The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (515 page)

“Theft?”

“Yes. A thousand dollars has been taken from the top of my desk.”

“Gosh! Are you sure?”

“I couldn’t be more so. It was lying there in new twenty-dollar bills when Colonel Whiteoak was with me. Didn’t you see it when you were searching for the brandy?”

“I’d swear it wasn’t there then.”

His expression was so open, so fearless, that Eugene Clapperton gave up all suspicion of him. He said solemnly, “Sidney, that man took the money. He crammed it in his pockets and hurried out through the french window.”

“If he did he’s crazy. He’d know he’d be the first one suspected.”

“why?”

“Well — who else?”

“what about you?”

“Do you suspect me?” He stared almost truculently at his cousin.

“Of course not. But he might think I should.”

“Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”

“Sure. But I’m willing to begin all over again. Let us have a systematic search.”

They searched every corner of the desk, every inch of the room. When they had finished, Swift said, “You’d better call in the police.”

“No. Not yet. I want to hear what he says about it.”

“Better not accuse him openly. I believe it’s a dangerous thing to do unless you have lots of evidence. He might bring a suit against you for defamation of character.”

“I won’t accuse him. Get him on the phone for me, please.”

Swift did so and Eugene Clapperton, in a hard voice, asked:

“Is that Colonel Whiteoak?”

“Yes,” answered a voice, the very sound of which filled him with a tremulous fury.

“Well, Colonel Whiteoak, I’ve something disagreeable to report.”

“Oh? Are those prospective piggeries of mine already making a stink?”

“This is a serious matter, sir.”

“Out with it, then.”

Mr. Clapperton cleared his throat. “Colonel Whiteoak, there was a pile of new twenty-dollar bills on my desk, amounting to one thousand dollars, when you were with me. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

Mr. Clapperton’s voice became a little shrill. “Colonel Whiteoak, that thousand dollars has been taken from my desk. It’s been stolen.”

There was laughter in Renny’s voice as he answered: “Really? Well, that will scarcely excite you — such a small, insignificant sum.”

“It is not small or insignificant. This is a very serious matter, sir.”

“what are you going to do about it? Do you suspect anyone?”

“Only one person has been in that room outside of my secretary and myself.”

“who?”

“You, Colonel Whiteoak.”

There was silence at the other end of the telephone for a space. Then Renny asked quietly:

“Are you accusing me of taking that money?”

“No — no, but I thought I’d like to know what you had to say about it? I thought perhaps —”

At the other end the receiver was hung up. Eugene Clapperton waited, listened, slammed his own receiver on the hook. He twisted his fingers together. Swift could see that he was in a rage.

“what did he say, Eugene?” he asked.

“He
laughed
— as though a thousand dollars was nothing. He hung up. I’ll show him whether it’s nothing or not. He asked me if I accused him — then he hung up while I was still talking.”

“You’ll not get anything out of him.”

“Do you mean that, if he took the money, I won’t get it back?”

“I don’t believe you will unless you can prove it and arrest him.”

“what better proof do I need? I’ll get a detective on the job at once.” He unlocked the french window and threw it open. He drew a deep breath of the fresh air. He watched while Swift mechanically continued the search, looking again and again in the same places. He exclaimed irritably, “I wish I had my hands on that man! I’d knock his ugly red head against the wall.”

Renny Whiteoak appeared in the french window.

“Did you want to see me?” he inquired.

“No — no — oh, no — that is —” Eugene Clapperton stood stammering, the colour receding from his face, leaving fine reddish veins exposed on the greyness of the skin. He drew backward a space, as Renny came into the room.

Sidney Swift’s eyes were dancing. He said, “I guess there’s been some sort of mistake. I guess Eugene’s excited.”

Mr. Clapperton, with the desk a bulwark between himself and Renny Whiteoak, said more calmly:

“A thousand dollars has been stolen from this room, sir. Do you expect me to take that lying down? Would you take it lying down?”

“what have I to do with it?”

“I thought perhaps you could help me locate it.”

“why?”

“Well, it was here when you were here and — gone when you were gone.”

Swift was looking warningly at his employer.

