‘All right,’ said Noel suddenly, ‘as you’ve got my job and as you’re welcome to my share of Mrs Lace, you can’t do me any more dirt, so I can stop paying your bills in this lousy hole. That’s one comfort. Here, miss! Put all these beers down to room 8, will you?’
For once in his life Jasper was left with nothing to say.
After this Noel began taking steps to find himself work. He stayed on at Chalford because he was infected with the general excitement over the pageant, and besides London at the moment was hot and empty of influential people. So he wrote letters. He felt that it was useless to hope for an invitation to resume his old position in the office of Fruel and Grimthorpe; after the barbed shafts which had doubtless been inserted into the mind of Sir Percy Fruel by Jasper, an application there would only be made at the risk of a colossal snub. Noel therefore wrote to his three uncles, all of whom occupied good positions in the world of finance. He explained that he was wasting his time in a stockbroker’s office, it was an occupation which he felt gave him too little scope for his talents. He would prefer some job where he could make use of his languages and his rather special knowledge of central European conditions. If Jasper can bluff his way through life, he thought, as he wrote this, so should I be able to. The uncles, he knew, rightly regarded him as a young man who, while lacking in brilliance, could be relied upon to execute anything he might be given to do with steady industry. They had for years deprecated his friendship with the notorious Mr Aspect and might be very much inclined to assist him to a job abroad, far from that malign influence. Noel also thought that once away from Chalford it would be no bad thing to put the German ocean between himself and Mrs Lace for a time. Whilst awaiting developments however, he continued to dally with that lady, to whose attractions he was perhaps not quite so insensible as he liked to imagine.
‘How very mysterious,’ said Poppy, who, accompanied by Jasper, had just returned from a rehearsal of the Chalford group’s episode. It was the last but one before the pageant and had been a heavy failure. ‘How very mysterious, here’s an enormous parcel for me. It is strange, as nobody knows I’m here, except I suppose Anthony, and he wouldn’t be likely to send me a parcel.’
‘No, only a writ,’ said Jasper.
‘So queer,’ Poppy continued. ‘It’s not my birthday or anything either, besides, nobody gets a post here ever, except the detectives.’ She pulled at its brown paper wrapping, ‘Why, it’s just like a very heavy hat box, registered too. I simply don’t understand it.’
When at last she had made a hole in the brown paper, which was of a particularly tough brand, a neat wooden box was revealed, clearly needing hammer and chisel to open it. Jasper, who was by now almost as curious as Poppy, went off and borrowed these implements from Mr Birk.
‘It’s exactly the sort of box my wedding presents used to arrive in,’ said Poppy, hovering round while Jasper bashed away at it. ‘Somebody always used to injure themselves opening them, and then one would plough one’s way through oceans of shavings in order to reveal some awful little glass inkstand. How I used to cry when I was engaged.’
‘I’m not surprised. Marriage with old missing link St Julien can’t have been a very pretty future for a nice Nordic girl like you to contemplate.’
‘Hullo!’ said Poppy, ‘so what did I tell you? Oceans of shavings. How like old times – now for the inkpot.’
Inside the shavings was a large red leather case.
‘Whoever sent this wasn’t going to risk having their precious inkpot broken.’
Inside the large red leather case was a large diamond tiara.
Poppy and Jasper blinked. They looked at each other and looked again at the tiara and neither spoke. After a few minutes Poppy placed it carefully on the hall table and removing her gaze from it with some reluctance she began to search once more among the shavings. This she did in the purely mechanical manner of one whose reflexes have been conditioned to a particular reaction on the receipt of diamond tiaras. She soon found what she was looking for, a visiting-card. The name engraved upon it was the name of Jasper’s grandfather, and on it was written in pencil, ‘To a very charming little lady from an old friend, who hopes that soon he may boast a more intimate relationship.’
Jasper took it from her and read it in his turn.
‘Good,’ he said comfortably, ‘now we really shall be able to be married.’
Poppy, who was trying on the tiara in front of a looking-glass, said, ‘Why?’
‘On the proceeds, silly.’
‘Proceeds of what? I don’t somehow think I intend to sell my tiara,’ said Poppy, ‘if that’s what you mean.’ She twisted her head about to make it sparkle. ‘Really, it suits me a treat, doesn’t it?’
‘Remember you are going to be a poor man’s wife, you can’t afford these expensive treats.’
‘Yes, but if I stay with Anthony St Julien I can afford them easily.’
‘Well, I’m bound to say that’s pretty cool. If you stay with Anthony St Julien it is to be hoped you will be sufficiently honourable to hand over that tiara.’
‘To whom, pray?’
‘To me, of course. After all, the old boy sent it along as a wedding present for me, didn’t he?’
‘I don’t agree at all. Just read that card again and show me one single mention either of you
