'You don't sound very enthusiastic about it.'
'I'm not.'
'I suppose George knows what he's doing, but it seems to me a crazy idea to have it at the same place where –'
'Oh, I've been to the Luxembourg several times since – since Rosemary – I mean, one can't avoid it.'
'No, and it's just as well. I've got a birthday present for you, Iris. I hope you'll like it. Au revoir.'
He rang off.
Iris went back to Lucilla Drake, to argue, persuade and reassure.
George, on his arrival at his office, sent at once for Ruth Lessing.
His worried frown relaxed a little as she entered, calm and smiling, in her neat black coat and skirt.
'Good morning.'
'Good morning, Ruth. Trouble again. Look at this.'
She took the cable he held out.
'Victor Drake again!'
'Yes, curse him.'
She was silent a minute, holding the cable. A lean, brown face wrinkling up round the nose when he laughed. A mocking voice saying, 'the sort of girl who ought to marry the Boss…' How vividly it all came back.
She thought: 'It might have been yesterday…'
George's voice recalled her.
'Wasn't it about a year ago that we shipped him out there?'
She reflected.
'I think so, yes. Actually I believe it was October 27th.'
'What an amazing girl you are. What a memory!'
She thought to herself that she had a better reason for remembering than he knew. It was fresh from Victor Drake's influence that she had listened to Rosemary's careless voice over the phone and decided that she hated her employer's wife.
'I suppose we're lucky,' said George, 'that he's lasted as long as he has out there. Even if it did cost us fifty pounds three months ago.'
'Three hundred pounds now seems a lot.'
'Oh, yes. He won't get as much as that. We'll have to make the usual investigations.'
'I'd better communicate with Mr Ogilvie.'
Alexander Ogilvie was their agent in Buenos Aires – a sober, hard-headed Scotsman.
'Yes. Cable at once. His mother is in a state, as usual. Practically hysterical. Makes it very difficult with the party tonight.'
'Would you like me to stay with her?'
'No.' He negatived the idea emphatically. 'No, indeed. You're the one person who's got to be there. I need you, Ruth.' He took her hand. 'You're too unselfish.'
'I'm not unselfish at all.'
She smiled and suggested: 'Would it be worth trying telephonic communication with Mr Ogilvie? We might get the whole thing cleared up by tonight.'
'A good idea. Well worth the expense.'
'I'll get busy at once.'
Very gently she disengaged her hand from his and went out.
George dealt with various matters awaiting his attention.
At half-past twelve he went out and took a taxi to the Luxembourg .
Charles, the notorious and popular head waiter, came towards him, bending his stately head and smiling in welcome.
'Good morning, Mr Barton.'
'Good morning, Charles. Everything all right for tonight?'
'I think you will be satisfied, sir.'
'The same table?'
'The middle one in the alcove, that is right, is it not?'
'Yes – and you understand about the extra place?'
'It is all arranged.'
'And you've got the – the rosemary?'
'Yes, Mr Barton. I am afraid it won't be very decorative. You wouldn't like some red berries incorporated – or say a few chrysanthemums?'
'No, no, only the rosemary.'
'Very good, sir. You would like to see the menu. Giuseppe.'
With a flick of the thumb Charles produced a smiling little middle-aged Italian.
'The menu for Mr Barton.'
It was produced.
Oysters, Clear Soup, Sole Luxembourg , Grouse, Poires Helene, Chicken Livers in Bacon.
George cast an indifferent eye over it.
'Yes, yes, quite all right.'
He handed it back. Charles accompanied him to the door.
Sinking his voice a little, he murmured: 'May I just mention how appreciative we are, Mr Barton, that you are – er – coming back to us?'
A smile, rather a ghastly smile, showed on George's face. He said:
'We've got to forget the past – can't dwell on the past. All that is over and done with.'
'Very true, Mr Barton. You know how shocked and grieved we were at the time. I'm sure I hope that Mademoiselle will have a very happy birthday party and– that everything will be as you like it.'
Gracefully bowing, Charles withdrew and darted like an angry dragon-fly on some very inferior grade of waiter who was doing the wrong thing at a table near the window.
George went out with a wry smile on his lips. He was not an imaginative enough man to feel a pang of sympathy for the Luxembourg .
It was not, after all, the fault of the Luxembourg that Rosemary had decided to commit suicide there or that someone had decided to murder her there. It had been decidedly hard on the Luxembourg . But like most people with an idea, George thought only of that idea.
He lunched at his club and went afterwards to a directors' meeting.
On his way back to the office, he put through a phone call to a Maida Vale number from a public call box. He came out with a sigh of relief. Everything was set according to schedule.
He went back to the office.
Ruth came to him at once. 'About Victor Drake.'
'Yes?'
'I'm afraid it's rather a bad business. A possibility of criminal prosecution. He's been helping himself to the firm's money over a considerable period.'
'Did Ogilvie say so?'
'Yes. I got through to him this morning and he got a call through to us this afternoon ten minutes ago. He says Victor was quite brazen about the whole thing.'
'He would be!'
'But he insists that they won't prosecute if the money is refunded. Mr Ogilvie saw the senior partner and that seems to be correct. The actual sum in question is one hundred and sixty-five pounds.'
'So that Master Victor was hoping to pocket a clear hundred and thirty-five on the transaction?'
'I'm afraid so.'
'Well, we've scotched that, at any rate,' said George with grim satisfaction.
'I told Mr Ogilvie to go ahead and settle the business. Was that right?'
'Personally I should be delighted to see that young crook go to prison – but one has to think of his mother. A fool – but a dear soul. So Master Victor scores as usual.'
