The Secret of Chimneys, Agatha Christie [reading a book txt] 📗

“You mean—do I understand you to mean—that you did not correct the misapprehension under which he was labouring?”

Virginia shook her head, shooting a sideways glance at him.

“Good heavens, Virginia, you must be mad.”

“I suppose it would seem that way to you.”

“But why? In God’s name, why?”

“Several reasons. To begin with he was doing it so beautifully—blackmailing me, I mean—I hate to interrupt an artist when he’s doing his job really well. And then, you see, I’d never been blackmailed——”

“I should hope not, indeed.”

“And I wanted to see what it felt like.”

“I am quite at a loss to comprehend you, Virginia.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“You did not give him money, I hope?”

“Just a trifle,” said Virginia apologetically.

“How much?”

“Forty pounds.”

“Virginia!”

“My dear George, it’s only what I pay for an evening dress. It’s just as exciting to buy a new experience as it is to buy a new dress—more so, in fact.”

George Lomax merely shook his head, and Chilvers appearing at that moment with the tea urn, he was saved from having to express his outraged feelings. When tea had been brought in, and Virginia’s deft fingers were manipulating the heavy silver teapot, she spoke again on the subject.

“I had another motive too, George—a brighter and better one. We women are usually supposed to be cats, but at any rate I’d done another woman a good turn this afternoon. This man isn’t likely to go off looking for another Virginia Revel. He thinks he’s found his bird all right. Poor little devil, she was in a blue funk when she wrote that letter. Mr. Blackmailer would have had the easiest job of his life there. Now, though he doesn’t know it, he’s up against a tough proposition. Starting with the great advantage of having led a blameless life, I shall toy with him to his undoing—as they say in books. Guile, George, lots of guile.”

George still shook his head.

“I don’t like it,” he persisted. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, never mind, George dear. You didn’t come here to talk about blackmailers. What did you come here for, by the way? Correct answer: ‘To see you!’ Accent on the you, and press her hand with significance unless you happen to have been eating heavily buttered muffin, in which case it must all be done with the eyes.”

“I did come to see you,” replied George seriously. “And I am glad to find you alone.”

“Oh, George, this is so sudden,” says she, swallowing a currant.

“I wanted to ask a favour of you. I have always considered you, Virginia, as a woman of considerable charm.”

“Oh, George!”

“And also a woman of intelligence!”

“Not really? How well the man knows me.”

“My dear Virginia, there is a young fellow arriving in England to-morrow whom I should like you to meet.”

“All right, George, but it’s your party—let that be clearly understood.”

“You could, I feel sure, if you chose, exercise your considerable charm.”

Virginia cocked her head a little on one side.

“George, dear, I don’t ‘charm’ as a profession, you know. Often I like people—and then, well, they like me. But I don’t think I could set out in cold blood to fascinate a helpless stranger. That sort of thing isn’t done, George, it really isn’t. There are professional sirens who would do it much better than I should.”

“That is out of the question, Virginia. This young man, he is a Canadian, by the way, of the name of McGrath——”

“A Canadian of Scotch descent,” says she, deducing brilliantly.

“Is probably quite unused to the higher walks of English society. I should like him to appreciate the charm and distinction of a real English gentlewoman.”

“Meaning me?”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said why? You don’t boom the real English gentlewoman with every stray Canadian who sets foot upon our shores. What is the deep idea, George? To put it vulgarly, what do you get out of it?”

“I cannot see that that concerns you, Virginia.”

“I couldn’t possibly go out for an evening and fascinate, unless I knew all the whys and wherefors.”

“You have a most extraordinary way of putting things, Virginia. Anyone would think——”

“Wouldn’t they? Come on, George, part with a little more information.”

“My dear Virginia, matters are likely to be a little strained shortly in a certain Central European nation. It is important, for reasons which are immaterial, that this—Mr.—er McGrath should be brought to realize that the restoring of the Monarchy in Herzoslovakia is imperative to the peace of Europe.”

“The part about the peace of Europe is all bosh,” said Virginia calmly, “but I’m all for Monarchies every time, especially for a picturesque people like the Herzoslovakians. So you’re running a King in the Herzoslovakian States, are you? Who is he?”

George was reluctant to answer, but did not see his way to avoid the question. The interview was not going at all as he had planned. He had foreseen Virginia as a willing, docile tool, receiving his hints gratefully, and asking no awkward questions. This was far from being the case. She seemed determined to know all about it and this George, ever doubtful of female discretion, was determined at all costs to avoid. He had made a mistake. Virginia was not the woman for the part. She might, indeed, cause serious trouble. Her account of her interview with the blackmailer had caused him grave apprehension. A most undependable creature, with no idea of treating serious matters seriously.

“Prince Michael Obolovitch,” he replied, as Virginia was obviously waiting for an answer to her question. “But please let that go no further.”

“Don’t be absurd, George. There are all sort of hints in the papers already, and articles cracking up the Obolovitch dynasty and talking about the murdered Nicholas IV as though he were a cross between a Saint and a hero instead of a stupid little man besotted by a third-rate actress.”

George winced. He was more than ever convinced that he had made a mistake in enlisting Virginia’s aid. He must stave her off quickly.

“You are right, my dear Virginia,” he said hastily, as he rose to his feet to bid her farewell. “I should not have made the suggestion I did to you. But we are anxious for the Dominions to see eye to eye with us on this Herzoslovakian crisis, and McGrath has, I believe, influence in journalistic circles. As an ardent Monarchist, and with your knowledge of the country, I thought it a good plan for you to meet him.”

“So that’s the explanation, is it?”

“Yes, but I dare say you wouldn’t have cared for him.”

Virginia looked at him for a second and then she laughed.

“George,” she said, “you’re a rotten liar.”

“Virginia!”

“Rotten, absolutely rotten! If I had had your training, I could have managed a better one than that—one that had a chance of being believed. But I shall find out all about it, my poor George. Rest assured of that. The Mystery of Mr. McGrath. I shouldn’t wonder if I got a hint or two at Chimneys this week-end.”

“At Chimneys? You are going to Chimneys?”

George could not conceal his perturbation. He had hoped to reach Lord Caterham in time for the invitation to remain unissued.

“Bundle rang up and asked me this morning.”

George made a last effort.

“Rather a dull party, I believe,” he said. “Hardly in your line, Virginia.”

“My poor George, why didn’t you tell me the truth and trust me? It’s still not too late.”

George took her hand and dropped it again limply.

“I have told you the truth,” he said coldly, and he said it without a blush.

“That’s a better one,” said Virginia approvingly. “But it’s still not good enough. Cheer up, George, I shall be at Chimneys all right, exerting my considerable charm—as you put it. Life has become suddenly very much more amusing. First a blackmailer, and then George in diplomatic difficulties. Will he tell all to the beautiful woman who asks for his confidence so pathetically? No, he will reveal nothing until the last chapter. Good-bye, George. One last fond look before you go? No? Oh, George, dear, don’t be sulky about it!”

Virginia ran to the telephone as soon as George had departed with a heavy gait through the front door.

She obtained the number she required and asked to speak to Lady Eileen Brent.

“Is that you, Bundle? I’m coming to Chimneys all right to-morrow. What? Bore me? No, it won’t. Bundle, wild horses wouldn’t keep me away! So there!”