‘… and your Family I thank God is very well, and I hope a little time will put an end to this troublesom Affaire…’
« ^ »
Bernardo and Gavin met at a pub in the City, but Bernardo soon suggested that they should adjourn.
‘My mamma says you want to talk to me,’ he said, ‘and that it is police business. Why don’t I give you dinner somewhere? Then we can discuss matters.’
‘Very good of you,’ said Gavin. ‘I agree that perhaps our business might be better talked over at table, preferably in a crowded sort of place where everybody is intent on his own business. I have my car.’
‘Good,’ said Bernardo. ‘It is unfashionable, I know, but I don’t drive much in Town.’
No table had been booked, as the invitation had been issued on the spur of the moment, but Bernardo appeared to be
Bernardo was a smooth and excellent host and Gavin began to enjoy himself. The case, he was certain by now, was a push-over, but he was canny and careful and did not want to leave any loopholes. Over the hors-d’oeuvres (Bernardo) and his own choice (hare soup) the conversation was polite and general, but when the turbot with Hollandaise sauce had been cleared and a Burgundy substituted for the Barsac, Bernardo got down to business.
‘So the police are after me,’ he said, with his charming smile. ‘Exactly why?’
‘If the police were really after you,’ said Gavin, ‘I should not be accepting your hospitality. One of our old- fashioned but reassuring rules. There are just a few things I would like you to tell me, but that is all. First, what is your attitude towards your cousin, Florian Colwyn-Welch?’
‘My attitude? I don’t really know. I’m engaged to be married to his sister and I don’t think he likes the idea.’
‘Why is that?’
‘He’s inclined to be a sort of member of the Hitler Youth, I think — i.e. a bit anti-Semitic. Then, too, apart from the fact that it’s obvious he doesn’t want her to marry
‘And you don’t find a lack of intelligence a drawback? It doesn’t irritate you, I mean?’
Bernardo hesitated while the waiter poured a little wine into his glass. He sniffed and tasted, as a matter of form, (the wine cellar at the hotel was a noted one), and then replied:
‘There are too many intelligent women in our family. A good-natured fool will be a most pleasant change. Besides, Binnie, apart from possessing fewer brains than our average, is a restful sort of person. She doesn’t make demands on one, she is cheerful and practical and, in contrast to Florian, she’s extroverted to a most refreshing degree. Of course, she’s apt to giggle, but I don’t mind that at all.’
‘Right. Let’s go back to Colwyn-Welch. Do you know why his granduncle quarrelled with him?’
‘Oh, yes. The old man told me. After all, my grandmother, my father and I are all concerned in the marketing of diamonds. There are times when the trade takes precedence even of family affairs. To be in diamonds is to be in love. Everything else is secondary. Well, not to put too fine a point on it, Florian (whose allowance from grandpapa has never been spectacularly generous, and whose prospects suffered an eclipse when I became engaged to Binnie), light-fingered some of the old man’s best diamonds — those he kept in the house — and, like the ass he is, let himself be found out. Well, you might get away with murder where a diamond-merchant is concerned, but not with half-inching his pebbles. There was the father and mother of a row and Florian was cast into outer darkness.’
‘But he has been reinstated, as I understand it. How did that come about?’
‘Well, grandpapa took me into his confidence, so my mamma and I talked turkey to him. My Dutch sense of justice took precedence, for once, over my Jewish instinct for hanging on to a good thing so long as it was honestly come by. Mamma was particularly forthright, and was heavily backed by uncles Derde and Sweyn. Florian, of course, is popular in the family.’
Gavin looked up from the roast beef and Yorkshire he had chosen.
‘With every member of it?’ he asked. Bernardo smiled and addressed himself to saddle of mutton and brussels sprouts.
‘Well, with every member except, possibly, my aunt Ruby, my papa and myself,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘Because it seems fairly certain that while he was in exile in Derbyshire, somebody attempted to poison him with a piece of chocolate-cream which, the evidence indicates, was sent to him from Holland.’
‘I see,’ said Bernardo. He sipped his wine. ‘Yes, indeed.’
‘You read about the two unfortunate girls who were handed the fatal dose?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did.’
The two men ate and drank without speaking during the next few minutes. Gavin was wondering how best to frame another question. He glanced at the Byronic profile and decided upon the direct approach. Bernardo was no hysterical Narcissus, but a well-balanced worldling, older in poise and maturity than his twenty-six years might suggest.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ he said. ‘I have details of Mr van Zestien’s latest will. It is clear that if young Colwyn-Welch could be liquidated, more than one member of the family would stand to gain a pretty substantial sum.’
Bernardo, forestalling the waiter, topped up the wineglasses.
