The Treasure at Poldarrow Point (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) (5 page)

The next morning Angela took a solitary walk into Tregarrion, leaving behind Barbara, who was determined to go down to the cove and find the tunnel that led from the beach up to Poldarrow Point. It was a fine, breezy day, the sun obscured only occasionally by the odd white cloud scudding cheerily across the sky. The square bulk of the Hotel Splendide looked bright and clean in the sunlight, and the path was dotted with holiday-makers enjoying a stroll along the cliff top. Angela glanced at the hotel terrace as she passed. A few late risers were still at breakfast, and among them she spotted the Dorseys, who were yawning glumly over their eggs. Lionel Dorsey looked up at Angela as she went by and raised his hand in salutation. He said something to his wife, who also turned to look. Her eyes narrowed for a second, then she produced a thin smile and returned to her breakfast without a word.

Tregarrion was busy that morning, its cobbled streets bustling with townsfolk and tourists alike. The quaint little fishermen’s cottages that lined the harbour appeared to their best advantage in the July sunshine, as though dressed in their Sunday finery, and the salty tang in the air was bracing and refreshing. The whole scene suited Angela’s mood exactly, and she wandered the streets of the little town in a pleasant day-dream, thinking of not very much except the sights and sounds before her.

On the harbour pier an artist had set up an impromptu exhibition of sea scenes and
landscapes, which were supposed to represent local beauty spots. They were rather garish. Angela was gazing at one particularly gaudy painting of a Cornish lugger and wondering how it was expected to stay afloat given that it was listing alarmingly to starboard, when she became aware of a presence at her shoulder. She turned and saw George Simpson standing next to her. He was as immaculately turned-out as ever, wearing a light suit that was just the right side of elegant, and seeming altogether at ease with himself. He smiled and gave a slight bow as Angela recognized him.

‘I see you are a lover of art, Mrs. Marchmont,’ he said.

‘I don’t know quite how to reply to that,’ said Angela, laughing. ‘I hope you’re not referring to these paintings. They are certainly intriguing, although whether one could call them art is another question altogether.’

Simpson laughed too.

‘I confess I was being polite,’ he said. ‘One has to be very careful in matters of taste—especially other people’s taste. But I am glad we seem to be in agreement on these paintings, at least. How do you like Tregarrion?’

‘I like it very much,’ said Angela. ‘The place is undeniably beautiful and we have been most fortunate with the weather so far.’

‘How long are you intending to stay?’

‘I’m not sure. For another week or two at least,’ she replied. ‘The lady who owns Kittiwake Cottage broke her leg and so was unable to come, but sooner or later her leg will mend and she will want her house back. I shall be sorry to leave. I believe you are staying at the hotel?’

He bowed in assent and invited her to walk along the pier with him.

‘In the interests of beginning our acquaintance on the right foot, I believe I must confess that I knew something of you already before we met,’ he said. ‘In fact, I recognized your face immediately when I saw you on the cliff top the other day.’

‘Oh? I suppose you have seen me in the papers. I am rather hounded by reporters these days owing to some recent unfortunate events.’

‘Yes, but not only that,’ he said. ‘I believe you are a friend of my colleague Inspector Jameson.’

Angela looked up, surprised.

‘Your colleague? What, are you—then you must be—’

He nodded.

‘Yes, I am a Scotland Yard man too, for my sins. Inspector Simpson at your service—although here I am plain
Mr.
Simpson, if you don’t mind. Even representatives of the law take holidays once in a while, and for some reason the word “Inspector” inspires every Tom, Dick and Harry to bother one constantly with tales of lost dogs and dishonest waiters.’

‘Of course, I entirely understand, and I shan’t mention it to anybody.’ said Angela. ‘Of all people, you deserve a rest now and again.’

So that was why he had attracted her attention. Angela could only suppose that her recent encounters with the law had turned her into one of those people who could recognize a policeman at fifty paces.

