At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [28]
“Why, that’s quite all right, Miss Elvira,” said Mr. Bollard, slowly.
“I suppose you thought someone had stolen it,” said Elvira.
Her limpid blue eyes met him.
“We had discovered its loss,” said Mr. Bollard. “Thank you very much, Miss Elvira, for bringing it back so promptly.”
“I felt simply awful about it when I found it,” said Elvira. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Bollard, for being so nice about it.”
“A lot of strange mistakes do occur,” said Mr. Bollard. He smiled at her in an avuncular manner. “We won’t think of it anymore. But don’t do it again, though.” He laughed with the air of one making a genial little joke.
“Oh no,” said Elvira, “I shall be terribly careful in future.”
She smiled at him, turned and left the shop.
“Now I wonder,” said Mr. Bollard to himself, “I really do wonder….”
One of his partners, who had been standing near, moved nearer to him.
“So she did take it?” he said.
“Yes. She took it all right,” said Mr. Bollard.
“But she brought it back,” his partner pointed out.
“She brought it back,” agreed Mr. Bollard. “I didn’t actually expect that.”
“You mean you didn’t expect her to bring it back?”
“No, not if it was she who’d taken it.”
“Do you think her story is true?” his partner inquired curiously. “I mean, that she slipped it into her pocket by accident?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” said Bollard, thoughtfully.
“Or it could be kleptomania, I suppose.”
“Or it could be kleptomania,” agreed Bollard. “It’s more likely that she took it on purpose…But if so, why did she bring it back so soon? It’s curious—”
“Just as well we didn’t notify the police. I admit I wanted to.”
“I know, I know. You haven’t got as much experience as I have. In this case, it was definitely better not.” He added softly to himself, “The thing’s interesting, though. Quite interesting. I wonder how old she is? Seventeen or eighteen I suppose. She might have got herself in a jam of some kind.”
“I thought you said she was rolling in money.”
“You may be an heiress and rolling in money,” said Bollard, “but at seventeen you can’t always get your hands on it. The funny thing is, you know, they keep heiresses much shorter of cash than they keep the more impecunious. It’s not always a good idea. Well, I don’t suppose we shall ever know the truth of it.”
He put the bracelet back in its place in the display case and shut down the lid.
Chapter Ten
The offices of Egerton, Forbes & Wilborough were in Bloomsbury, in one of those imposing and dignified squares which have as yet not felt the wind of change. Their brass plate was suitably worn down to illegibility. The firm had been going for over a hundred years and a good proportion of the landed gentry of England were their clients. There was no Forbes in the firm anymore and no Wilboroughs. Instead there were Atkinsons, father and son, and a Welsh Lloyd and a Scottish McAllister. There was, however, still an Egerton, descendant of the original Egerton. This particular Egerton was a man of fifty-two and he was adviser to several families which had in their day been advised by his grandfather, his uncle, and his father.
At this moment he was sitting behind a large mahogany desk in his handsome room on the first floor, speaking kindly but firmly to a dejected looking client. Richard Egerton was a handsome man, tall, dark with a touch of grey at the temples and very shrewd grey eyes. His advice was always good advice, but he seldom minced his words.
“Quite frankly you haven’t got a leg to stand upon, Freddie,” he was saying. “Not with those letters you’ve written.”
“You don’t think—” Freddie murmured dejectedly.