room. George, Albert noticed grimly, had disappeared too.
AUNT ANNABELLE rose from the table with stiff dignity and, with a frigid, disapproving glance in Albert’s direction, retired from the room. Margot remained at the table, crying softly into her handkerchief.
Albert sat down beside her.
“That does it,” he sighed ruefully, “I haven’t learned the knack yet of creeping into the old boy’s heart. I’d better start to pack.” He looked tenderly at Margot’s elfin profile and patted her softly on the shoulder.
“For old time’s sake,” he said fervently, “will you be a good girl and slip the shells from the old boy’s elephant gun?”
Margot stopped sniffing and looked at him, determination in her eye.
“You’re not going to pack,” she said firmly “just go to your room and wait. I’m going to have a try at softening father up.”
“How do you go about it?” Albert asked with professional interest. “Do you use something hard like a baseball bat or does something blunt and dull do the trick?”
“Silly,” Margot smiled. “I find two blue eyes and four large tears more effective than anything else.”
“I’ll wait upstairs,” Albert said dubiously. “If you fail, try and give me a few minutes warning. Your father would appreciate a moving target, I think. And I can promise you I would really move.”
Margot squared her small jaw stubbornly.
“I’ll swing him around. I’m almost sure of it. I’m going to convince him you aren’t as bad as he thinks you are. You go to your room and wait there for me. I’ll beard father in his den.” Albert kissed her fondly. “You brave, brave girl,” he said admiringly.
SOME minutes later Albert slipped quietly into his room. He had little hope of Margot changing her father’s mind and so, with the caution of the Addin clan, he intended to get things ready for a speedy departure.
His room, he discovered then, was not unoccupied. Squatting on the floor was George, the genie, and another individual dressed in a white apron and a chef’s hat. Stacks of greenbacks were piled before this latter chap, and Albert heard the music click of ivory cubes as they bounced across the floor.
The cook scrambled to his feet as Albert entered.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said breathlessly, “but me and your man was just indulgin’ in a harmless game of dice, sir. I was just taking my leave, sir, as you came in.”
“Then take it,” Albert said, “and take your winnings too. I want to talk to my man alone. If I should decide to draw and quarter him I wouldn’t want anyone around to stop it.”
The cook stooped and stuffed several thick wads of currency into his pockets and then left the room hurriedly.
“Before we get down to the important things,” Albert said darkly, “I’d like to know where you got all that money you lost?”
George beamed broadly.
“Sure, Boss. I’ll show yuh. Yuh seemed to like dat green stuff I got yuh dis morning so I went back and got some more of it. I yam only trying to be a good genie.”
Albert considered the matter thoughtfully.
“So you just went back and got some more eh?” he asked quietly.
“Yup,” George answered hesitantly. “Where did you go?” Albert asked patiently.
“To a place,” George answered brightly, “to a place where they got it.” Albert settled down in a chair and crossed his knees carefully. He lighted a cigarette and blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. Somehow, it seemed desperately important to him to do these unimportant things deliberately and methodically. George stood before him, his face a mixture of anxiety and fear.
“Have you got any more of this stuff?” Albert asked casually.
“Yup,” George’s voice was happy and hopeful, “I brung lots of it cause I thought youse would like it.”
Albert had a temporary siege of dizziness, but it passed, leaving him outwardly calm, but inwardly shaking. “Where is it?” he managed to ask. George was smiling broadly.
“I knew yuh would like it,” he said relieved. “I yam glad ’cause I only want to do things yuh will like.”
“That is very touching,” Albert said, with a bit of irritation, “but please tell me where the rest of the stuff is.”
“Oh sure,” George said anxiously.
He stepped to the closet door and jerked it open.
ALBERT sucked in his breath sharply, jolted completely from his affected calm and indifference. For the closet was literally stuffed full of bundle after bundle of crisp, green banknotes!
Piled six feet from the floor, they formed a c
olumn fully two feet square.
“There must be,” Albert thought with a sickening gasp, “millions on millions of dollars cached in that closet!”
“George,” he gasped weakly, “where did you get this stuff?”
