The Golden Ball and Other Stories Read online

  Dorothy put away the mirror. She turned to him, one

  hand on the rubies round her neck.

  "How do I look?" she asked.

  Edward stared at her, his grievance forgotten. He had never seen Dorothy quite like this. There was a triumph

  about her, a kind of regal beauty that was completely new

  to him. The belief that she had jewels round her neck worth

  fifty thousand pounds had made of Dorothy Pratt a new

  woman. She looked insolently serene a kind of Cleopatra

  and Semiramis and Zenobia rolled into one.

  "You look--you look--stunning," said Edward humbly.

  Dorothy laughed, and her laugh, too, was entirely different.

  "Look here," said Edward. "We've got to do something. We must take them to a police station or something."

  "Nonsense," said Dorothy. "You said yourself just now that they wouldn't believe you. You'll probably be sent to

  prison for stealing them."

  "Butmbut what else can we do?"

  "Keep them," said the new Dorothy Pratt. Edward stared at her.

  "Keep them? You're mad."

  "We found them, didn't we? Why should we think they're

  valuable7 We'll keep them and I shall wear them." "And the police will pinch you."

  Dorothy considered this for a minute or two.

  "All fight," she said. "We'll/sell them. ,,A, nd you can buy a Rolls-Royce, or two Rolls-Pgbyces, and I 11 buy a diamond

  headthing and some rings."

  Still Edward stared. Dorothy showed impatience.

  "You've got your chance nowmit's up to you to take it. We didn't steal the thing---I wouldn't hold with that.

  80 Agatha Christie

  It's come to us and it's probably the only chance we'll ever

  have of getting all the things we want. Haven't you got any

  spunk at all, Edward Palgrovc?"

  Edward found his voice.

  "Sell it, you say? That wouldn't be so jolly easy. Any

  jeweller would want to know where I got the blooming

  thing."

  "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 geting home."

  "Wearing that thing round your neck?"

  Dorothy removed the necklace, looked at it rcvcrenfiy

  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

  cvcr 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 srted the Austin. They were both

  too excited to remember tea. They drove back to London

  in silence. Once at a crossroads, a policeman stepped towards

  the car, and Edward's heart missed a beat. By a

  miracle, they reached home without mishap.

  A FRUITFUL SUNDAY

  81

  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 though 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 relalied in the negative.

  "Well, look here, Ted, you mustn't. I've been lying

  awake all nig:ht. It's been awful. Thinking of how it says

  in the Bible you mustn't steal. I must have been mad yes-terday--I

  really must. You won't do anything, will you,

  Ted, dear?"

  Did a feelimg 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 witlh eyes of steel.

  "Oh, but, Wed, dear, you mustn't. Oh, Lord, she's coming. Look hee, Ted, she's going out to dinner tonight.

  can slip out amd meet you. Don't do anything till you'v

  seen me. Eighat o'clock. Wait for me round the corner." Her

  voice changectl to a seraphic murmur.. "Yes, ma'am, I think

  it was a wro,ng number. It was Bloomsbury 0243 they

  wanted."

  As Edwardl left the office at six o'clock, a huge headline

  caught his eyee.

  JEWELL ROBBERY. LATEST DEVELOPMENTS

  82

  Agatha Christie

  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 this!"

  He thrust a newspaper paragraph under her nose Dorothy read:

  NEW ADVERTISING STUNT

  A clever new advertising dodge is being adopted by the All-English Fivepenny Fair who intend to challenge

  the famous Woolworths. Baskets of fruit were

  sold yesterday and will be on sale every Sunday. Out

  of every fifty baskets, one will contain an imitation

  necklace in different coloured stones. These necklaces

  are really wonderful value for the money. Great excitement

  and merriment was caused by them yesterday

  and EAT MORE FRUIT will have a great vogue next

  Sunday. We congratulate the Fivepenny Fair on their

  resource and wish them all good luck in their campaign

  of Buy British Goods.

