Somewhere in the House (4 page)

“That sounds as if you knew him when you were both children,” said Gamadge, diffidently.

“I've known him almost all my life. We went to our first school together, and to dancing school, and we played in the Park.”

“So that it was really as an old family friend that your family received him when he—er—came back to the house again?”

“Yes. That made a difference, of course. His mother and father were dead by that time, but we'd always known them. They didn't live far away.” She crossed the room to sit on the nearest window seat, and Gamadge sat beside her.

“Buttons,” he said.

“A collection of buttons. Grandmother and Aunt Nonie collected them.”

“Oh; I see. They were early at the game, weren't they? Now, of course, buttons are all the rage.”

“We—the rest of us—knew very little about the collection; we didn't take it seriously, and we had no reason to be interested. Grandmother and Nonie were secretive about their hobbies. They took mysterious motor trips together every summer, and came back with all kinds of stuff that they'd picked up; I'm sure they were the prized patrons of all the famous gift shops in the East. They liked to discuss the trips afterwards, with private jokes and references. I hardly ever saw any of the buttons; I remember some little things like those flower paper-weights that are in fashion again.”

“I know the paper-weights,” said Gamadge. “I don't know the buttons.”

“Do you know whether such a collection could be valuable?”

“It would certainly have a market value nowadays, but that would vary tremendously as the demand for particular buttons in it varied. I don't think there's big money in a button collection, even now; unless some of the items were valuable in themselves.”

“Mother said that some of Nonie's buttons had ships and engines on them.”

“Association buttons; you'd get a price for them, but nothing like the price you'd get for buttons valuable in themselves—buttons off a rajah's coat, say, or off a king's coat. Jewelled buttons. I know very little about the subject, but I have heard that in the great button period—the eighteenth century—a gentleman could carry quite a little fortune about with him in buttons. The handcut steel ones, for instance, were worth a guinea apiece then.”

“Mother says she saw buttons with coloured stones in the collection; it never occurred to her or to us that they might be real jewels. There were cameos, too, and coral ones and ivory ones. How stupid we were. We never thought of the buttons until after the room was sealed up and we opened Grandmother's safe-deposit box. Then somebody did remember them, and we realized that they didn't seem to be anywhere.

“We hunted everywhere, because we began to wonder whether they were valuable; Seward's asked dealers about them, and found out a good deal; at least he told us so, but I only know what he said. He said the dealers told him there wasn't much value in the average collection. But…” She hesitated. Then she went on: “Personal property like jewellery wasn't tied up in the trust; it was to be divided up immediately among the heirs. We didn't like to think that we might have sealed the buttons up in Nonie's room.”

“Oh dear.”

“If they were her special treasures, Grandmother might have left them there with her.”

“As the Egyptians sealed up personal treasures with the mummies?”

“Exactly. Grandmother had left Nonie's ear-rings in her ears. We began to wonder whether she'd left something else in the room that we knew nothing about; it would have been like her to get Nonie a pearl necklace, for instance, pearl by pearl, on the sly. Her other children were always accusing her of favouritism—it was flagrant.”

“Worse and worse,” said Gamadge. “Maddening.”

“There was one other possibility, of course,” said Mrs. Leeder. “Aggie Fitch might have taken the buttons.”

“Might she indeed?”

“The room was locked up, as I told you,” said Mrs. Leeder, “and Uncle Gavan had the key; he put it in his dresser drawer. That was the morning of the day we had the funeral and Aggie came back to the house with us from Woodlawn that afternoon. She had plenty of time before she left to get the key and hunt about in the music room; at least she may have had—we don't know exactly when she did leave.”

“You think she was capable of stealing buttons?”

“We thought her capable of anything small and mean. She was always creeping about and listening. Grandmother found out lots of things she never would have found out if Aggie hadn't told her.”

“Was she adequately rewarded by your grandmother for this devotion?”

