Chapter 10
“Well now,” said Arbuckle, shaking Daisy’s hand, “if this isn’t mighty kind of you, ma’am.
Petrie’s explained to me what you’re trying to do for my little girl.
He tells me he has absolute faith in your discretion, yours and your friends’.
” The doubt expressed by his choice of words was echoed in his tone.
“We’ve all promised not to let the cat out of the bag, Mr. Arbuckle, and we’re frightfully careful with our enquiries. I think you’d better meet the others—but later, if you feel up to it. Do sit down, won’t you?”
A sigh escaped him as he sank gratefully into one of the big chairs.
Phillip leant against the mantelpiece, one hand in his trouser pocket. Despite the casual pose, Daisy saw he still had the jim-jams.
“We really are careful, sir,” he said. “Daisy—Miss Dalrymple—has worked it all out.”
“How do you mean?”
“I came up with ways to ask questions that sound like casual chit-chat. Local people aren’t at all likely to gossip with Cockneys or Americans, anyway. They look on people from the other side of the Malvern Hills as practically foreigners.”
“You folks can honestly tell the difference?”
“With Cockneys, certainly, if not with Hereforders.”
“Waal, I guess a Middle Westerner like me knows a Texan from a New Yorker, so why not? Say, Miss Dalrymple, you figure you guys have a real chance of finding Gloria?”
“A chance. The police would have a much better chance. Won’t you let…?”
“No dice,” said Arbuckle with grim determination.
“I was going to say, at least let me consult a friend of mine who’s a detective at Scotland Yard. Mr. Fletcher’s discreet and absolutely trustworthy.”
“Abso-bally-lutely,” Phillip confirmed. “Besides, we could tell him it’s a hypo … what was that word, Daisy?”
“Hypothetical.”
“It’s no go.” Arbuckle was adamant. “You just don’t unnerstand how things are back home.
Kidnapping’s by way of getting to be big business, see, like bootlegging, and Detroit where I come from’s one of the places it’s biggest. There’s lots of lucre floating around on account of the automobile business. ”
He leant towards Daisy, hands on his knees, and asked her earnestly, “Now why do folks buy an automobile when they’ve always been contented with a horse and buggy?
Because they see other people enjoy owning one.
And why do folks do just exactly what kidnappers tell ’em?
Because they see what happens to other people’s loved ones if they don’t.
A kidnapper not doing what he’s threatened to is like an auto not doing what the manufacturer’s promised it will. Bad for business.”
“Yes, I see that,” Daisy said slowly. She had a feeling there was a flaw in the argument somewhere, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Alec would have seen it.
“So, they tell me ‘no cops,’ no cops it is. After Gloria’s safe, now that’s a whole different ball game. You can call in your Scotland Yard buddy then. What I want,” Arbuckle snarled, “is I want to see the sons of bitches put away in the hoosegow for life.”
“Oh, I say!” Phillip protested.
“If you’ll pardon the expression, ma’am.”
Daisy indicated that she considered a certain amount of heat was justified in the circumstances. “I hope you haven’t had too much trouble coming up with the ransom money,” she said.
“The bank will have gotten it for me by Friday. I’ll have to go to Lunnon to pick it up.”
“Don’t want to leave anything to chance,” Phillip put in.
“That’s right, son. It’s a heck of a lot of dough, though it won’t bankrupt me by a long ways, no sirree.
Not that I wouldn’t bankrupt myself for my girl, Miss Dalrymple,” he added earnestly.
“But it makes me think they know what they’re up to and aren’t going to demand delivery before I’ve had time to round up the cash. ”
“That’s a relief. We have at least a couple of days to go on searching for Gloria. Unless you want to call off the bloodhounds, Mr. Arbuckle?”
His brow wrinkled in thought. “No, I guess it sounds like you can’t do any harm. If you came through with the goods, if you found where she’s at, why then I’d sure have to think again about bringing in the troopers.”
“We’ll do our best,” Daisy promised. “Would you like to come and meet the others now?”
“I surely would like to shake those folks by the hand.”
“You’ll have to be careful what you say,” she warned. “My cousins, Lord and Lady Dalrymple, think we’re just a house-party.”
Arbuckle chuckled. “Petrie tells me I’m to pose as the guy who ran him off the road, come to make amends.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Phillip, flushing. “It seemed easiest since that’s what Lady Dalrymple guessed.”
“That’s okay, son. I figure I owe you a new auto if yours isn’t found in one piece.”
Phillip’s face darkened to crimson. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Daisy had never seen him at such a loss. “Gosh, that’s jolly generous of you, Mr. Arbuckle,” she said for him. “Did Phillip explain that you’re also posing as a partner in a firm of publishers dying to publish my work?”
“Sure thing.” Arbuckle grinned at her. “Just tell me what magazine you want to write for, ma’am, and I’ll buy it up.”
