started laughing yet," said Dolly austerely.
"I don't wonder you're surprised. How long is it since you saw your friend?"
"I was talking to him this morning."
"And he didn't tell you he had sold the business?"
"Sold the business?"
"Lock, stock and barrel, with all the goodwill and everything. I took over this afternoon. Of course, one naturally assumes the trade name."
Mrs. Molloy looked at Mr. Molloy.
"Chimp Twist never said a word to me about selling out."
"He didn't?"
"No, sir. Not a syllable."
"You have found Mr. Twist a secretive man?" said Jeff, interested. "I noticed the same thing. A valuable quality, no doubt."
Dolly was still unconvinced.
"You don't look like a detective."
"Surely," said Jeff, throwing in a "dear lady" for good measure, "that is just how a detective ought to look, in order to lull suspicion in suspects. Hullo," he went on, looking at his watch, "it's later than I thought. I suppose one ought to be going in and dressing. Good-bye, Mrs. Molloy. Good-bye, Mr. Molloy. For the present, of course. In the not distant future I hope that we shall see much of one another."
He disappeared with long strides, trusting that he had not been abrupt but convinced that he had chosen a very suitable moment for breaking off the conversation, and Mrs. Molloy turned to her husband.
"How about it, Soapy?"
"Maybe it's on the up and up."
"But wouldn't Chimp have mentioned he was selling out?"
"He doesn't mention much."
"And why would he sell out, sudden, like this?"
"Maybe he had to skip, quick. He often does have to skip quick, the dishfaced little weasel."
"That's true."
They fell into a thoughtful silence, which remained unbroken till they had passed through the front door.
CHAPTER XI
A helpful housemaid directed Jeff to the room which had been allotted to him, and he had finished dressing and was relaxing over a cigarette, when the door was pushed open as by some irresistible force and a vast body of familiar aspect appeared on the threshold. From the kindly smile on the slablike face that topped it, Jeff saw at once that he was now in the presence of George, Viscount Uffenham, not of Cakebread. There was about the visitor none of that cold aloofness which had prevented a fusion of soul at their last meeting.
"Haryer?" said the mountainous peer affably. "Just came to see if they'd made yer comfortable. Everything all right?"
Jeff replied that everything was splendid.
"Capital," said Lord Uffenham. "Capital."
He spoke absently, for while he had not actually fallen into a trance, he had ceased to allow his attention to be riveted on what his young friend was saying. He was pottering about the room like a ruminative elephant, examining its contents with an abstracted eye. He picked up Jeff's pyjamas, and inspected them solemnly. There was a book on the table by the bed. He picked that up, and turned its pages for a moment. He also picked up and dropped into the fender a small china ornament which had been standing on the mantelpiece.
The sharp, splintering sound caused by the descent of this objet d'art seemed to rouse him from his reverie. Returning to the centre of things and lowering himself into a chair, he reached out a massive finger and gave Jeff a nasty blow on the knee with it. His face was benign and fatherly. In the way in which he regarded the younger man, there was genuine affection, as well as something suggestive of a stuffed owl in a taxidermist's window.
"I've been wanting a chat with you, young feller," he said.
Jeff replied courteously that he, too, had been counting the moments.
"Remember what we were talking about in that office?"
It seemed to Jeff that the other, if he was expecting him to have forgotten this already, must be crediting him with a memory as uncertain as his own. He said, with a touch of surprise:
"The diamonds, do you mean?"
"Lord-love-a-duck, no, not the diamonds. About you being potty about my dashed niece."
Jeff would have preferred
"I don't wonder you're surprised. How long is it since you saw your friend?"
"I was talking to him this morning."
"And he didn't tell you he had sold the business?"
"Sold the business?"
"Lock, stock and barrel, with all the goodwill and everything. I took over this afternoon. Of course, one naturally assumes the trade name."
Mrs. Molloy looked at Mr. Molloy.
"Chimp Twist never said a word to me about selling out."
"He didn't?"
"No, sir. Not a syllable."
"You have found Mr. Twist a secretive man?" said Jeff, interested. "I noticed the same thing. A valuable quality, no doubt."
Dolly was still unconvinced.
"You don't look like a detective."
"Surely," said Jeff, throwing in a "dear lady" for good measure, "that is just how a detective ought to look, in order to lull suspicion in suspects. Hullo," he went on, looking at his watch, "it's later than I thought. I suppose one ought to be going in and dressing. Good-bye, Mrs. Molloy. Good-bye, Mr. Molloy. For the present, of course. In the not distant future I hope that we shall see much of one another."
He disappeared with long strides, trusting that he had not been abrupt but convinced that he had chosen a very suitable moment for breaking off the conversation, and Mrs. Molloy turned to her husband.
"How about it, Soapy?"
"Maybe it's on the up and up."
"But wouldn't Chimp have mentioned he was selling out?"
"He doesn't mention much."
"And why would he sell out, sudden, like this?"
"Maybe he had to skip, quick. He often does have to skip quick, the dishfaced little weasel."
"That's true."
They fell into a thoughtful silence, which remained unbroken till they had passed through the front door.
CHAPTER XI
A helpful housemaid directed Jeff to the room which had been allotted to him, and he had finished dressing and was relaxing over a cigarette, when the door was pushed open as by some irresistible force and a vast body of familiar aspect appeared on the threshold. From the kindly smile on the slablike face that topped it, Jeff saw at once that he was now in the presence of George, Viscount Uffenham, not of Cakebread. There was about the visitor none of that cold aloofness which had prevented a fusion of soul at their last meeting.
"Haryer?" said the mountainous peer affably. "Just came to see if they'd made yer comfortable. Everything all right?"
Jeff replied that everything was splendid.
"Capital," said Lord Uffenham. "Capital."
He spoke absently, for while he had not actually fallen into a trance, he had ceased to allow his attention to be riveted on what his young friend was saying. He was pottering about the room like a ruminative elephant, examining its contents with an abstracted eye. He picked up Jeff's pyjamas, and inspected them solemnly. There was a book on the table by the bed. He picked that up, and turned its pages for a moment. He also picked up and dropped into the fender a small china ornament which had been standing on the mantelpiece.
The sharp, splintering sound caused by the descent of this objet d'art seemed to rouse him from his reverie. Returning to the centre of things and lowering himself into a chair, he reached out a massive finger and gave Jeff a nasty blow on the knee with it. His face was benign and fatherly. In the way in which he regarded the younger man, there was genuine affection, as well as something suggestive of a stuffed owl in a taxidermist's window.
"I've been wanting a chat with you, young feller," he said.
Jeff replied courteously that he, too, had been counting the moments.
"Remember what we were talking about in that office?"
It seemed to Jeff that the other, if he was expecting him to have forgotten this already, must be crediting him with a memory as uncertain as his own. He said, with a touch of surprise:
"The diamonds, do you mean?"
"Lord-love-a-duck, no, not the diamonds. About you being potty about my dashed niece."
Jeff would have preferred
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