The mystery of Angelina Frood
was left to her by an aunt who lived here: a cousin of Japp’s.
Angelina came down here a few weeks ago on the q.t. to get away from
hubby, and I fancy she’s been keeping pretty close.”
“She’s living in lodgings, then, I suppose?”
“Yes; at least she lives in a set of offices that Japp furnished for
her, and the lady who rents the rest of the house looks after her. As
a matter of fact, the offices are next door to ours; but you had
better consider that information as confidential, at any rate while
hubby is in the neighbourhood. This is your shanty.”
He halted at the door of a rather small, red brick house, and while I
was examining the half-obliterated inscription on the brass plate, he
thrust the key into the lock and made ineffectual efforts to turn it.
Suddenly there was a loud click from within, followed by the clanking
of a chain and the drawing of bolts. Then the door opened slowly, and
a long-faced, heavy-browed, elderly woman surveyed us with a gloomy
stare.
“Why didn’t you ring the bell?” she demanded, gruffly.
“Had a key,” replied Bundy, extracting it, and flourishing it before
her face.
“And what’s the good of a key when the door was bolted and chained?”
“But, naturally, I couldn’t see that the door was bolted and chained.”
“I suppose you couldn’t with that thing stuck in your eye. Well, what
do you want?”
“I have brought this gentleman, Dr. Strangeways, to see you. He has
seen your portraits in the shop windows and wished to be introduced.
Also he wants to look over the house. He thinks of taking the
practice.”
“Well, why couldn’t you say that before?” she demanded.
“Before what?” he inquired blandly.
She made no reply other than a low growl, and Bundy continued:
“This lady, Dr. Strangeways, is the renowned Mrs. Dunk, more
familiarly known as La Giaconda, who administered the domestic affairs
of the late Dr. Partridge, and is at present functioning as custodian
of the premises.” He concluded the presentation by a ceremonious bow
and a sweep of his hat, which Mrs. Dunk acknowledged by turning her
back on him and producing a large bunch of keys, with which she
proceeded to unlock the doors that opened on the hall.
“The upstairs rooms are unlocked,” she said, adding: “If you want me
you can ring the bell,” and with this she retired to the basement
stairs and vanished.
My examination of the rooms was rather perfunctory, for I had made up
my mind already. The premium was absurdly small, and I could see that
the house was furnished well enough for my immediate needs. As to the
practice, I had no particular expectations.
“Better have a look at the books,” said Bundy when we went into the
little surgery, “though Mr. Turcival has been through them, and I
daresay he has told you all about the practice.”
“Yes,” I answered, “he told me that the practice was very small and
that I probably shouldn’t get much of it, as Partridge was an old man
and I am a young one. Still, I may as well glance through the books.”
Bundy laid the day book and ledger on the desk and placed a stool by
the latter, and I seated myself and began to turn over the leaves and
note down a few figures on a slip of paper, while my companion
beguiled the time by browsing round the surgery, taking down bottles
and sniffing at their contents, pulling out drawers and inspecting the
instruments and appliances. A very brief examination of the books
served to confirm Mr. Turcival’s modest estimate of the practice, and
when I had finished, I closed them and turned round to report to Mr.
Bundy, who was, at the moment, engaged in “sounding” the surgery clock
with the late Dr. Partridge’s stethoscope.
“I think it will do,” said I. “The practice is negligible, but the
furniture and fittings are worth the money, and I daresay I shall get
some patients in time. At any rate, the premises are all in going
order.”
“You are not dependent on the practice, then?” said he.
“No. I have enough just barely to exist on until the patients begin to
arrive. But what about the house?”
“You can have a lease if you like, or you can go on with the
arrangement that Partridge had. If I were you, I should take the house
on a three years’ agreement with the option of a lease later if you
find that the venture turns out satisfactorily.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “that seems a good arrangement. And when could I have
possession?”
“You’ve got possession now if you agree to the terms. Say yes, and
I’ll draft out the agreement when I get back. You and Mrs. Frood can
sign it this evening. You give us a cheque and we give you your copy
of the document, and the thing is d-u-n, done.”
“And what about this old woman?”
“La Giaconda Dunkibus? I should keep her if I were you. She looks an
old devil, but she’s a good servant. Partridge had a great opinion of
her, so Japp tells me, and you can see for yourself that the house is
in apple-pie order and as clean as a new pin.”
“You think she would be willing to stay?”
Bundy grinned (he was a good deal given to grinning, and he certainly
had a magnificent set of teeth). “Willing!” he exclaimed. “She’s going
to stay whether you want her or not. She has been here the best part
of her life and nothing short of a torpedo would shift her. You’ll
have to take her with the fixtures, but I don’t think you’ll regret
it.”
As Bundy was speaking, I had been, half-unconsciously, looking him
over, interested in the queer contrast between his almost boyish
appearance and gay irresponsible manner on the one hand, and, on the
other, his shrewdness, his business capacity, and his quick, decisive,
evidently forceful character.
