‘That’s just what we don’t know. Going off like that without telling anyone! What did he say to you?’
‘I thought I’d find him here-leastways-’
‘You’d better come in, Crutchley,’ said Peter.
‘Right, sir!’ said Crutchley, with some appearance of relief at having a man to deal with. He withdrew in the direction of the back door, where, to judge by the sounds, h was received by Mrs Ruddle with a volume of explanatory narrative.
‘Frank would run over to Broxford, I’m sure,’ said Miss Twitterton, ‘and find out what’s happened to Uncle. He might be ill-though you’d think he’d have sent for me, wouldn’t you? Frank could get a car from the garage-he drives for Mr Hancock at Pagford you know, and I tried to get him this morning before I came, but he was out with a taxi. He’s very clever with cars, and such a good gardener I’m sure you won’t mind my mentioning it, but if you’ve bought the house and want someone to do the garden-’
‘He’s kept it awfully well,’ said Harriet. ‘I thought it looked lovely.’
‘I’m so glad you think so. He works so hard, and he’s so anxious to get on-’
‘Come in, Crutchley,’ said Peter.
The gardener, hesitating now at the door of the room with his face to the light, showed himself as an alert, well-set-up young man of about thirty, neatly dressed in a suit of working clothes and carrying his cap respectfully in his hand. His crisp dark hair, blue eyes and strong white teeth produced a favourable impression, though at the moment he looked slightly put out. From his glance at Miss Twitterton, Harriet gathered that he had overheard her panegyric of him and disapproved of it.
‘This,’ went on Peter, ‘comes a little unexpected, what?’
‘Well, yes, sir.’ The gardener smiled, and sent his quick glance roving over Mr Puffett. ‘I see it’s the chimney.’
‘It ain’t the chimney,’ began the sweep indignantly; when Miss Twitterton broke in: ‘But, Frank, don’t you understand? Uncle’s sold the house and gone away without telling anybody. I can’t make it out, it’s not like him. Nothing done and nothing ready and nobody here last night to let anybody in, and Mrs Ruddle knew nothing except that he’d gone to Broxford-’
‘Well, have you sent over there to look for him?’ inquired the young man in a vain endeavour to stem the tide.
‘No, not yet-unless Lord Peter-did you?-or no, there wouldn’t be time, would there?-no keys, even, and I really was ashamed you should have had to come last night like that, but of course I never dreamt-and you could so easily, have run over this morning, Frank-or I could go myself on my bicycle-but Mr Hancock told me you were out with a taxi, so I thought I’d better just call and see.’
Frank Crutchley’s eyes wandered over the room as though seeking counsel from the dust-sheets, the aspidistras, the chimney, the bronze horsemen, Mr Puffett’s bowler, the cactus and the radio cabinet, before at length coming to rest on Peter’s in mute appeal.
‘Let’s start from the right end,’ suggested Wimsey. ‘Mr Noakes was here last Wednesday and went off the same night to catch the ten o’clock bus to Broxford. That was nothing unusual, I gather. But he expected to be back to deal with the matter of our arrival, and you, in fact, expected to find him here today.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
Miss Twitterton gave a little jump and her mouth shaped itself into an anxious O.
‘Is he usually here when you come on Wednesdays?’
‘Well, that depends, sir. Not always.’
‘Frank!’ cried Miss Twitterton, outraged, ‘it’s Lord Peter Wimsey. You ought to say “my lord”.’
‘Never mind that now,’ said Peter, kindly, but irritated by this interference with his witness. Crutchley looked at Miss Twitterton with the expression of a small boy who has been publicly exhorted to wash behind the ears, and said: ‘Some days he’s here, some not. If he ain’t,’ (Miss Twitterton frowned), ‘I gets the key from her’ (he jerked his head at Miss Twitterton) ‘to come in and wind the clock and see to the pot-plants. But I did reckon to see him this morning because I had particular business with him. That’s why I come up to the house first-came, if you like’ (he added crossly, in response to Miss Twitterton’s anxious prompting; ‘it’s all one, I dessay, to my lord.’
‘To his lordship,’ said Miss Twitterton, faintly.
‘Did he actually tell you he’d be here?’
‘Yes-my lord. Leastways he said as he’d let me have back some money I’d put into that business of his. Promised it back today.’
‘Oh, Frank! You’ve been worrying Uncle again. I’ve told you you’re just being silly about your money. I know it’s quite safe with Uncle.’
Peter’s glance crossed Harriet’s over Miss Twitterton’s head. ‘He said he’d let you have it this morning. May I ask whether it was any considerable sum?’
‘Matter o’ forty pound,’ said the gardener, ‘as he got me to put into his wireless business. Mayn’t seem a lot to you,’ he went on a little uncertainly, as though trying to assess the financial relationship between Peter’s title, his ancient and shabby blazer, his manservant and his wife’s non-committal tweeds, ‘but I’ve got a better use for it, and so I told him. I asked for it last week and he palavered as usual, sayin’ he didn’t keep sums like that in the house-puttin’ me off.’
‘But, Frank, of course he didn’t. He might have been robbed. He did lose ten pounds once, in a pocket-book.’
‘But I stuck to it,’ pursued Crutchley, unheeding, ‘sayin’ I must have it, and at last he said he’d let me have it today, as he’d got some money coming in-’
‘He said that?’
‘Yes, sir-my lord-and I says to him, I hope you do, says, and if you don’t, I’ll have the law on you.’
‘Oh, Frank, you shouldn’t have said that!’
‘Well, I did say it. Can’t you let me tell his lordship what he wants to know?’
Harriet’s glance had caught Peter’s again, and he had nodded. The money for the house. But if he had told Crutchley as much as that-‘Did he say where this money of his was coming from?’
‘Not him. He’s not the sort to tell more than he has to. Matter of fact, I never thought he was expecting no money in particular. Making excuses, he was. Never pays out money till the last moment, and not then if he can ’elp it. Might lose ’arf a day’s interest, don’t you see,’ added Crutchley, with a sudden half-reluctant grin.
‘Sound principle, so far as it goes,’ said Wimsey.
‘That’s right; that’s the way he’s made his bit. He’s a warm man, is Mr Noakes. Still, all the same for that, I told him I wanted the forty pound for my new garridge-’
‘Yes, the garahge,’ put in Miss Twitterton, with a corrective little frown and shake of the head. ‘Frank’s been saving up a long time to start his own garahge.’
‘So,’ repeated Crutchley with emphasis, ‘wantin’ the money for the garridge, I said, “I’ll see my money Wednesday,” I said, “or I’ll ’ave the law on you.” That’s what I said. And I went out sharp and I ain’t seen him since.’
‘I see. Well’-Peter glanced from Crutchley to Miss Twitterton and back again-’we’ll run over to Broxford presently and hunt the gentleman up, and then we can get it straight. In the meantime, we shall want the garden kept in order, so perhaps you’d better carry on as usual.’
‘Very good, my lord. Shall I come Wednesday same as before? Five shillings, Mr Noakes give me by the day.’
‘I’ll give you the same. Do you know anything about running an electric light plant, by the way?’
‘Yes, my lord; there’s one at the garridge where I work.’
‘Because,’ said Peter, with a smile at his wife, ‘though candles and oil-stoves have their romantic moments and all that, I think we shall really have to electrify Talboys.’