She laughed. “How about the Saturday Evening Post?”
“Now that could be a mite difficult to purchase outright, but if shares are traded on Wall Street, I’ll buy enough to have a say in the business.”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“I did. No one can say Caleb P. Arbuckle ever forgot a favour, and you couldn’t do me a bigger one than trying to help my Gloria.” His face sagged and his shoulders slumped. “My poor little girl,” he said softly.
Daisy decided it was not the moment to argue about the Saturday Evening Post and wanting to sell one’s work on its merits. “Let’s go to the drawing-room and we’ll introduce you to the others,” she suggested.
His social savoir-faire once more in evidence, Phillip presented the American to Geraldine.
“How do you do, Mr. Arbuckle,” she said with a stiff nod.
“Howdy-do, Lady Dalrymple. It’s real kind of you to let me do my little bit of business with my young friend here in your beautiful house. I want to apologize for gate-crashing, ma’am, and me not even in my tuxedo.”
Geraldine thawed slightly. “What quaint terms you Americans use. Gate-crashing is self-explanatory, I suppose. A tuxedo is a dinner jacket?”
“Sure is. I’ve been in Lunnon and I didn’t have time this evening to change.”
“Have you dined, Mr. Arbuckle?”
“Yes, I thank you, ma’am. I grabbed a bite on the train.”
At Daisy’s side, Lucy murmured, “Unorthodox vocabulary, darling, but acceptable manners.”
“I rather like him.”
“I was afraid he might turn out to be an absolute bounder. Too, too ghastly to discover we’d rescued some tawdry parvenu shopgirl.”
“Not likely. Phillip’s no more likely to excuse vulgarity than you are.”
Lucy raised meticulously plucked eyebrows and turned an attentive gaze on Phillip, hovering anxiously nearby as Geraldine introduced Arbuckle to Edgar. “Aha,” she said, “so that’s how it is? Don’t tell me Phillip has found his soul-mate!”
“Found,” Daisy admitted, “and lost.”
“That does add a certain piquancy to the situation.”
“Let’s just hope he finds her again. Don’t tell anyone else, darling. His people don’t know yet.”
“My lips are sealed. By the way, that reminds me, Binkie says your tame ’tec is coming to stay in the village this weekend.” Lucy’s tone was languid but her eyebrows rose again in a shrewdly enquiring look.
Daisy’s cheeks grew hot. “Yes, he’s coming down.” She tried to sound casual. “I’d promised to support Phil when he introduces the Arbuckles to his parents, and it seemed a good moment for Mother to meet Alec.”
“Cupid’s been busy, I see.” Lucy sighed. “Perhaps it’s about time I proposed to Binkie. The poor prune isn’t likely to find the words to do the job. The best I can hope for is that your example will inspire him to utter, ‘What about it, old girl?’”
“Alec hasn’t proposed.”
“He will. Isn’t it going to be a bit awkward, his landing in the middle of all this? Our American friend won’t be frightfully happy to see a full-blown Detective Chief Inspector on the doorstep.”
“With any luck it will all be over by the weekend,” Daisy said hopefully. “Mr. Arbuckle’s fetching the ransom from town on Friday. If we haven’t found Gloria by then, it’ll be too late.”
Phillip brought Arbuckle over to introduce him to Lucy. In a low voice, the American expressed his gratitude, sincere but not fulsome, for her assistance. Probably the sternest critic present, she appeared to continue to find his manners acceptable.
Daisy would have liked to regard it as a good omen for his reception by Phillip’s parents. The Petries, however, were liable to be rather more exacting when informed that Caleb P. Arbuckle was to become a relation by marriage.
But that was jumping the gun. First catch your hare, as someone or other had said. Until Gloria was safe, there was no sense worrying about how Phillip’s family would receive her and her father.
A few minutes later, after meeting the Pearsons and Binkie, Mr. Arbuckle sought Daisy out. “Say, Miss Dalrymple,” he said, “could we have a quiet word?”
“Of course.” Praying that he wasn’t going to expect an optimistic estimate of their chances of finding Gloria, she led the way to a massive Victorian sofa relegated to an obscure corner of the room.
Sitting down beside her with an irresolute air, he hesitated a moment, then embarked upon a subject Daisy was sure was not on the top of his mind.
“Your cousin—Lord Dalrymple’s your cousin, right?
—he’s a swell guy. I wasn’t too sure at first. He kept talking about a red-necked footman, so I figured he was having trouble with a hayseed lackey.
‘Red-neck’ is what Southerners call farm labourers, see, and I’ve heard a lot about the servant problem since I’ve been over here, though it’s usually the ladies complaining. ”
“Endlessly,” Daisy agreed, “but I bet Edgar was talking about a moth, wasn’t he?”