Renny Whiteoak exclaimed, “You are accusing me of stealing the money.”

“No — I thought you might have a suggestion to offer.”

“I have. Phone for the police. But let me tell you this — when this affair is cleared up it will be better for you to move away. And another thing — if I
were
going to make a thief of myself—it would take more than your God-damned thousand dollars to induce me.”

The day was sultry. He was very warm. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. He saw Eugene Clapperton and Sidney Swift staring at something lying on the rug — staring almost with horror. His gaze followed theirs. He saw, lying flat and crisp and terribly visible, as though a spotlight were turned on it, a new twenty-dollar bank note. He stared at it bewildered. He raised his eyes to the faces of his companions, as though seeking enlightenment from them.

“Good acting,” observed Mr. Clapperton. “Very good. Very convincing. You make me almost surprised myself. Very good acting.”

“why —” exclaimed Renny — “the thing was in my pocket!”

“Yes — so it was. So it was. How surprising!”

Renny bent forward and picked up the bank note. He turned it over and examined it. Then again he raised his dark bewildered eyes to Mr. Clapperton’s. “How did it get into my pocket?” he asked.

“Look through your pockets,” suggested Mr. Clapperton, “and perhaps you’ll find the rest of the money.”

“You think I took it!” shouted Renny.

“what else could anybody think?”

“It was put in my pocket to incriminate me.”

“By whom?”

He answered lamely, “I don’t know.” He laid the bank note on Mr. Clapperton’s desk who looked at it icily and then remarked:

“That’s one of them but where are the other forty-nine?”

Sidney Swift had been looking keenly at Renny. Now he asked, “Did you lay your jacket off after you left here, Colonel Whiteoak?”

“No. It has never been off my back.”

Now, however, he took it off, turned the pockets inside out, shook it. With it still in his hand he pulled himself together. “The money must have been put in my pocket to involve me,” he said. “There is no other explanation.”

“Do you believe,” asked Mr. Clapperton, “that that is possible?”

“I don’t see how it could have been. I went straight home from here.”

“what do you expect me to do in such a case?”

“Damned if I know.”

“what would you do if you were in my place?”

“Think the fellow — that is me — crazy.”

“That won’t bring the money back.”

Again Renny mopped his forehead with his handkerchief but now the sweat that sprang on it was cold.

“Colonel Whiteoak,” asked Swift, “have you ever had any lapses of memory?”

“Don’t start any silly talk about lapses of memory,” said Mr. Clapperton. “This either was a theft or it wasn’t.”

“Do I look like a thief?” shouted Renny. “Have my family been thieves? By God, I don’t think you’re used to associating with gentlemen.”

“That’s an outworn word, sir.”

“Not in my family.”

“I’d very much like to repeat my question,” said Swift. “I’d like to know if Colonel Whiteoak has had any previous lapses of memory.”

“
Previous
,” sneered Mr. Clapperton. “
Previous
.
This
is no lapse of memory.”

Renny ignored him. “I had several insignificant lapses of memory,” he said, “after my concussion.”

Then it came to him, with startling clearness, how that very morning he had been thinking very hard of something — he could not remember what — while he was dressing, and had found himself in the dining room without remembering having come down the stairs. The floor of the room where he now faced his accusers rocked with him — the little room where he and Maurice Vaughan had often had such jolly times together.

“I believe,” said Swift, “that this is just another of them.”

His cousin looked at him with hate. “I wish,” he said, “that you’d mind your own business.”

“I thought you’d asked me to help solve this thing.”

“I did. But I didn’t ask you to babble like an idiot.”

Renny put on his jacket. He addressed Eugene Clapperton with dignity. “I want you,” he said, “to engage a detective. Arrest me if you like. In the meantime I’m going home.” He moved, with the purposeful swiftness that characterized him, out through the french window and across the lawn.

His mind was in great confusion. He hardly knew what he was doing. The blond harvest fields that lay about him were so many blurred patches of yellow. His one clear thought was to hasten home. His one clear intention was to tell Alayne what had happened to him. Perhaps she could do something. Perhaps she could tell him whether he had shown any strange symptoms of forgetfulness since his return.

