Listerdale Mystery - Agatha Christie [59]
‘You don’t take it to a jeweller. Don’t you ever read detective stories, Ted? You take it to a “fence”, of course.’
‘And how should I know any fences? I’ve been brought up respectable.’
‘Men ought to know everything,’ said Dorothy. ‘That’s what they’re for.’
He looked at her. She was serene and unyielding.
‘I wouldn’t have believed it of you,’ he said weakly.
‘I thought you had more spirit.’
There was a pause. Then Dorothy rose to her feet.
‘Well,’ she said lightly. ‘We’d best be getting home.’
‘Wearing that thing round your neck?’
Dorothy removed the necklace, looked at it reverently and dropped it into her handbag.
‘Look here,’ said Edward. ‘You give that to me.’
‘No.’
‘Yes, you do. I’ve been brought up honest, my girl.’
‘Well, you can go on being honest. You need have nothing to do with it.’
‘Oh, hand it over,’ said Edward recklessly. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll find a fence. As you say, it’s the only chance we shall ever have. We came by it honest–bought it for two shillings. It’s no more than what gentlemen do in antique shops every day of their life and are proud of it.’
‘That’s it!’ said Dorothy. ‘Oh, Edward, you’re splendid!’
She handed over the necklace and he dropped it into his pocket. He felt worked up, exalted, the very devil of a fellow! In this mood he started the Austin. They were both too excited to remember tea. They drove back to London in silence. Once at a cross-roads, a policeman stepped towards the car, and Edward’s heart missed a beat. By a miracle, they reached home without mishap.
Edward’s last words to Dorothy were imbued with the adventurous spirit.
‘We’ll go through with this. Fifty thousand pounds! It’s worth it!’
He dreamt that night of broad arrows and Dartmoor, and rose early, haggard and unrefreshed. He had to set about finding a fence–and how to do it he had not the remotest idea!
His work at the office was slovenly and brought down upon him two sharp rebukes before lunch.
How did one find a ‘fence’? Whitechapel, he fancied, was the correct neighbourhood–or was it Stepney?
On his return to the office a call came through for him on the telephone. Dorothy’s voice spoke–tragic and tearful.
‘Is that you, Ted? I’m using the telephone, but she may come in any minute, and I’ll have to stop. Ted, you haven’t done anything, have you?’
Edward replied in the negative.
‘Well, look here, Ted, you mustn’t. I’ve been lying awake all night. It’s been awful. Thinking of how it says in the Bible you mustn’t steal. I must have been mad yesterday–I really must. You won’t do anything, will you, Ted, dear?’
Did a feeling of relief steal over Mr Palgrove? Possibly it did–but he wasn’t going to admit any such thing.
‘When I say I’m going through with a thing, I go through with it,’ he said in a voice such as might belong to a strong superman with eyes of steel.
‘Oh, but, Ted, dear, you mustn’t. Oh, Lord, she’s coming. Look here, Ted, she’s going out to dinner tonight. I can slip out and meet you. Don’t do anything till you’ve seen me. Eight o’clock. Wait for me round the corner.’ Her voice changed to a seraphic murmur. ‘Yes, ma’am, I think it was a wrong number. It was Bloomsbury 0234 they wanted.’
As Edward left the office at six o’clock, a huge headline caught his eye.
JEWEL ROBBERY. LATEST DEVELOPMENTS
Hurriedly he extended a penny. Safely ensconced in the Tube, having dexterously managed to gain a seat, he eagerly perused the printed sheet. He found what he sought easily enough.
A suppressed whistle escaped him.
‘Well–I’m–’
And then another adjacent paragraph caught his eye. He read it through and let the paper slip to the floor unheeded.
Precisely at eight o’clock, he was waiting at the rendezvous. A breathless Dorothy, looking pale but pretty, came hurrying along to join him.
‘You haven’t done anything, Ted?’
‘I haven’t done anything.’ He took the ruby chain from his pocket. ‘You can put it on.’
‘But, Ted–’
‘The police have got the rubies all right–and the man who pinched them. And now read