They walked on, remarking occasionally on some aspect of the view that caught their attention and talking about things they had seen in Tregarrion and around. He seemed remarkably well-informed about the area, and told her some interesting stories of local history that she had not previously heard. The conversation then turned to their mutual acquaintances.

‘Are Mrs. Walters and her daughter friends of yours?’ he asked.

‘No, I met them only a day or two ago,’ she replied. ‘They are staying in the cottage next door to mine. Mrs. Walters is an invalid who has come here for her
health.’

‘With Miss Walters to look after her,’ he said. ‘It must be a great advantage to have someone to call upon at such times, although I don’t suppose it is much fun for the daughter.’

‘No,’ agreed Angela. ‘If her mother were really sick then it would be another matter, but I can’t help thinking that Mrs. Walters’ indisposition is as much for her own convenience as anything else. I have noticed that she is often quite well when it suits her.’

He smiled.

‘Poor Miss Walters,’ he said. ‘Such a shame for a young girl to be held prisoner by her own mother.’

‘Yes, I suppose she is a prisoner, although I had not thought of it in quite those terms. Still, perhaps she will break free one day and surprise us all.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘I believe you have a little girl staying with you,’ he went on, by way of a partial change of subject. ‘Is she your daughter?’

‘No, I have no children. She is my god-daughter. She turned up unexpectedly a day or two ago when the family with whom she was supposed to be spending the holidays all caught scarlet fever.’

‘She looks to be something of a handful.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Angela fervently. ‘To tell the truth, I have no idea what to do with her or how to manage her. Fortunately she is a good child at heart and has a very independent spirit, so I think there is no harm in letting her run wild a little while she is here. She has rather foisted herself upon the people at Poldarrow Point, though, so I shall have to keep an eye on her to make sure that she doesn’t bother them too much.’

‘The people at Poldarrow Point?’ he said. ‘Do you mean Miss Trout and her nephew?’

‘Yes—do you know them?’

‘Not to speak to. I understood from Mrs. Walters that they are not very sociable.’

‘They have been very friendly to us,’ said Angela. ‘We visited them at home yesterday and Miss Trout was telling us all about her ancestors, who were smugglers.’

‘Her ancestors at Poldarrow Point?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is very interesting,’ he said. Angela expected him to continue but he said nothing more and indeed seemed to have fallen into a brown study. They walked in
silence until they reached the end of the pier and stopped to look at the water. The sea was choppy, alternating bright green and dark blue as the clouds passed over, and fishing-boats swept in and out of the harbour, accompanied by scattering crowds of shrieking gulls.

‘I should like to go out in a boat,’ said Angela impulsively. ‘I wonder whether it is possible to hire one hereabouts. I should like to go up and down the coast and see the shore to full advantage.’

‘I dare say one might be found,’ said Simpson. ‘Do you sail?’

‘I did many years ago, but I am quite out of practice. And in any case, I was thinking more of hiring a boat complete with pilot. I am here on doctor’s orders and I intend to take it easy,’ she said, laughing.

‘Have you been ill?’ he said with concern.

‘Oh, nothing too serious—just a bout of influenza. But I was glad to take the excuse for a holiday.’

‘And you have picked the right place for it. I can’t imagine anywhere healthier in England—although the breeze is a little chilly out here. Shall we go back? I should hate for you to get ill again.’

They turned and headed back towards the shore. A group of excitable young people were standing before the paintings, exclaiming in delight. They were all asking questions at once of the artist, who knew a good prospect when he saw one, and was wearing his most ingratiating smile.

‘I wonder whether Barbara has found the smugglers’ tunnel that leads from Poldarrow Cove to the old house,’ said Angela as they strolled up through the town. ‘When I left her she was determined to find it. Miss Trout told us some story of a treasure which is meant to be hidden in the house, and I think Barbara imagines that she will find it in the tunnel.’

‘A treasure, indeed! That must be very exciting for a child. What kind of treasure is it?’