  "Well
--" said Dorothy.

  And after a pause: "Well!"

  "Yes," said Edward. "I felt the same."

  A passing man thrust a paper into his hand.

  "Take one, brother," he said.

  "The price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies."

  A FRUITFUL SUNDAY

  "There!" said Edward. "I hope that cheers you up."

  "I don't know," said Dorothy doubtfully. "I don't exactl want to look like a good woman."

  "You don't," said F-lward. "That's why the man gav me that paper. With those rubies round your neck you don

  look one little bit like a good woman."

  Dorothy laughed.

  "You're rather a dear, Ted," she said. "Come on, letL, go to the pictures.'

  The Golden Ball

  George Dundas stood in the City of London meditating.

  All about him toilers and moneymakers surged and flowed like an enveloping tide. But George, beautifully dressed,

  his trousers exquisitely creased; took no heed of them. He

  was busy thinking what to do next.

  Something had occurred! Between George and his rich uncle (Ephraim Leadbetter of the finn of Leadbetter and

  Gilling) there had been what is called in a lower walk of

  life "words." To be strictly accurate, the words had been

  almost entirely on Mr. Leadbetter's side. They had flowed

  from his lips in a steady stream of bitter indignation, and

  the fact that they consisted almost entirely of repetition did

  not seem to have worried him. To say a thing once beautifully

  and then let it alone was not one of Mr. Leadbetter's

  mottoes.

  The theme was a simple one--the criminal folly and wickedness of a young man, who has his way to make,

  taking a day off in the middle of the week without even

  asking leave. Mr. Leadbetter, when he had said everything

  he could think of and several things twice, paused for breath

  and asked George what he meant by it.

  George replied simply that he had felt he wanted a day off. A holiday, in fact.

  And what, Mr. Leadbetter wanted to know, were Saturday afternoon and Sunday? To say nothing of Whitsun-tide,

  not long past, and August Bank Holiday to come?

  George said he didn't care for Saturday afternoons, Sundays or Bank Holidays. He meant a real day, when it might

  be possible to find some spot where half London was not

  assembled already.

  THE GOLDEN BALL

  Mr. Leadbetter then said that he had done his best by his dead sister's son--nobody could say he hadn't given

  him a chance. But it was plain that it was no use. And in

  future George could have five real days with Saturday and

  Sunday added to do with as he liked.

  "The golden ball of opportunity has been thrown up for

  you, my boy," said Mr. Leadbetter in a last touch of poetical

  fancy. "And you have failed to grasp it."

  George said it seemed to him that that was just what he

  had done, and Mr. Leadbetter dropped poetry for wrath and

  told him to get out.

  Hence George--meditating. Would his uncle relent or

  would he not? Had he any secret affection for George, or

  merely a cold distaste?

  It was just at that moment that a voice--a most unlikely

  voice--said, "Hallo!"

  A scarlet touring car with an immense long hood had

  drawn up to the curb beside him. At the wheel was that

  beautiful and popular society girl, Mary Montresor. (The

  description is that of the illustrated papers who produced a

  portrait of her at least four times a month.) She was smiling

  at George in an accomplished manner.

  "I never knew a man could look so like an island," said

  Mary Montresor. "Would you like to get in?"

  "I should love it above all things," said George with no

  hesitation, and stepped in beside her.

  They proceeded slowly because the traffic forbade anything

  else.

  "I'm tired of the city," said Mary Montresor. "I came to

  see what it was like. I shall go back to London."

  Without presuming to correct her geography, George said

  it was a splendid idea. They proceeded sometimes slowly,

  sometimes with wild bursts of speed when Mary Montresor

  saw a chance of cutting in. It seemed to George that she

  was somewhat optimistic in the latter view, but he reflected

  that one could only die once. He thought it best, however,

  to essay no conversation. He preferred his fair driver to keep

  strictly to the job in hand.