“We never knew how she was rewarded. She wasn't in the will at all; we thought Grandmother must have been contributing to a fund for her old age—giving her cash presents. That was one of the things that made it impossible for us ever to get hold of Aggie Fitch again, to ask her whether she knew anything about the buttons; we couldn't trace her through her money.”

“You mean Miss Fitch disappeared? That looks bad for her.”

“She never even communicated afterwards with her relations—some people named Nagle that she used to bring here to see Grandmother; for sponging purposes, I suppose. There was a man and his wife and a sticky little girl; one bumped into her on the stairs,” said Mrs. Leeder wearily. “And as Aggie Fitch was some relation of Grandmother's, and the Nagle woman was Aggie's niece, I suppose the Nagles are connections of ours. A horrid thought.”

Gamadge said: “We all have Nagles.”

“We don't have our Nagles now, thank goodness. They've never been in the house since. The man called up a week after the funeral to ask where Aggie had got to, but we didn't know. He said Aggie had been planning a world cruise, and we finally decided that she'd simply shaken off the Nagles—since Grandmother wasn't there for them to sponge on, and she didn't care to be sponged on herself. She'd gone off on her own.”

“Luggage?” asked Gamadge.

“She'd taken it away with her in a cab the day before.”

“She didn't say good-bye?”

“No. You must remember that she had been Grandmother's special property, accountable to none of us; she didn't even have meals with us—she had them upstairs on a tray. We hardly knew that she was in the house, except when she was caught hanging around doors.”

Gamadge said after a pause: “You say you did make some kind of search of the music room that morning?”

“We only looked around; we didn't think anything was hidden. What fools we were.”

“And tomorrow”—Gamadge eyed her thoughtfully—“you're going to look for treasure in the music room?”

“Yes. Even Elena, though she's not an heir. She thinks it's all a great lark, and so does Garth. They think Nonie is rather a joke, and they're not a bit afraid of publicity. They see it everywhere, all their friends think it's great fun to be in the news. Nonie would never have given
them
nightmares; probably they'd have given parties for her. I think they're better off than we were. Even in my day such things were taken too solemnly.”

“Perhaps so. But why am I to be in on this treasure hunt, Mrs. Leeder? I don't understand it at all. Surely you don't need me to help you find the buttons? There will be eight of you, won't there, and a lawyer besides to direct your efforts? Why me?”

Mrs. Leeder was looking out the window. When she turned to him her face was set in an expression of grim resolve. “It will be dark in there, Mr. Gamadge, with that bricked window; even with flashlights and candlelight it will be none too easy to find things; and the more of us there are, the harder it will be. I suggested a lamp on a long wire from the socket in the hall, but they wouldn't bother, and I didn't insist. I kept my insistence for more important matters.”

Gamadge said after a moment: “I see the implication. It's a grave one.”

“How long do you think it took me to make up my mind about confiding in you—in anybody? What do you think it cost me to admit that I don't trust any of them? But I'm rather alone in the family, Mr. Gamadge; Uncle Gavan and Aunt Cynthia are brother and sister, the last of their generation. They pool their interests. Seward thinks of Elena and she of him. Garth thinks only of himself. Rowe Leeder doesn't put himself forward, he probably won't even go into the music room. They all think that he's only an heir by accident, because Grandmother died; they all think his being mixed up in the Sillerman case killed her. Perhaps he thinks so too, but I know he never in the world would interfere about these buttons. I'm quite alone. Mr. Allsop is too old—he wouldn't see what was happening. If you were there you would see.”

“But why should your family tolerate my presence there?”

“They'll tolerate it.”

“Have you asked them?”

“No. I'll speak to them this afternoon; I shan't ask.”

Gamadge looked puzzled. He said: “What reason have you for thinking that any of them would do such a thing—try to steal the buttons?”

She said: “During the last ten years three objects of value have disappeared from the house, and the servants can't have taken them.”

“Oh. I see.”

“You can see why their loss was never mentioned to anybody outside the family, least of all to Mr. Allsop.”