‘A necklace that is supposed to have been made for Queen Marie Antoinette. It was brought here secretly a hundred and fifty years ago and never seen again. Whether it ever existed is uncertain—I doubt it myself—but Barbara has decided that she will find it come what may, and save Miss Trout from being evicted from her home. I fear that Miss Trout is fated to spend the next week or two discovering exactly what it is like to have a twelve-year-old girl rummaging about noisily in one’s house.’

‘Did Miss Trout herself tell you about the necklace?’

‘Yes—she said it was a family legend that had been passed down over the years, and she showed us a journal written by Richard Warrener, the house’s original owner, which hinted at its existence—albeit inconclusively, to my mind.’

‘So it has never been found,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Is Miss Trout to be evicted, then? I thought the house belonged to her family.’

‘It is only leased, and the lease expires on the fifth of August. I think Miss Trout is hoping that “something will turn up,” as Mr. Micawber said.’

‘And that something is the necklace?’

‘She did not say so, but I got the impression that she believed in its existence, yes. She put up a show of polite resistance, but I think she was only too glad to have someone young to help her in the search.’

‘And shall you help?’

‘I should rather not be drawn into a wild-goose chase,’ said Angela. ‘I have already agreed to look into another matter. It appears that Miss Trout is also receiving anonymous letters, which make vague threats of doom if she doesn’t leave Poldarrow Point immediately.’

Simpson stopped dead.

‘Anonymous letters?’ he said, and looked grave. ‘But that is very serious. Very serious indeed.’

‘Oh? What do you mean?’

‘Why, he said, ‘if I am right, it means that Miss Trout and her nephew may be in some danger.’

‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed Mrs. Marchmont. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Let us say I strongly suspect it,’ he said.

‘But I have seen the letters, and I shouldn’t have said that they presaged any danger at all—rather, they seemed the work of some disgruntled neighbour who wanted to make mischief.’

He gazed at her thoughtfully, as though debating something in his mind, then he nodded.

‘Very well,’ he said, ‘I believe I shall have to “come clean,” as they say. ‘Let us go somewhere where we shall not be overheard.’

Angela’s curiosity was aroused and she agreed immediately. They headed away from the town and back up towards the cliff path. Just before the Hotel Splendide, in a sheltered spot, was a bench. They sat.

‘What did you mean, when you said Miss Trout was in danger?’ asked Angela impatiently, when Simpson showed no signs of beginning the conversation.

He sighed.

‘Mrs. Marchmont, I fear I have misled you slightly. I told you that I was here in a private capacity. That was not true. In fact, I have come to Tregarrion in search of a very dangerous criminal. But before I go on, you should know that I am supposed to be working under-cover, so I beg of you not to tell a soul of this.’

‘Naturally I shan’t say a word,’ Angela assured him. ‘Inspector Jameson can vouch for my discretion, if you doubt me.’

‘I don’t doubt you at all. I have heard him speak highly of you many times,’ he said with a smile.

‘Then tell me about this criminal,’ she said.

‘His name—as far as we know, for it may be an alias—is Edgar Valencourt, and he is notorious all over Europe as the most brazen of jewel-thieves. He first came to our notice about ten years ago with the theft of the fabulous jewelled tiara of the old Dowager Queen Dorothea von Hollenstern of Austria—a daring robbery that was only the first of many. He has a taste for the finest jewels owned by the great aristocratic and royal houses, and his method is always the same: he works himself into the confidence of wealthy dowagers and widows of grand families, posing sometimes as an art expert or director of a museum, sometimes as a well-known academic who is writing a history of the family in question—at any event winning their trust in one way or another. There is no reason to doubt him, since he
impersonates real experts and comes furnished with impeccable credentials. After a short time, he is allowed to look at the jewels. He admires them and flatters their foolish owner into believing that they make her look as young and beautiful as she ever was, then makes sure they are replaced and locked safely away in the presence of witnesses. Then he disappears, and shortly afterwards it is discovered that
M. le Directeur
from the museum is in fact away at present and has never heard of the Lady So-and-So, much less visited her country
château
, and that the diadem, or the necklace, or the bracelet, which was supposed to be locked away safely in its case, is in fact made of paste and the real one has gone!’

‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘Presumably he makes the exchange at an opportune moment while the lady’s attention is elsewhere. He must make his preparations very carefully—especially if he goes to the trouble of having duplicates made of the things he intends to steal.’

‘He is a most clever and audacious man,’ said Simpson, ‘and the police of several countries have been fooled on numerous occasions. We have come close to catching him several times but somehow he always escapes our clutches at the last minute. But I have resolved not to let it happen again—in fact, you might say that I have made it my personal mission to bring him to justice, come what may.’

‘Do you believe him to be in Tregarrion at this moment?’ asked Angela.

He nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I won’t bore you with the whole story, but through a rather convoluted route we recently received a report that Valencourt was intending to come to Cornwall in pursuit of a priceless jewel. The report indicated Tregarrion as his most likely destination. Of course, this puzzled us rather, since we had no knowledge of any members of European royalty staying in the area.’

‘It doesn’t seem quite the sort of place a foreign dignitary would choose to spend a holiday,’ agreed Angela.

‘Quite. I thought it was probably all a mare’s nest, but I didn’t want to miss any opportunity to catch Valencourt, however unlikely, so I came down here with the intention of keeping my eyes open. I had just begun to think that there was nothing in the report after all, and had in fact almost decided to leave Tregarrion tomorrow, but what you told me just now has given me pause for thought, and renewed hope that we may have run him to earth at last.’

‘Do you think Valencourt is after the necklace?’ asked Angela doubtfully.

‘I do not know for sure, but you must admit that it is a strange coincidence: we have reports that a notorious jewel-thief is in the area, and at the same time we
discover that a jewel of untold value, with a connection to the Queen of France, is thought to be hidden in a house nearby, which is inhabited by a frail old lady who is unlikely to be much threat to any determined thief.’

‘Miss Trout is a very pleasant lady,’ said Angela, ‘and even though she is rather frail, I shouldn’t say that she would be easy pickings. She appears to have all her wits about her—more so than many people of more tender years, as a matter of fact.’

‘Is that so?’ he said. ‘That is a very good thing for her, given her situation.’

‘But what is her situation, exactly? I must say, it sounds rather far-fetched to me. Even if, as you say, Edgar Valencourt is in Tregarrion, why do you think he is intending to steal the necklace? After all, it has not been seen for a hundred and fifty years, and we don’t even know for certain whether it was ever in the house, let alone whether it is still there today. How on earth does he expect to find it?’

‘That I cannot say, but I have had experience of the man, which you have not, and I can only assure you that there is seemingly no end to his cunning. If a man like Edgar Valencourt thinks it worth his while to come here in quest of a legendary jewel, then it seems almost certain that it is there for the taking. And what you tell me of the anonymous letters merely confirms my suspicion that he is here and up to no good.’

‘I wonder what his plan is,’ said Angela. ‘Those letters were very crudely written, and hardly seemed like the kind of device a sophisticated thief would use to get his victim out of the way.’

‘Perhaps not, but they may have been intended as a preliminary salvo—an attempt to remove Miss Trout with the minimum of effort on his part. I have no doubt that he has some more subtle plan up his sleeve if that one doesn’t work. Did Miss Trout seem worried by the letters at all?’

‘No—she seemed more bemused than anything else. They really were rather feeble, you know. I have them at home and can show them to you, if you like.’

He waved his hand.

‘Yes, I shall take a look at them later, but I doubt they will tell us anything useful.’

He stroked his chin, thinking.

‘What is to be done now?’ asked Angela. ‘Do you intend to warn Miss Trout of the danger?’