“From the place,” George answered proudly, “from the place wit all the steel bars and cages. I found all this stuff down in de basement in a big vault. I just took all I could see. Why? Ain’tcha glad?”
“No,” moaned Albert, “I am not glad. This is stolen property. I’ll go to jail for grand larceny, and by the time I get out I’ll have whiskers down to my knees.”
“Don’cha like whiskers,” George asked solicitously.
Albert sighed helplessly.
“No,” he said, with a quiet prayer for patience, “I don’t like whiskers.” Before George could reply there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Albert asked, heart hammering wildly in sudden guilt.
“It’s me. Margot.”
Albert slammed the closet door shut. “Coming dear!” he sang out. He shoved George into the bathroom and closed the door on his bewildered, wounded countenance. “Right away dear!” he cried with false heartiness. He hurried across the room then, throwing open the door. Margot was in the hallway, a mischievous smile dancing in her eyes.
“The elephant gun,” she announced solemnly, “has been hung back on the wall and all the cartridges removed.”
“Darling,” Albert cried unbelievingly, “it’s too good to be true!”
“You’re forgiven,” Margot said seriously, “but you must be on your best behavior from now on. Father is still furious but he’s willing to let bygones be bygones.”
“Very sporting of the old boy,” Albert said cheerfully. “I’ll be the model young man for the rest of my stay.”
“Since you’re staying,” Margot said resolutely, “I’ll help you unpack. The closet in this room is in a frightful state. It should have been straightened out before you arrived, but we can attend to it now.” She smiled up at him. “It’ll be kind of fun working together won’t it? As if it were our own place.”
Albert smiled down at her and wondered how such an angel could actually be in love with him. “Come in, darling,” he said blissfully, “we’ll pitch right into it, clean things up in—” His voice choked off in his throat as one appalling thought suddenly struck him. The closet was packed with ill-gotten currency of the realm. He would be branded a vicious bank robber while his promises to be on his best behavior were still echoing through the room!
“No, no,” he cried, “you can’t go in there!”
“WHY, ALBERT,” Margot stared at him in amazement. “What do you mean?”
“I—I mean,” Albert thought desperately, “I won’t have you lowering yourself. That’s what I mean. I—I’ll do the work, er, after you’ve gone. I don’t want you soiling those little white hands of yours. What kind of a man do you think I am anyway?”
“Oh, Albert,” Margot laughed, “that is sweet of you. But it’s also very silly. I don’t mind the work a bit. And it simply has to be done. So let’s get busy.”
“No,” Albert cried frantically, “you don’t understand, Margot! You really mustn’t go into this closet. This is very serious, dear, and I wish you would respect my wishes.”
“Albert,” Margot said worriedly, “you’re acting awfully strange.”
Albert thought frantically.
“My aunt was killed from overwork,” he lied brazenly, “and since that day I can’t bear to see any woman working. I’ve never told you—but now you know how I feel.”
“You never told me about your aunt,” Margot said suspiciously. “I understood that you didn’t have any.”
“Life’s little surprises,” Albert said inanely. “Variety is the spice of things y’know. Aunt Agatha was a great old girl. She used to shovel coal, split wood, haul ice, take care of the horses. Indispensable type y’know. But the strain told on her and just before her ninetieth birthday she passed away. We all missed her terribly. The horses most of all. So that’s how it is. Till this day I can’t bear to see the weaker sex putting their nose to the wheel as it were.”
He took her by the arm and led her to the door.
“I’ll take care of the closet,” he said blithely. “Pip! Pip!”
“You are completely crazy,” she murmured. “It’s a wonder I put up with you at all. I’ll leave, for you obviously want me to, but don’t forget dinner at six. It’s your last chance to prove to father that you haven’t got squirrel blood in you.”
“But I have,” Albert pointed out solemnly, before he closed the door.
“Why didn’tcha let her in the closet?” George’s voice, perplexed and unhappy, sounded behind him.
Albert turned wearily.
“You wouldn’t understand George,” he said, sighing. “It’s very involved.”
“Would it fix things,” George asked intently, “if I wuz to fill all the closets up with that green stuff?”
