Galleon House

by Margaret Malcolm

  “I’m not too tired,” she told him, and ran up to her room. She peeled off her warm coat and her bathing suit and put on her dressing gown. She was just about to enter her bathroom when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and halted. Slowly she moved closer and studied her face intently. She ought to look different, too. She certainly felt different.

  Simon was already in the dining room when she entered. He was standing at the window, but he turned instantly and gave her a quick glance of approval. Andrea, who had deliberately chosen a blue dress that matched her eyes, wondered if he had noticed how it became her, but his first remark was rather disappointing.

  “You look as fresh as if you’d slept like an infant in your own bed all night!”

  “But I did sleep quite a lot,” she reminded him. “It’s you who are amazing. You were up all night, yet you look alert enough to tackle any problem!”

  Immediately she wished she had not said that, because Simon’s face grew grave.

  “I hope so!” he replied grimly.

  It was rather a silent meal, and a quick one, for neither of them wanted to postpone the coming interview any longer than was necessary.

  “Finished?” Simon asked, and when Andrea nodded: “Then shall we go up to the study? I’ve given orders that I’m not to be disturbed.”

  He led the way and opened the study door that Andrea noticed, he had locked as Leo had always done. Then he stood aside for her to enter and, as carefully, locked the door behind them.

  “Sit down.” He indicated the most comfortable chair and Andrea was glad to sink down into it. Now that the time for frankness had come she found that her legs did not seem strong enough to keep her upright.

  Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Andrea lifted her eyes appealingly to Simon. He responded instantly.

  “Andrea, my dear, we will come straight to the point,” he said quietly but resolutely. “You’ve got to face it. The past is dead.”

  “I know,” Andrea admitted soberly. “Dead ... with Leo!”

  Simon touched her hand gently.

  “Don’t regret it too much, child! There is the future, you know. You must look ahead to that.”

  Suddenly Andrea buried her face in her hands.

  “I can’t!” she confessed tremulously. “How can I when I don’t know what it will bring or what to do with it? It frightens me even to think of it!”

  “Why?” Simon asked.

  “Because ... oh, because the past is dead!” Andrea explained forlornly. “And it was my life. The only thing I knew. The future is bound to be different and ... and I shall be different, too. I ... I shall be a stranger—to myself!”

  “Not really.”

  She looked at him in a puzzled way, shaking her head slightly. “What I mean is this,” he explained carefully. “There are qualities in you that will never change because they are an essential part of you. Your sense of loyalty. Your fearlessness. Your honesty—”

  A faint, wry smile twisted Andrea’s lips, and Simon nodded. “Oh, I know! Smuggling isn’t honest and, in addition, you quite deliberately attempted to deceive me. But that was your last brave attempt to cling to the past—and a quite natural desire to prove to yourself and to me that I was a pretty poor specimen of a Trevaine. A coward, in fact!”

  “I was wrong,” Andrea said quickly. “It needed a lot of courage to do what you did last night.”

  “That’s generous of you,” he said appreciatively. “Yes, it did! But I had no alternative, and when one is face to face with a situation like that ... well, one just has to go through with it. And, to be absolutely honest, Andrea, it was not only because I’m determined to stop this business. It was also because I’ve made a discovery which makes it impossible—one which, I think, must have put Leo into something of a dilemma.”

  “Yes?” Andrea asked breathlessly.

  Simon hesitated a moment as if he was marshaling his thoughts in order to make the situation unmistakably clear to her.

  “You know, I expect, that in order to have a ready explanation for the sums of money that came to Leo he had been in the habit of sending various pieces of jewelry for sale from time to time? And that these were invariably bought by an agent of the combine who subsequently returned them to Leo?”

  “Yes, I know that,” Andrea admitted.

  “In the underground safe Leo kept a description of all these pieces together with the date when they were sold. And, of course, the returned jewelry itself. I found it all there.” Again he paused and then, leaning forward, said emphatically: “But nothing else.”

  “Nothing else?” Andrea looked puzzled. “I don’t understand...”

  “Apart from the jewelry already used in these mock sales, there is nothing else to play the same part,” Simon said deliberately.

  “But ... but there must be—somewhere!” Andrea stammered. “I mean ... the Trevaine treasure is fabulous—everybody knows about it.”

  “Leo was an excellent man of business. Quite apart from these side activities, I mean. His estate papers are in apple-pie order. There is a detailed account of every investment he ever made and a note of where the relevant papers are deposited. But there is no record whatever of any jewels being in a safe deposit or a bank,” Simon said with grim finality.

  For a moment Andrea digested the astonishing information in silence.

  “Then where has it all gone?” she asked.

  Simon shrugged his shoulders.

  “Partly in taxation, of course. But mostly, I imagine, because the Victorian and Edwardian Trevaines preferred to live at their ease on the wealth that their ancestors had collected in various ways,” Simon told her dryly. “Then, in the next generation, there were three sons and a daughter to provide for. The daughter would have to have a substantial dowry in keeping with the family position, there was the estate to keep up as well as the two younger sons—not but what, so far as I know, my grandfather took almost nothing with him to New Zealand,” he added reflectively.

