Appleby's Other Story by Michael Innes Page B

note.
    â€˜Of course, we have a bit put by – Mrs Catmull and me. Years in good service, we’ve seen, and careful living all the time. So there’s a small nest-egg, I don’t deny. But no possessions, sir. Scarcely a stick to set up with, if that’s what it comes to. And the price of so much as a kitchen chair something chronic today. Just what I have in my pantry at the big house, sir. Nothing else at all. Just everything there. Came to me from my father, they did. No class about them. And nothing else. Not so much as our own bed to comfort one another in.’ A long pull at his fresh pint had perhaps prompted this last affecting thought. ‘Time was, sir, when folk in the position of Mrs C and me could set up with rooms for single gentlemen. Chambers, one could call them, and charge accordingly. Prohibitive now. Absolutely prohibitive.’
    â€˜I have no doubt the capital expenditure would be considerable.’ Appleby, although unable to feel any keen sympathy for the conjectured economic plight of the Catmulls, said what he could. ‘Haven’t you regularly been left in sole charge of Elvedon while Mr and Mrs Tytherton had been in London, or abroad?’
    â€˜Oh, decidedly, sir. Except for Mr Ramsden as often as not, and young Mr Archie Tytherton the nephew from time to time, we take full charge, sir. Every confidence has been reposed in us.’
    â€˜I’m very glad to hear it. When there is to be some radical change of plan for a big house, upper servants are frequently left in residence as caretakers over an indefinite period. On suitable board wages, of course. You must be aware of that. If it happens at Elvedon, it will give you time to look around.’
    â€˜That’s very true, sir – very true, indeed.’ The glint of cunning had returned to Catmull’s face. His manner, moreover, was shading into what might be called the professional servile. ‘And I should be most grateful if any good word to that effect could be said, Sir John. Any influential word – from one of high standing such as yourself.’
    â€˜I am most unlikely to be consulted.’
    â€˜It has always been a great responsibility. The house contains so much that is valuable – quite apart from the pictures, even. But speaking of them, sir, might I ask if that Mr Raffaello – we were having a word about him a moment ago, sir – makes a business of buying such things and selling them again?’
    â€˜Yes, he does.’
    â€˜And perhaps, Sir John, it wouldn’t always be quite above the board? A shady one, he seems to me.’
    â€˜I am afraid I can say nothing whatever about that.’
    â€˜Well, sir, I think I’d call that a significant reply. And in London, I imagine, there would be plenty others of the same sort?’
    â€˜If you mean dealers who are not very scrupulous about the authenticity of what they sell, or careful to establish the seller’s just title, that is certainly so. But you must not suppose me to be suggesting anything of the sort about Mr Raffaello or anybody else.’
    â€˜But you would have had dealings with such in your time?’
    â€˜Dealings with them? I’ve seen some of them into gaol, if that’s what you mean.’
    â€˜And perhaps they would continue in their wickedness, sir, when they came out again? A sad thought.’
    â€˜It’s certainly true of some of them.’
    â€˜Their names would be in the papers – at the time, I mean, of their being convicted?’
    â€˜Dear me, yes. You could look them up.’ The cunning of Catmull, Appleby was reflecting, seemed of a somewhat primitive order. He was surely a singularly unsuitable person to leave in charge of a large house filled with valuable objects. ‘But they have to be very clever indeed, I may say, not to get pretty quickly caught out. The ownership of most works of art of outstanding value is common knowledge nowadays.