The Golden Age

Chapter 12: The Value Of A Good Man

Bertie woke up with a fully deserved hangover. He recalled quite clearly the early part of the evening with Alice 's friend – he'd taken it upon himself to try to take her mind of the previous day's tragic events – a process that had involved a rather good dinner if he wasn't mistaken and far too many cocktails and even too much champagne if such a thing was possible. He remembered that they'd had a long talk about Alice – this Sally girl was really rather a bright thing he thought. They'd got on famously.

There was, however, something he was worried about but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It had something to do with Clegg, he was sure. Something to do with a telephone call. He decided to postpone thinking about it for a while – at least until after his head stopped hurting.

A knock on his bedroom door heralded the arrival of Jennings , his valet. Bertie's pained groan was insufficiently audible to prevent him entering with a cheerful, “Good morning, Sir,” as he flung back the curtains letting the late morning sunshine stream in. “It is still morning, Sir but only just. ‘Good', I believe is how one should refer to a day when the weather is as fine as this although I would allow some dispute on your part as a result of your current condition.”

“ Jennings ,” pleaded Bertie, “I'm just not equipped for banter at this time on the best of days. And this is most certainly not the best of days.”

“I quite understand, Sir, but I did think it was time for some breakfast.” Jennings put a tray down on his master's bedside table. Bertie cocked a blood shot eye towards the tray. Jennings ' manner might be boisterous but his choice of breakfast at least indicated an understanding of Bertie's condition. Arranged on the tray together with the customary starched white linen napkin were a large glass of still water and a small dish in which sat two aspirin and two seltzer tablets. “Shall I run your bath now, Sir?”

“Thank you, Jennings , that would be fine.”

“Very good, Sir.” Jennings paused at the doorway. “Ah yes, there was one other thing.”

Bertie looked up. He really didn't feel able to engage in much of a discussion right now. “Yes, Jennings , what is it?”

“The young lady, Sir, I just wondered what you might want doing with her.”

Bertie's memory came back in a painful flood. That was what Clegg's call had been about. He had been fairly explicit about what he wanted to happen but Bertie couldn't remember what he done about it apart from making sure Sally had had even more to drink than he had. “Oh, come on, Jennings , don't be so stuffy – this isn't the first time I've got back a bit squiffy with a girl in the back of the car.”

“In the back of the car, yes, it would not be the first time, Sir.” Jennings drew himself up to his full height and peered down at the hung-over Bertie. “In the boot of the car, however…”

Bertie gave a groan and dropped his head into his hands as he remembered the conclusion of the previous evening.

Sally's morning had started a little earlier but certainly no better. She too had woken with a headache but it seemed to be more related to a large bump on the back of her head than to any of the cocktails she had downed in Bertie's very agreeable company the might before. She fingered the lump gingerly as she sat up in a strange bed. She had no real recollection of how she had got there but that wasn't too remarkable – there had been too many nights in the last year where jitterbugging and drinking had resulted in something similar. The only good thing about this time was that at least there wasn't a snoring yahoo passed out in bed next to her.

She was still wearing the dress that she had on the night before. She got unsteadily to her feet, went to the window and looked out. The view from the third floor window looked down towards the beach – she must be in one of the sea front apartment blocks she thought. Bertie had said that he had a place there. She went to the door of the bedroom and tried to open it but it was stuck or locked. She knocked on the door and called out, “Hullo, is there any one there? Hullo?”

Nobody answered her calls but she did hear footsteps in the corridor outside and then there was the sound of a key in the lock of the door. “Hurrah,” she called out, “you heard me. Thank good – Oh!” Her delight at the door opening was cut off by an extraordinary sight. She was looking into the barrel of a service revolver. Holding it was a middle aged man with white hair, dressed in a dark tail coat.

“Good morning, miss,” the man said, “Please don't be alarmed.”

”Why on earth shouldn't I be with you pointing that gun?”

“Ah, yes I can see that might be concerning you but all will be well provided that you do as I say. It seems as though you have been caught up in one of Mr Bertram's little scrapes and as usual I will have to sort out the various loose ends.”

“Scrape? What scrape?”

“Oh, don't worry about that for now. I'm sure that all will be made clear. Now, I wonder if you could oblige me by lying down on the bed.” He waved the pistol. Sally started and brought her hands up to her mouth.