  “I expect you’re glad of that, aren’t you?” Andrea asked wistfully, and Simon nodded.

  “Yes, I am,” he admitted. “But to be perfectly fair, I think he enjoyed having a struggle and coming out on top. Still, that’s by the way. As far as the family here was concerned, there was a period when there was precious little chance of making big money without much effort in a way that a Trevaine would consider suitable. So it was all outgoing with nothing coming in. Until Leo became the master. He was faced with a choice of selling up or doing what he did. How he made his contact I have no idea—” He looked inquiringly at Andrea, but she shook her head.

  “No, I don’t know, either. But I think it might have been that someone who knew the family history and who realized how short he must have been of money got in touch with him,” she suggested thoughtfully.

  “I think you may well be right,” Simon agreed.

  “Madam would know,” Andrea added.

  “Possibly. Possibly not. In any case, there is a reason why I don’t want to worry her. That I also want to discuss with you—but we will finish with this first. You realize that the jewelry that has been returned can’t be put to the same use again. Even if they were broken down and reset, they would have been recognized—such stones are minutely recorded, you know, at the time of such a sale. So, as I said, Leo was faced with a difficult decision. What he would have done, I don’t know.”

  “I think he would have taken a chance,” Andrea interjected. “He was like that, you know. I think he would have enjoyed the risk because probably he found it quite dull to feel reasonably safe.”

  “You may be right,” Simon agreed. “But as I see it, quite apart from any question of morals, if I had agreed to go on with this game I should not only have been risking my own skin. If I had been caught at it, then so would all the men in St. Finbar. Or a good many of them. And that I will not have!” He brought his hand down with a crash on the desk, and Andrea, seeing the grim lines of his face, knew that
there was absolutely no appeal against that decision as, without doubt, the men on the Cormorant had known as well.

  “But—” Andrea pondered “—it isn’t just as simple as that, is it? I mean, you didn’t take part in any of it, but you know about it now. Doesn’t that make you a ... a...” She stumbled for the description she wanted.

  “An accessory after the fact?” Simon said grimly. “Yes, it does. What I ought to do is hand the whole matter over to the police and make what reparation I can. Only that would bring disaster to my people as surely as if we got caught running a cargo.”

  “And to Madam and me,” Andrea said soberly. “Because we knew about it all the time.”

  Simon did not reply. Andrea had put her finger on his greatest problem. In theory, it was simple enough. He knew quite well what a dispassionate adviser would say was the right thing to do. As regards his own inheritance, he would have taken that course unhesitatingly. But not only did he feel deeply responsible for the village people whom one of his own blood had led astray, there was a very old woman and a young girl whom he loved with all his heart to be considered.

  “There must be some way out...” Andrea puzzled, biting her lip as she tried to think of one.

  Simon smiled wryly.

  “If there is, I haven’t thought of it yet,” he told her. “Still, that’s my worry, not yours. I should not have told you this, but I saw no alternative.”

  Silence fell between them. Then Andrea said hesitantly:

  “You said there was something you wanted to tell me about Madam?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “Something which, actually, you may have seen for yourself. She is slowly but quite unmistakably dying.”

  Andrea stared at him incredulously.

  “I ... I knew that she was very tired and frail,” she stammered. “But dying—Madam dying! It doesn’t seem possible! There ... there has always been—Madam! Are you ... are you quite sure?”

  “Quite sure, my dear,” Simon said pitifully. “You see, she no longer wishes to live. Something of her died with Leo—and my decision not to carry on after him was another blow. Unlike you, she is too old to face change. So ... He shook his head.

  “In many ways, Andrea, I would like you to leave St. Finbar at once. It would be better for you and—easier for me. Much easier. But, for Madam’s sake, I’ll be grateful if you will stay. You see, except for me, a comparative stranger, you are the last of her own family.”

  “You forget, I’m not of her family!” There was no bitterness in Andrea’s voice, only regret for Madam.

  Simon shook his head.

  “I think you are the best Trevaine of us all,” he said simply. “Strong, but tender! And I think, at the end, Madam will cling to you because of that and because yours is the one familiar face out of the past. So will you stay?”

  “I will stay as long as you want me to,” Andrea promised steadily.

  “I thought you would say that.” Simon gave her a warm, comradely smile that made her heart beat a little quicker.

  But she wished that Simon had not said it would make it easier for him if she were to go.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Now that Simon had opened Andrea’s eyes to the true state of affairs, it seemed to her that there was a change in Madam every day. It was very gradual but quite unmistakable. Madam, who not so very long ago had made the activities of every person in the house her personal concern, now lay quietly in her big bed. She slept a lot, and when she was awake it seemed to Andrea that she was seeing not what was happening now but what had happened in her distant past. For sometimes her dark eyes would snap with amusement and sometimes they would be tender and sad.