To look at, he was just a young “nut,” small, spruce, dandified, and
apparently not displeased with himself. His age I judged to be about
twenty-five, his height about five feet six. In figure, he was slight,
but well set-up, and he seemed active and full of life and energy. He
was extraordinarily well turned-out. From his close-cropped head, with
the fore-lock “smarmed” back in the correct “nuttish” fashion, so that
his cranium resembled a large black-topped filbert, to his
immaculately polished and remarkably small shoes, there was not an
inch of his person that had not received the most careful attention.
He was clean-shaved; so clean that on the smooth skin nothing but the
faint blue tinge on cheek and chin remained to suggest the coarse and
horrid possibilities of whiskers. And his hands had evidently received
the same careful attention as his face; indeed, even as he was talking
to me, he produced from his pocket some kind of ridiculous little
instrument with which he proceeded to polish his finger-nails.
“Shall I ring the bell?” he asked after a short pause, “and call up
the spirit of the Dunklett from the vasty deep? May as well let her
know her luck.”
As I assented he pressed the bell-push, and in less than a minute Mrs.
Dunk made her appearance and stood in the doorway, looking inquiringly
at Bundy, but uttering no sound.
“Dr. Strangeways is going to take the practice, Mrs. Dunk,” said
Bundy, “inclusive of the house, furniture, and all effects, and he is
also prepared to take you at a valuation.”
As the light of battle began to gleam in Mrs. Dunk’s eyes, I thought
it best to intervene and conduct the negotiations myself.
“I understand from Mr. Bundy,” said I, “that you were Dr. Partridge’s
housekeeper for many years, and it occurred to me that you might be
willing to act in the same capacity for me. What do you say?”
“Very well,” she replied. “When do you want to move in?”
“I propose to move in at once. My luggage is at the station.”
“Have you checked the inventory?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t, but I suppose nothing has been taken away?”
“No,” she answered. “Everything is as it was when Dr. Partridge died.”
“Then we can go over the inventory later. I will have my things sent
up from the station, and I shall come in during the afternoon to
unpack.”
She agreed concisely to this arrangement, and, when we had settled a
few minor details, I departed with Bundy to make my way to the station
and thereafter to go in search of lunch.
“You think,” said I, as we halted opposite the station approach, “that
we can get everything completed to-day?”
“Yes,” he replied, “I will get the agreement drawn up in the terms
that we have just settled on, and will make an appointment with Mrs.
Frood. You had better look in at the office about half-past six.”
He turned away with a friendly nod and a flash of his white teeth, and
bustled off up the street, swinging his smart cane jauntily, and
looking, with his trim, well-cut clothes, his primrose-coloured
gloves, and his glistening shoes, the very type of cheerful,
prosperous, self-respecting and self-satisfied youth.
CHAPTER III.
ANGELINA FROOD
Punctually at half-past six I presented myself at the office of
Messrs. Japp and Bundy. The senior partner was seated at a
writing-table covered with legal-looking documents, and, as I entered,
he looked up with a genial, wrinkly smile of recognition, and then
turned to his junior.
“You’ve got Dr. Strangeways’s agreement ready, haven’t you, Bundy?” he
asked.
“Just finished it five minutes ago,” was the reply. “Here you are.”
Bundy swung round on his stool and held out the two copies. “Would you
mind going through it with Dr. Strangeways?” said Japp. “And then you
might go with him to Mrs. Frood’s and witness the signatures. I told
her you were coming.”
Bundy pulled out his watch, and glared at it through his great
spectacles.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I’m afraid I can’t. There’s old Baldwin, you
know. I’ve got to be there at a quarter to seven.”
“So you have,” said Japp, “I had forgotten that. You had better be off
now. I’ll see to Dr. Strangeways, if he isn’t in a hurry for a minute
or two.”
“I’m not in a hurry at all,” said I. “Don’t put yourself out for me.”
“Well, if you really are not,” said Japp, “I’ll just finish what I am
doing, and then I’ll run in with you and get the agreement completed.
You might look through it while you are waiting and see that it is all
in order.”
Bundy handed me the agreement, and, as I sat down to study it, he
removed his spectacles, stuck his eye-glass in his eye, hopped off his
perch, brought forth his hat, gloves, and stick, and, having presented
his teeth for my inspection, took his departure.
I read through the agreement carefully to ascertain that it embodied
the terms agreed on verbally and compared the two copies. Then, while
Mr. Japp continued to turn over the leaves of his documents, I let my
thoughts stray from the trim, orderly office to the house of mystery
in London and the strange events that had befallen there on that rainy
night more than a year ago. Once more I called up before the eyes of
memory the face of my mysterious patient, sweet and gracious in spite
of its deathly pallor. Many a time, in the months that had passed, had
I recalled it: so often that it seemed, in a way, to have become
familiar. In a few minutes I was going to look upon that face
again--for there could be no reasonable doubt that my prospective
landlady was she. I looked forward expectantly, almost with
excitement, to the meeting. Would she recognize me? I wondered. And if
she did not, should I make myself known? This was a difficult
question, and I had come to no decision upon it when I was aroused
from my reverie by a movement on the part of Mr. Japp, whose labours
had apparently come to an end. Folding up the documents and securing
them in little bundles with red tape, he deposited them in a cupboard
with his notes, and from the same receptacle took out his hat.
“Now,” said he, “if you find the agreement in order, we will proceed
to execute it. Are you going to pay the premium now?”