“Ah, sorry Miss, you don't need to be concerned over any funny business. I just need to make sure you're quite comfortable until Mr Bertram is fully himself – last night's drinks do seem to have taken their toll and I fear it will be a little while before he can join us. So if you could just sit back against the bed head…” He gestured with the barrel of the gun.

Sally did as he indicated. “Thank you very much, Miss,” he said, “and if you could just let me have your stockings.” Sally looked askance but the man just waved the gun impatiently. She turned her back on him and unfastened the suspenders as modestly as she could. “Now stretch out your arms to either side.” Again she did as she was told and then watched as he picked up two neck ties and tied her wrists to the uprights of the bed head. “I'm sorry to have to use Mr Bertram's ties for this, They are rather fine but I'm sure he will understand the necessity.”

Sally's assailant picked up one of the stockings and knotted it, figure of eight fashion around her ankles. Then he took the other. “I was reading that book of yours, ‘The Strange Affair at Gates'. I hope you don't mind but I do think Miss Crystal writes a splendid yarn,” he said. “I didn't expect to be able to pick up tips though. Had you read the bit where the detective – the golfer – gets too close to the killer and is left bound and gagged? The killer uses one of her golf balls in a stocking – I think that would be most effective. Why don't we see?” He picked up a golf ball from the chest of drawers beside the bed. “This was the ball Mr Bertram used to win last month's Captain's Medal – still it's in a good cause.”

Sally scowled at him as he knotted the stocking about half way along, dropped the golf ball inside and then knotted the stocking again above the ball. “That should do it,” he said. “Now as your dentist would ask, open wide.” Sally tried to resist as he pushed the ball between her teeth and into her mouth but without effect. “Now, one further refinement should discourage you from too much moving around.”

Sally gave a strangled, “Gaaak.” as he first of all jerked the stocking tight and knotted it behind her head but then went on to tie the loose ends of the stocking to the bed head rail.

“Do try not to move around too much, my dear,” her captor said as he saw her struggling. “I fear you will only succeed in making your wrists sore. I don't think you will get loose - if so I fear my days in the Navy will have proved to have been of little value.” Sally continued to try to dislodge the knotted ties and the gag.

It was an hour later when Bertie emerged from the worst of his hangover, courtesy of Jennings ' medicinal breakfast. Together with Jennings he made his way to the guest room where Sally was still struggling, unsuccessfully, with her bonds. She scowled as the two men came in.

“Ah, sorry about this old girl,” Bertie started apologetically. “Friend of mine is really keen to have a chat with you and Jennings here was worried you might wander off before he had a chance to get over here. Common problem for me, I'm afraid – waking up in the morning finding the girlfriend's missing. Can't think why.” Bertie looked at how the girl had been tied on the bed. “I say, Jennings , you could have found something else couldn't you, I was a bit fond of those neckers you know.”

“I do understand Sir, I'm most sorry but I thought you would understand given the rather - ah – urgent and unusual nature of proceedings.”

“That's all right, Jennings . Just glad you didn't use the old cricket club tie – chaps down there got no time for women – shouldn't think they'd like the idea at all. Won't have them in the pavilion at all now, you know. Last year, young filly, turned up using a club tie as a hat band. Never heard such a row! Howled off the veranda she was.”

Jennings interrupted. “Sorry to be a trial, Sir, but Mr Clegg phoned earlier to explain. He thought you might not be quite yourself this morning and asked if I could help. He sends his apologies but shan't be able to get over today. He had to take the seaplane over to France and suggested that we might all like to join him. Miss Elspeth, I think it is, has to fly out this afternoon with some spare parts; some trouble with the engine apparently. She's taking the Rapide, I think he said, and there'll be plenty of room for us all. Of course both the cars are only two seaters but the Bentley is a bit larger and I'm sure you won't mind riding in the back just as far as the airfield will you, Miss? Oh yes, and another thing, Miss, I arranged to have you checked out of the hotel. I'm afraid they think you've gone back to London but I don't imagine that will be too much of a problem.”

“Well done, Jennings , you seem to have thought of everything as usual. My head's feeling better all ready. A jaunt across the channel sounds like an excellent idea. Pack a bag will you. I assume you've had Sally's bags collected already?”

“Indeed, Sir, indeed.” Jennings grinned smugly. “Although I understand from Mr Clegg that they won't really be needed.”