“You mean that such a loss might have invalidated your right to inherit? The right of you all?”

“We were afraid it might.”

“But surely no court—”

“We never dared risk it. We all had too much at stake. But if such a thing could happen three times, why not a fourth? They'll all know why I asked you to come, Mr. Gamadge; they won't protest.”

Gamadge smiled. “Perhaps not; but if they don't, they may burst.”

“I know it's too disagreeable a thing to ask of anyone; but what if there were pearls? And we all need the money so much.”

“What were the things that got stolen, Mrs. Leeder?”

“They were all part of the loot from the Winter Palace of Pekin. Grandfather knew everybody in those days and travelled everywhere, and somehow he acquired the things. The first to go was an ancient seal of the emperors of China; jade, and worth thousands.”

“It would be.”

“It was kept in a cabinet in the reception-room downstairs; none of us ever thought it would tempt burglars; how would they know what it was?”

“And it would only be saleable in a very special market.”

“Yes. I discovered that loss, Roberts the next one: a very old tea-pot, very ugly too. It was kept on a top shelf among the most valuable china, which Roberts washed and dusted himself twice a year. One spring day it—the tea-pot—had gone. There was a great to-do again, but nobody suggested writing to the insurance company. Less than ever did we want publicity; least of all did we want to go to court. And you can imagine how pleasant the situation was at home.”

“Very difficult.”

“That was six years ago. Then, three years ago, Aunt Cynthia asked me to help her look for some Chinese brocades in one of Grandmother's trunks in the storage attic. A chair in the reception-room was shabby—we never renewed anything if we could help it—and Aunt Cynthia thought she might throw a brocade over it. I noticed that the lock of another trunk was broken, and a mandarin coat was gone out of it. Eighteenth century, I think it was.

“After that we all looked askance at one another; there was a confirmed thief in the house. We never even questioned the cook and maids—too absurd; and poor Roberts was heartbroken.

“But of course we did realize that the thief may have regarded the things as part of his—her—inheritance.”

Gamadge asked after a silence: “None of you wondered whether Aggie Fitch mightn't have come back?”

“Aggie Fitch?” She was amazed.

“Well, yes; couldn't she have paid a surreptitious visit from time to time? She knew the house and the valuables, and I suppose she could have retained a door key.”

“None of us ever even thought of Aggie Fitch.”

“She'd have known there wouldn't be an outcry.”

“I wish it were true.”

“She may never have gone farther from you than a bus could take her in an hour. Those Nagles, Mrs. Leeder—where do they live?”

“Heaven knows. I think they used to live in Jersey City.”

“Didn't anybody ever suggest any theory at all to excul-pate the Clayborn family?”

“Uncle Gavan and Seward did try to suggest something, but they never dared quite put it into words to
me
.”

“Mr. Leeder?”

“Yes. Rowe Leeder isn't a thief.”

“Why did they suggest him?”

“Because he had been so very poor, and because he began to come back to the house just before the emperor's seal was taken—or at least missed.”

“He knows about these stolen things, and about the buttons?”

“Yes. He's always known about the buttons. Grandmother and Nonie used to show him lots of their hoard; he gets on with anybody. It's a great gift. People don't irritate him, they just amuse him; even Aggie Fitch did.”

“He is uncritical?”

“I don't think he's ever taken in; he simply doesn't think it's ever worth while to be annoyed.”

“Then he's mistaken.”

“I'm not good at analysing people; I don't want you to misjudge him. You'll meet him this afternoon—if you still intend to stay.”

“I'll stay, and no matter how much my feelings are lacerated I'll come tomorrow.”

“I do thank you.”

“But I can't help feeling, Mrs. Leeder, that you're a courageous woman; to bait your relatives like this.”

She was surprised. “I'm not afraid of them.”

“Evidently not.”

“They'll be angry, but they'll restrain themselves. Would they like me to confide in Mr. Allsop instead of you?”