  It was a new experience to Andrea. And one which brought perplexity and a new emotion to her.

  She had always known that Madam had no particular affection for her. Even as a child she had been subconsciously aware of it. Then it had puzzled her, but lately she had understood. There had been no blood tie between them, and in her Madam had seen no more than a means to an end. To be quite honest, she knew that she had never given Madam any love either. Fear, respect and admiration, yes. But not love.

  Nor did love suddenly grow now. But something else did. Pity and tenderness toward someone who had been great and was now so frail and weak.

  Not that her tongue had lost any of its habitual power. No matter how quickly and carefully Andrea performed any task for her, she seldom succeeded in pleasing Madam entirely. She was slow, she was clumsy, she was not thinking about what she was doing. Madam positively hurled abuse at her.

  Despite all that he had on his mind, Simon had set himself a task which he pursued, no matter what the weather. He visited each farm, each cottage on the estate and made the acquaintance of every tenant. In many of the homes he was received with very evident suspicion and mistrust. It did not surprise him, but he steadfastly refused to make any attempt at ingratiating himself with them. That, he was sure, they would regard as weakness and despise him for it. No, there was only way of getting them—and himself—out of this mess, and that was to show them that he was the master and that, though in a different way, his rule would be as inflexible as Leo’s. And at least they had accepted his explanation as to why further smuggling was out of the question.

  Of Luke he neither heard nor saw anything. And he could not ask for information. It must be perfectly clear to everyone, as it was to him, that all Luke’s hatred of Leo would now be concentrated on him. To ask questions would suggest that he was afraid.

  That sooner or later Luke would return he was convinced. It would be when the man’s frustrated hatred rose to such a pitch that it overcame the cowardice that Simon sensed was there. And this time he would see to it that he did not fail. So Simon never went out without carrying a heavy stick. Not that it would be much good, he thought grimly, if he was once again to be the victim of a smoothly flicked knife.

  Actually, he did receive warning of Luke’s return—from Andrea. After a visit to the village, she came in search of him. “I think Luke is back,” she said without preamble.

  Simon nodded.

  “I thought he would be, fairly soon,” he said quietly. “But what makes you think so?”

  “I came through the woods,” Andrea explained breathlessly. “It wasn’t that I saw him—but there was someone there who wouldn’t show himself. I know there was because of the way the birds were disturbed and ... and I had a feeling of being watched. It doesn’t sound much.” She watched his expressionless face anxiously, afraid that he would not believe her. “But when you’re country born and bred—”

  To her relief, Simon nodded.

  “I know. It’s quite unmistakable. Thank you, Andrea. I’ll be on my guard. And so must you be. Yours is the greater danger, you know. Not only has Luke a score to pay against you but—I wouldn’t put it past him to get even with me by attacking you!”

  “Oh!” Andrea said quickly. “Would you—”

  “So,” Simon went on without having appeared to notice the interruption, “I must ask you not to go down to the village through the woods again. In fact, go as little as possible, and when you do, go in the car. Promise?”

  “Very well,” she agreed. “But ... but how about you?” Simon smiled and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “Thanks to you, I’m at least warned. And I assure you, I shall take no foolish risks. At the same time, I can’t run away, Andrea.”

  “No,” she admitted steadily, “you can’t do that.”

  But she felt as if her heart had been wrenched out of her body. If anything happened to Simon—if he was killed...

  Simon was reasonably certain that he saw Luke the very next day—only for a fleeting second, but the way in which the man instantly ducked and ran was confirmation in itself. And Simon, forgetting his decision to take no risks, instantly went in pursuit. Except for a few low bushes there was little or no cover in the direction in which Luke had run, he reasoned. He ought to be able to get another glimpse of him q
uite easily.

  But when he reached the spot where he had first seen Luke, there was not a soul in sight. His quarry appeared to have vanished into thin air.

  Considerably puzzled, Simon returned to the house to be met with a message that Madam would like to see him as soon as possible. He went immediately and found her propped up in bed, her face flushed and anxious.

  “Andrea tells me she thinks Luke is back,” she said, and Simon nodded grimly.

  “He is. I’ve just seen him.”

  Madam somehow found the strength to sit erect.

  “You have? And ... nothing happened?”

  Simon shook his head.

  “He knew that I had seen him and that I was prepared. He will wait until I’m off my guard.”

  Madam nodded. “As he did before!”

  “Oh, so it was Luke,” Simon said with interest. “I always thought it was, of course, but I couldn’t be sure. I had my back to him, you see.”

  “Of course it was Luke!” Madam spat scornfully “And he used Leo’s knife in the hope of incriminating him. It would have been very easy seeing that, in most people’s eyes, Leo had every reason for wanting you out of the way!”

  “Oh?” Simon looked sharply at Madam, who, despite the gravity of the situation, seemed amused. “It would appear that I’ve not been so clever at keeping my feelings to myself as I thought,” he observed. “So it’s common knowledge, is it?”