Chapter 18

By the time I handed in the tray at the kitchen, there was more information on the TV news. By now, other cardboard boxes stuffed with bubble-wrap had been opened to reveal more artefacts, to the delight of the museum. As each item was revealed, it was laid on a foam mat on a cloth-covered folding table that had been hurriedly obtained. It was then quickly photographed, before being carried into the British Museum in triumph by a member of staff.

I snorted at these antics, to the dismay of Mrs Hargreaves. “Jeeves, do not be so churlish. The BM are finding treasures: be happy for them.”

“Chef, I am not being churlish. I am merely saddened at how ancient artefacts are arriving: dumped on their doorstep in a white van. Even the van seems to be ancient. So where is the provenance for such objects? The museums go on about provenance, yet here they are welcoming a mysterious collection from nowhere, produced out of an old van. How does one equate that with their insistence on provenance for everyone else who produces objects.?”

Chef ceased her complaint, and looked more closely at the scene on the screen. I did, too, when an angular sphinx appeared for photographing. I recognised it and its dog face with long pointed ears. I had photographed it very recently, in the vault.

Good grief! If one of these objects had ended up in that van, possibly the others were there as well. What is Dawes going to say about this? Well, I am not going to volunteer the information to him. I will just pretend I didn’t see it.

Fortunately, with it being evening, I had no justification for encountering him, so I went on with the silver polishing. Noticing my shoes were not as they should be, I scheduled shoe polishing next. The evening remained quiet for me.

Next morning, as I laid the table for breakfast, watched assiduously by Jennifer, there came a shout from the lift shaft. “Jeeves!”

I motioned to Jennifer to take over, and rushed to attend Mr. Dawes, who was coming out of the lift. “Yes, sir?”

“Jeeves, will nothing go right for me?”

“Sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”

“That van outside the British Museum yesterday: it turns out that it was MY collection of Egyptian artefacts that was in the van.”

“Is that not a good thing, sir, that they have found your missing items?”

“At first I thought so, but when I rang them today, they insisted that they were stolen property that had to be returned.”

“Yes, sir. Surely that was so? They were stolen from you and so must be returned.” I put on my most puzzled visage as I spoke.

“No, Jeeves. They said that they had been stolen from a museum in Cairo, many years ago, so must be returned to Cairo.”

“Oh,” I sighed. “That does put a different slant on things. No wonder you got them cheap, without proper provenance.”

“Exactly. I was had, Jeeves. My enquiries have revealed that the chap who sold them to me has left the country, and is now untraceable. I can use my contacts to search for him, but the chances of recover my outlay are pretty slim.”

“That is rather unfortunate, sir.”

“It is perhaps fortunate that Miss Frobisher is leaving, Jeeves, with money being tight in this household. It may be a considerable time before she sees her payoff deal.”

“Oh, dear. Does that mean, sir, that Jeeves and Company may have difficulty being paid for my continued service?”

“I hope my cash shortage will be temporary, Jeeves. I am expecting some recompense from the bank’s insurers before long.”

“I am pleased to hear that, sir. With finance being tight, is it still acceptable to use the car to deliver Miss Frobisher to her brother’s home in Wimbledon?”

“Yes, that is not an immediate problem, Jeeves. The car was a gift from Mrs Dawes first husband, in the form of a long term lease, with a new car every three years and part of the gift was discounted fuel at my usual filling station. Makes things a little easier, eh, Jeeves.”

“I am gratified to hear that, sir. It is rather nice to have such generous friends.”

“Oh, he was never a friend. My wife’s first husband, and father of the boys, was a bit of a crook, but a successful one, apparently. As he was flush at the time of the divorce, the settlement included the provision of a car to his ex-wife, for as long as she wished it to continue. His garage replaces it every three years like clockwork. Mrs Dawes regards it as payment for producing the two boys, Walter and Fred. I get the joy of paying for their education!”

He gave a hollow laugh at the thought. I steered him back to the present.

“If I may mention, sir, breakfast will be cooling ... The steamed fish in particular.”

He recovered his poise. “We shouldn’t miss chef’s cooking, Jeeves, should we?”

“That is so, sir. Allow me to escort you to the table, and I can serve you a portion of Mrs Hargreaves’ delicious steamed haddock.”

“Thank you, Jeeves. Courteous as ever.”

“It is my job, sir.” I confirmed. “One which I am happy to perform.”

I seated Mr. Dawes at the table, where the other family members were waiting for him. They immediately set to the food in front of them. I noticed Miss Catherine glaring at me for causing her father to be delayed, and stopping the rest from starting breakfast. I returned her stare with a bland look. I got a tongue out in return, which I ignored. Her parents were busy eating, and missed this silent warfare.