  It was she who reopened the conversation, choosing the

  moment when they were doing a wild sweep round Hyde

  Park Corner.

  86

  Agatha Christie

  "How would you like to marry me?" she inquired cas

  ually.

  George gave a gasp, but that may have been due to a

  large bus that seemed to spell certain destruction. He prided

  himself on his quickness in response.

  "I should love it," he replied easily.

  "Well," said Mary Montresor vaguely. "Perhaps you may

  someday."

  They turned into the straight without accident, and at

  that moment George perceived large new bills at Hyde Park

  Corner tube station. Sandwiched between GRAVE POLITICAL

  SITUATION and COLONEL IN DOCK, one said SOCIETY GIRL

  TO MARRY DUKE, and the other DUKE OF EDGEHILL AND MISS

  MONTRESOR.

  "What's this about the Duke of Edgehill?" demanded

  George sternly.

  "Me and Bingo? We're engaged."

  "But then--what you said just now---"

  "Oh, that," said Mary Montresor. "You see, I haven't

  made up my mind who I shall actually marry."

  "Then why did you get engaged to him?"

  "Just to see if I could. Everybody seemed to think it

  would be frightfully difficult, and it wasn't a bit!"

  "Very rough luck on--er--Bingo," said George, mas

  tering his embarrassment at calling a real live duke by a

  nickname.

  "Not at all," said Mary Montresor. "It will be good for

  Bingo, if anything could do him good--which I doubt."

  George made another discovery--again aided by a con

  venient poster.

  "Why, of course, it's cup day at Ascot. I should have

  thought that was the one place you were simply bound to

  be today."

  Mary Montresor sighed.

  "I wanted a holiday," she said plaintively.

  "Why, so did I," said George, delighted. "And as a result

  my uncle has kicked me out to starve." ,,my

  "Then in case we marry," said Mary,

  twenty thousand

  a year may come in useful?"

  "It will certainly provide us with a few home comforts,"

  said George.

  THE GOLDEN BALL

  87

  "Talking of homes," said Mary, "let's go in the country and find a home we would like to live in."

  It seemed a simple and channing plan. They negotiated Putney Bridge, reached the Kingston by-pass and with a

  sigh of satisfaction Mary pressed her foot down on the

  accelerator. They got into the country very quickly. It was

  half an hour later that with a sudden exclamation Mary shot

  out a dramatic hand and pointed.

  On the brow of a hill in front of them there nestled a house of what house agents describe (but seldom truthfully)

  as "old-w
orld charm." Imagine the description of most houses

  in the country really come true for once, and you get an

  idea of this house.

  Mary drew up outside a white gate.

  "We'll leave the car and go up and look at it. It's our house!"

  "Decidedly, it's our house," agreed George. "But just for the moment other people seem to be living in it."

  Mary dismissed the other people with a wave of her hand. They walked up the winding drive together. The house

  appeared even more desirable at close quarters.

  "We'll go and peep in at all the windows," said Mary. George demurred.

  "Do you think the other people--"

  "I shan't consider them. It's our house--they're only living in it by a sort of accident. Besides, it's a lovely day and they're sure to be out. And if anyone does catch us, I

  shall say--I shall say--that I thought it was Mrs.--Mrs.

  Pardonstenger's house, and that I am so sorry I made a

  mistake."

  "Well, that ought to be safe enough," said George reflectively.

  They looked in through windows. The house was delightfully furnished. They had just got to the study when

  footsteps crunched on the gravel behind them and they turned

  to face a most irreproachable butler.

  "Oh!" said Mary. And then putting on her most enchanting smile, she said, "Is Mrs. Pardonstenger in? I was looking

  to see if she was in the study."

  "Mrs. Pardonstenger is at home, madam," said the butler. "Will you come this way, please."

  88 Agatha Christie

  They did the only thing they could. They followed him. George was calculating what the odds against this happening

  could possibly be. With a name like Pardonstenger he came

  to the conclusion it was about one in twenty thousand. His