LITMIR.BIZ

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open the second bottle of champagne. Hermy and Ursy, perhaps under the influence of the first, perhaps from innate good-nature, perhaps because they were starting so very early next morning, and wanted to be driven into Brinton, instead of taking a slower and earlier train at this station, readily gave up their project of informing the whole of Riseholme of their discovery, and went to bed as soon as they had rooked their brother of eleven shillings at cut-throat bridge. They continued to say, “I’ll play the Guru,” whenever they had to play a knave, but Georgie found it quite easy to laugh at that, so long as the humour of it did not spread. He even himself said, “I’ll Guru you, then,” when he took a trick with the Knave of Trumps.

      The agitation and uncertainty caused him not to sleep very well, and in addition there was a good deal of disturbance in the house, for his sisters had still all their packing in front of them when they went to bed and the doze that preceded sleep was often broken by the sound of the banging of luggage, the clash of golf-clubs and steps on the stairs as they made ready for their departure.

      But after a while these disturbances ceased, and it was out of a deep sleep that he awoke with the sense that some noise had awakened him. Apparently they had not finished yet, for there was surely some faint stir of movement somewhere. Anyhow they respected his legitimate desire for quiet, for the noise, whatever it was, was extremely stealthy and subdued. He thought of his absurd lark about burglars on the night of their arrival, and smiled at the notion. His toupet was in a drawer close to his bed, but he had no substantial impulse to put it on, and make sure that the noise was not anything other than his sisters’ preparations for their early start. For himself, he would have had everything packed and corded long before dinner, if he was to start next day, except just a suit case that would hold the apparatus of immediate necessities, but then dear Hermy and Ursy were so ramshackle in their ways. Some time he would have bells put on all the shutters as he had determined to do a month ago, and then no sort of noise would disturb him any more….

      The Yoga-class next morning was (unusually) to assemble at ten, since Peppino, who would not miss it for anything, was going to have a day’s fishing in the happy stream that flowed into the Avon, and he wanted to be off by eleven. Peppino had made great progress lately and had certain curious dizzy symptoms when he meditated which were highly satisfactory.

      Georgie breakfasted with his sisters at eight (they had enticed the motor out of him to convey them to Brinton) and when they were gone, Foljambe informed him that the housemaid had a sore throat, and had not “done” the drawing-room. Foljambe herself would “do” it, when she had cleaned the “young ladies’” rooms (there was a hint of scorn in this) upstairs, and so Georgie sat on the window seat of the dining-room, and thought how pleasant peace and quietness were. But just when it was time to start for The Hurst in order to talk over the disclosures of the night before with Lucia before the class, and perhaps to frame some secretive policy which would obviate further exposure, he remembered that he had left his cigarette-case (the pretty straw one with the turquoise in the corner) in the drawing-room and went to find it. The window was open, and apparently Foljambe had just come in to let fresh air into the atmosphere which Hermy and Ursy had so uninterruptedly contaminated last night with their “fags” as they called them, but his cigarette-case was not on the table where he thought he had left it. He looked round, and then stood rooted to the spot.

      His glass-case of treasures was not only open but empty. Gone was the Louis XVI snuff-box, gone was the miniature of Karl Huth, gone the piece of Bow China, and gone the Faberge cigarette case. Only the Queen Anne toy-porringer was there, and in the absence of the others, it looked to him, as no doubt it had looked to the burglar, indescribably insignificant.

      Georgie gave a little low wailing cry, but did not tear his hair for obvious reasons. Then he rang the bell three times in swift succession, which was the signal to Foljambe that even if she was in her bath, she must come at once. In she came with one of Hermy’s horrid woolen jerseys that had been left behind, in her hand.

      “Yes, sir, what is it?” she asked, in an agitated manner, for never could she remember Georgie having rung the bell three times except once when a fish-bone had stuck in his throat, and once again when a note had announced to him that Piggy was going to call and hoped to find him alone. For answer Georgie pointed to the rifled treasure-case. “Gone! Burgled!” he said. “Oh, my God!”

      At that supreme moment the telephone bell sounded.

      “See what it is,” he said to Foljambe, and put the Queen Anne toy-porringer in his pocket.

      She came hurrying back.

      “Mrs Lucas wants you to come around at once,” she said.

      “I can’t,” said Georgie. “I must stop here and send for the police. Nothing must be moved,” and he hastily replaced the toy-porringer on the exact circle of pressed velvet where it had stood before.

      “Yes, sir,” said Foljambe, but in another moment she returned.

      “She would be very much obliged if you would come at once,” she said. “There’s been a robbery in the house.”

      “Well, tell her there’s been one in mine,” said Georgie irritably. Then good-nature mixed with furious curiosity came to his aid.

      “Wait here, then, Foljambe, on this very spot,” he said, “and see that nobody touches anything. I shall probably ring up the police from The Hurst. Admit them.”

      In his agitation he put on his hat, instead of going bareheaded and was received by Lucia, who had clearly been looking out of the music-room window, at the door. She wore her Teacher’s Robe.

      “Georgie,” she said, quite forgetting to speak Italian in her greeting, “someone broke into Philip’s safe last night, and took a hundred pounds in bank-notes. He had put them there only yesterday in order to pay in cash for that cob. And my Roman pearls.”

      Georgie felt a certain pride of achievement.

      “I’ve been burgled, too,” he said. “My Louis XVI snuff-box is worth more than that, and there’s the piece of Bow china, and the cigarette-case, and the Karl Huth as well.”

      “My dear! Come inside,” said she. “It’s a gang. And I was feeling so peaceful and exalted. It will make a terrible atmosphere in the house. My Guru will be profoundly affected. An atmosphere where thieves have been will stifle him. He has often told me how he cannot stop in a house where there have been wicked emotions at play. I must keep it from him. I cannot lose him.”

      Lucia had sunk down on a spacious Elizabethan settle in the hall. The humorous spider mocked them from the window, the humorous stone fruit from the plate beside the pot-pourri bowl. Even as she repeated, “I cannot lose him,” again, a tremendous rap came on the front door, and Georgie, at a sign from his queen, admitted Mrs Quantock.

      “Robert and I have been burgled,” she said. “Four silver spoons—thank God, most of our things are plate—eight silver forks and a Georgian tankard. I could have spared all but the last.”

      A faint sign of relief escaped Lucia. If the foul atmosphere of thieves permeated Daisy’s house, too, there was no great danger that her Guru would go back there. She instantly became sublime.

      “Peace!” she said. “Let us have our class first, for it is ten already, and not let any thought of revenge or evil spoil that for us. If I sent for the police now I could not concentrate. I will not tell my Guru what has happened to any of us, but for poor Peppino’s sake I will ask him to give us rather a short lesson. I feel completely calm. Om.”

      Vague nightmare images began to take shape in Georgie’s mind, unworthy suspicions based on his sisters’ information the evening before. But with Foljambe keeping guard over the Queen Anne porringer, there was nothing more to fear, and he followed Lucia, her silver cord with tassels gently swinging as she moved, to the smoking-parlour, where Peppino was already sitting on the floor, and breathing in a rather more agitated manner than was usual with the advanced class. There were fresh flowers on the table, and the scented morning breeze blew in from the garden. According to custom they all sat down and waited, getting calmer and more peaceful every moment. Soon

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