‘I think not—as a matter of fact, it is probably better if she knows nothing of the affair. We should only worry her unnecessarily. He may be a bad lot, but Valencourt has never been known to use violence against his victims, so she is not in any danger
of physical harm. And what is the worst that can happen if she knows nothing? Why, that Valencourt steals the necklace and she loses something that she never had in the first place! No, it is far better to keep it a secret from her.’

‘I see what you mean,’ conceded Angela, ‘but I can’t say I like the idea of his stealing the necklace and getting away with it. If it can be found then presumably either it will belong to Miss Trout, to do with as she wishes, or at the very least she will receive a large reward for finding it and will be able to stay at Poldarrow Point.’

‘Oh, rest assured that I have no intention of letting Valencourt get away scot-free,’ said Simpson. ‘On the contrary, I plan to arrest him and have him put in prison for a very long time. But since I am working under-cover, the fewer people who know about it the better.’

‘What does this Valencourt look like?’ asked Angela. ‘I shall keep an eye out for him myself.’

Simpson looked rather sheepish.

‘I am ashamed to say it, but we have no idea. He is a master of disguise and has assumed a different appearance for each of his robberies. All we know is that he is a man of about thirty-eight or forty, who was born in England of a French father and English mother. He was apparently brought up in various countries, and so speaks many languages fluently, but beyond that we know very little. He has successfully eluded us for several years now.’

‘Does he work alone, or with a gang?’

‘Alone, for the most part, although he will avail himself of accomplices on occasion. He has a network of dishonest jewellery dealers all over Europe, who collude with him to sell the stolen pieces—or, if they are too easily recognizable to sell, to break them up and dispose of the stones separately.’

‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘Very well, if you don’t intend to warn Miss Trout of her danger, what are you going to do?’

Simpson smiled.

‘Why, I am going to request the help of a well-known lady detective,’ he said.

‘I assume you mean me,’ said Angela. ‘Of course, you know that I am not really a detective?’

‘Perhaps not, but your frequent appearance in the newspapers means that you will be forever considered as such in the mind of the English public. Confess it, though: you do not really object to the deception.’

Angela did not reply directly, but only said, ‘I will certainly confess to having more than my share of natural curiosity and a desire to get to the bottom of any
mystery that happens to present itself.’

‘Then may I count on your help?’ said Simpson.

‘What is it that you wish me to do?’

‘Oh, very little. I do not demand that you catch the man single-handedly—no, leave it to the police to do that. All I ask is that you keep me informed of anything that happens at Poldarrow Point. Did Miss Trout ask you to investigate the anonymous letters?’

‘Yes, and I agreed to do so, although I hardly know where to start.’

‘Very good. Then you will see her often and she will tell you of any developments. In addition, your god-daughter is going to search for the necklace itself. I think I hardly need tell you that if she finds it, you must keep it safe and tell me at once. It might even be better to get it out of the house immediately if you can, so Valencourt does not have the opportunity to steal it from under your noses.’

‘Very well,’ said Angela. ‘I shall see what I can do. I should hate to see Miss Trout forced to leave her home just when the recovery of the necklace ought to make her quite safe from eviction.’

‘And don’t forget to keep the thing quiet,’ he said. ‘If Valencourt gets wind of the fact that we are on to him, then he will disappear and we shall have to start all over again. I don’t mind telling you that I take his continued freedom personally. I don’t like to lose a man even once, let alone several times, and Valencourt is as cunning as the devil. I shall be very glad to see him behind bars where he belongs.’

Angela promised to do as he asked, and they parted for the present, since Simpson had to report the new developments to his superiors.

‘I am at the hotel if anything comes up,’ he said as he was about to leave. ‘You may summon me at any time and I shall come.’

Angela walked slowly back to Kittiwake Cottage, her mind full of what she had just heard. What an extraordinary story! To think that a notorious jewel-thief was here under their very noses, planning his latest crime. It almost defied belief that such a thing could happen in this peaceful spot.

‘I shall have to take another look at those anonymous letters,’ she said to herself. ‘I can’t say I took them very seriously before, but it looks as though they may be more significant than I thought.’