Finally, who should sweep in but Miss Frobisher? She came to her chair, and I seated her as if this was a normal day, instead of her departure day. Catherine welcomed her with “Good morning, Miss Frobisher!” and got a pleasant, if somewhat forced smile in response.

Breakfast was uncharacteristically quiet, as everyone knew this was Miss Frobisher’s last day in the house. I made a point, as I laid her fish in front of her, to say, “Will you be having lunch here, Miss Frobisher, or in your room?”

“My room is looking a bit empty now, Jeeves, so I will avail myself of the dining room, if that is all right with Mr. Dawes?” She looked in his direction, and he imperceptibly nodded his head.

“Very good, Ma’am. I shall lay the table accordingly.”

Shortly after breakfast there came a telephone call for Mr. Dawes, and he took it in his study. After a while, he buzzed for me, and when I appeared, he announced, “Jeeves, a policeman will be calling to interview me shortly. Show him to my study, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Twenty minutes later, Jones called me. “The rozzers are back at the gate, Jeeves. For you again?”

“No, for Mr. Dawes this time, Mr. Jones. Please allow them in.”

I opened the door when they rang, and unsurprisingly admitted sergeant Blenkinsop. “Why sergeant, this is an unexpected pleasure! I understand Mr Dawes is your excuse for coffee today?”

He smiled in approval, and I continued, “If coffee is possible, it shall be so, sergeant.” I escorted him to the study door and rapped on it before opening. “Sergeant Blenkinsop for you, Mr. Dawes. Shall I produce coffee, sir?”

“Yes, let’s be sociable, Jeeves.” Dawes agreed. I went off to attend to that, closing the door behind me.

When I got back eight minutes later, I knocked and managed to open the door with one hand while balancing the coffee tray with the other. It is quite an art; I can tell you!

“Coffee, sir.”

“Please serve, Jeeves. Sergeant Blenkinsop was asking about my collection of artefacts that were stolen recently. It appears that when I purchased the collection, it was actually stolen property.”

“Oh, dear, sir. How unfortunate. You purchased the items in good faith. You were not to know that the seller was cheating you.”

“That is exactly what I was telling the good sergeant. I was the victim of a fraud, and the thieves at the vault stole the goods that I was carefully guarding for posterity.”

“Indeed, sir. You had me photograph them, to get them insured. If you knew it was stolen property, that would not have been possible.”

“As I said, Jeeves. I was the victim. I was asking if the police knew who had dumped the goods in that van. They don’t know, it seems; do you, sergeant?”

“No-one does, sir. It is perplexing. It is as if the thieves had discovered the fact that the collection was stolen property, and were getting rid of the items in a rather cumbersome way. It is unlike any thief I have known.”

Dawes declared, “Cumbersome and very public, sergeant. It is almost as if they wanted the goods returned to Egypt. Why didn’t they offer them to me, first, while I was still unaware of their current illegal state?”

The sergeant mused, “It is indeed a puzzle, sir. Either they were afraid you might recognise them as former acquaintances, or it was a way of telling you that you were not getting them back. Either way, you were being got at in some undetermined way. You cannot think of anyone who wished harm towards you, sir?”

“It cannot be the seller, sergeant, because my enquiries have told me that he has fled the country to parts unknown, to avoid my wrath. Clearly he had anticipated that I would be unhappy at being duped. Other than that, I don’t think I have any enemies at all.”

“Well, if you do have ideas along that line, Mr. Dawes, be sure to let me know, and I will pass on that information to the relevant personnel.”

Dawes accepted the challenge. “I will do just that, sergeant. Well, I am sure you have other people to see in this enquiry, so I shall ask Jeeves to see you out.”

“Thank you for the coffee, sir. It was delicious.”

“We like to use the best, sergeant,” He looked over at me, adding, “Including staff.”

He stood up, as did the policeman, and I proceeded to escort the sergeant to the door. I murmured, “Glad you enjoyed the coffee, sergeant.”

“Thank you once again, Mr. Jeeves.”

And he was gone, back to his car.

I heard footsteps behind me, and turned to find Dawes standing in the reception hall, pondering. He looked towards me and said, “Peculiar, I thought. Comments, Jeeves?”

“A local police sergeant to make enquiries in a prominent case? Very peculiar, sir. I suspect it was an initial prod at you, to see what you would do or say. One might suggest that you were being viewed as being part of a criminal fraternity, sir. Preposterous, of course.”