“No!” Albert shouted. His patience was fraying fast. “Why don’t you leave me alone? You bother me. You give me a pain in the neck.”
“You—you mean that?” George asked sorrowfully.
“Certainly,” Albert snapped.
“Okay,” George sighed. “I don’t like to do it but I yam only trying to please.” The genie waved one hand in the air slowly and Albert felt a sudden sharp pain flash up his back to his neck.
“Ouch,” he yelled. “What the devil are you doing?”
George looked bewilderedly apologetic.
“You told me to give you a pain in the neck,” he said stubbornly. “I yam only doing what I yarn told.”
“All right, all right,” Albert said desperately. “Get a towel and some hot water.”
IT TOOK George the rest of the afternoon to massage Albert’s neck back to its customary limberness and wellbeing. By the time the job was done Albert had to break all speed records in clambering into his evening clothes. It wouldn’t do to be late for dinner tonight, of all nights. The old boy would simply scalp him without any preliminaries at all.
“Stay up here in the room,” he warned George before he left. “Keep out of trouble. If I need anything I’ll come back up.”
George nodded understanding, quiet pleased that Albert was entrusting such valuable orders to him.
Albert hurried to the library. Aunt Annabelle was there with Margot. Major Mastiff was standing before the fireplace talking to two strangers dressed in conservative grey suits. They looked up as Albert entered. Major Mastiff turned and glared into the fire, leaving Margot to handle the introductions.
“Albert,” she said somewhat uneasily, “these gentlemen are government agents. They’re down here to investigate a very baffling robbery that occurred at the town bank some time today.”
Albert swallowed suddenly. His heart began to leap at his ribs like an imprisoned rabbit.
“V-very glad to know you,” he stammered. One of the agents was heavy and dark and a Smith. The other was light and fair and a Jones. They shook hands firmly.
“U-unexpected pleasure,” Albert assured them lamely, “did you say you were down here on a bank robbery?” The Smith answered:
“Yes. As a matter of fact we’ve traced the notes to this locality. It seems Major Mastiff’s cook spent a good deal of money this afternoon in the village tavern and when we checked on the bills we discovered them to be those which were stolen from the bank this morning. We hurried here but it seems the bird has flown the coop. The cook didn’t return from the village so he’s probably miles away from here by this time.”
Albert was perspiring profusely. He remembered all too well that the cook had won the banknotes from George after lunch. Here the tireless wolves of the law were sniffing around and a closet full of incriminating bills was directly over their heads.
“Too bad about the cook,” he murmured half-heartedly. “I suppose he’s gone for good now,” he added hopefully.
�
�Not at all,” the Jones answered, laughing. “We’ll have him in custody in twenty-four hours. And when we do we’ll find out who his confederates are in short order.”
Margot interrupted to ask the officers to stay for dinner and Albert slumped into a chair, his strength slipping away from him. All hope was dead now. He might just as well give up gracefully and pray that they’d assign him to something light, like sweeping out the prison library.
SO IMMERSED in his own gloomy thoughts was Albert, that he did not notice the slightly frantic discussion going on between the major, Aunt Annabelle and Margot. He didn’t look up until he heard the major’s voice. It wasn’t just the major’s voice that snapped him from his reverie, it was the apologetic tone in it that electrified him.
He peered up and saw that the major was speaking to the two government agents.
“I am completely desolated,” the major was saying humbly. “Never in all the years I have been head of Mastiff Manor have we been placed in such a humiliating position. Our hospitality, sir, is a watchword in this part of the country and it pains us most grievously to be forced to admit that the absence of our cook makes it impossible for us to ask you to dine with us. Not for forty years has it been necessary for us to turn anyone from our door. The bitter necessity that forces us to do so now is deeply regretted by all of us. I am more miserable, sirs, than my words convey. All I can hope for is your understanding and forgiveness.”
“Well,” Albert said practically, “maybe they can come out with us, and we’ll rustle up something. Bread and butter and coffee wouldn’t be too hard to take right now.”
“Bread and butter!” the major echoed stridently, “are you mad? And do you have the unmitigated gall to suggest that Mastiff guests retire to the scullery to prepare their own foods?”
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 53