The front door was standing open. He passed through the hall and up the stairs, calling her name as he went. She answered quietly, for she was used to his sudden excitements. He found her in her room with one of Archer’s socks drawn over her hand, her darning needle poised. The look on his face startled her.

“what has happened?” she asked. “Is it Archer? Is he hurt?”

“No.” He drew a chair close and sat down by her side. “It’s I who am hurt — damaged. By God, I don’t know what is to become of me!”

“Hurt!” she repeated half angrily, for what she saw in his face looked like temper to her. “You look all right. Where are you hurt?”

“Poor girl,” he said, putting his hand on her knee, “I hate to tell you this.”

Suddenly she was frightened. She sprang up. “Tell me. What is wrong?”

“Clapperton says I stole a thousand dollars from him and I’m inclined to think I did. I’ve no recollection of it. But you’ve remarked how forgetful I am. I’d a couple of lapses of memory after my concussion. Whether he is going to have me arrested, I don’t know.”

“Do explain this more clearly,” she said, trying to swallow, for her mouth felt dry as paper. “Begin at the beginning and tell it clearly.”

“Sit down,” he said, and drew her to the side of the bed. They sat down together. He drew the child’s sock from her hand then held her hand to his lips.

“Oh, Alayne,” he exclaimed, “this is such an idiotic thing but it’s frightening too. I could almost laugh at it but it’s deadly serious.”

“
Will
you tell me what it is? what do you suppose my feelings are while you keep me in suspense?”

“I went to have a reasonable talk with Clapperton. About the village, you know. But you can’t talk reasonably with that man. We were soon having words and I thought it better to leave before I was driven to lay hands on him. I hadn’t been long at home when he rang me up to say that a pile of bank notes amounting to a thousand dollars was missing. It had been lying on his desk while we talked. He’d drawn my attention to it. Over the phone he all but openly accused me of stealing the money. He —”

“How dare he?” she interrupted, swept by anger, “The fool! How dare he?”

“Just listen, darling.” He held her hand tightly as though he were a drowning man. “Just listen to what happened next. The car was standing in the drive. I jumped into it and was facing him in no time. Lord, it was funny for a moment! He was just saying he’d like to knock my ugly red head against the wall when I walked in. He changed his tune, I can tell you. That Swift fellow was there and I must say he behaved more decently than Clapperton. As we talked I got pretty warm. I pulled out my handkerchief to mop my face and what do you suppose came out of my pocket with it?”

She just stared.

“A clean, crisp, twenty-dollar bill, obviously one of those that had been lying on his desk. It fell to the floor and we all stood glaring down at it.”

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, “not out of your pocket!”

“Oh, yes — right out of my pocket. Just like a conjuring trick.”

“Then someone put it there,” she cried fiercely.

“That’s what I said, at the first. But there was no chance of that. The jacket was never off my back. No one had been near me.”

“what happened then?”

“Clapperton was tickled pink. You can imagine my feelings. Then Swift asked me if I’d had any lapses of memory. Clapperton said, ‘Don’t start any silly talk about loss of memory — this was either a theft or it wasn’t!’”

“A theft!” cried Alayne. “what a horrible man!”

“Yes. But there I stood, looking like a thief if ever a man did.”

“what happened then?”

“I told him to put the police on the case — then I came home.”

Her eyes searched his face. A sickening fear entered her mind but she asked calmly enough, “Renny, when you look back to your first interview with him this morning, is your mind quite clear as to all that has happened since? Have you any feeling of haziness anywhere? Just go back over every moment.”

He knitted his brow. “Yes. It’s all perfectly clear.”

“why did he accuse you? Had you been alone in the room with the money?”

“Yes. He’d left in a huff. I believe he thought I was going to hit him but I’d no such intention.”

“Oh, that temper of yours!”

“I’d no thought of hitting him.”

“But you were angry?”

“Yes. He’d been throwing in my teeth how little a thousand dollars meant to him and how much to me.”

“I have begged you to stay away from him.”

“I know you have.”

“If you were angry, Renny, your mind was not quite clear.”

“My mind is never clearer than when my temper is up.”