James the Conniosseur Cat Read online

  Instantly alert, James watched the firelight glinting on the precious metal. The scratching continued. From underneath the skirt of a small side chair against the wall next to the fireplace, a furry gray form appeared. Two black, beady eyes looked furtively around. Then their owner, a rat, scurried up to the footstool, scrambled up on it, picked up the bell, and scurried back under the chair. James was fascinated. The process was repeated, but this time the rat carried off the little dish.

  James considered. He left his hiding place under the drapes and began to shove against the chair. It was light and moved easily. Behind it, James found a sizable hole in the molding at floor level. He examined the paneling carefully, and then, satisfied with what he saw, jumped on the chair, and from there to the stone mantelpiece, and crouching on the ledge of the mantel, he examined the carving of flowers and leaves that supported the mantel ledge. After only a brief examination, he hit one of the flowers sharply with his paw. There was a creaking sound, and a section of the paneling next to the fireplace opened about a foot.

  James jumped down and entered the opening. From the firelight in the room, he could see he was in a space large enough for a man to hide in. In one corner of this space was a rat’s nest. The rat had disappeared at the sound of the panel’s opening. In the nest were a number of objects. The bell, the dish, a pair of diamond earrings, and three teaspoons.

  James touched nothing, but smiled to himself and returned to the drawing room, jumped up on the mantel, and patted the flower, causing the panel to close. Then he slipped out of the drawing room and stopped by the library, where he found the delicious remains of a tea that offered sardines, liver sausage, and Laphroaig, all apparently left over from Lord Henry’s tea, but really arranged for James. After tea, James curled up under the desk for the night.

  Next morning he was up with the dawn and sitting in the drawing room. Lying on the hearth was a sardine that he had carefully saved from tea the day before. As expected, the rat appeared shortly, lured by the sardine. Swiftly and surely, James struck, and a dead rat lay at his feet. James, who doesn’t relish rat, laid its body beside the chair, where it was safely hidden. In no time he had opened the panel, brought out the bell, dish, earrings, and three spoons, and arranged them next to the rat. Then he closed the panel again, and pushed the little chair over the display. No sooner was he finished than he heard a noise in the hall and hid behind the drapes.

  Etheria entered the drawing room in a rage. She looked on the footstool, then all over the room, on the tops of tables and in the sofa. She could not find what she wanted and stormed out in a rage, not bothering to close the door behind her.

  Sounds of turmoil could be heard throughout the house. The uproar grew fainter as she made her way to the kitchen, and James was about to explore further when Lord Henry and Helena appeared. They stood very close together, looking out the very window where James was concealed in the drapery.

  “I had to come,” she said. “I have changed my mind. As you know, I’ve been spending a lot of time by myself lately, trying to solve our problems. I find there is only one solution. I love you and I will marry you, and if Etheria makes a fuss, we will have to live through it. I care about you, and if she wants Haverstock Hall and all the things in it, let her have it all.”

  She said this all in a rush, and then stood looking vulnerable.

  Lord Henry beamed and grabbed her around her waist, and she bent her head to receive his resounding kiss. Then they wandered hand in hand around the room until the uproar returned to the drawing room with Etheria in the lead and Wilson and an underfootman in tow. The underfootman looked very angry, and Wilson did not look happy.

  “Henry,” Etheria cried, pointing at the footman, “this man is a thief. I want him arrested immediately.” She stopped to notice Helena.

  “Wait in the hall,” she commanded. “We have a domestic crisis here.”

  Lord Henry looked sternly at his sister.

  “Etheria, sit down!” he said firmly. He installed Helena in a chair across the room and stood on the hearth. It gave him a little height.

  “Now, Wilson, what does this seem to be about?” he asked.

  Etheria leaped from her chair. “Sit down, Etheria, you can have your say as soon as I have heard from Wilson.”

  Etheria, nonplussed by Lord Henry’s firmness, sat.

  “Lady Etheria reported to me this morning that the bell was missing, as well as a part of something called the ceremonial piece,” Wilson replied. “I note that the bell is not in its usual place, so it may be missing. I have to report that three teaspoons from our commonly used set are also missing. They are not valuable, but the bell, of course, is. Very.”

  “It certainly is priceless,” said Etheria, jumping up, “and this footman was out last evening, hiding it somewhere.”

  “I didn’t take anything!” said the footman, who was very angry. “I don’t know what her ladyship is talking about.”

  “Well,” Etheria said, shifting her ground. “Perhaps she took it. How do we know how long she’s been hanging around!” and she looked directly at Helena.

  Lord Henry was now very angry.

  “Etheria,” he said, “apologize to the future Lady Haverstock immediately. You must be out of your head to make such an accusation. If need be, I shall call Inspector Home of Scotland Yard to investigate, and you shall return to Scotland immediately he does not need you. This is my home, and I will conduct its affairs as I see fit.”

  “You are incompetent!” Etheria shouted. “You have no sense of possession. You’ve let the ceremonial piece get away, and now the Elizabethan bell is gone. I’ll sue.”

  Since all the parties to this wrangle were occupied with their own anger, none of them noticed when a side chair began to move, revealing a tableau that included a dead rat, a pair of diamond earrings, three spoons, a gold and ruby bell, and a vermeil salt dish.

  James then trotted over to Lord Henry and patted his leg.

  “James!” cried Helena in delight.

  “Gaaack … ugh,” gargled Etheria.

  Lord Henry looked down inquiringly.

  James pointed to the tableau on the floor. Helena, who had jumped up when she saw James, knelt down at the display.

  “A rat!” she exclaimed. “There is your culprit. Wilson, here are your spoons, and Etheria, your bell.” Helena handed out the objects. “Here is a pair of diamond earrings. They look very valuable to me. I wonder who owns them?”

  Etheria grabbed them. Her face was very flushed. “They’re mine,” she said in a strangled voice. “I must have left them here on that footstool at Christmas. They hurt, you know.”

  “I remember,” Lord Henry said firmly. “You accused your maid of stealing them.”

  “Good riddance, she left the next week anyway!” said Etheria.

  “And what is this strange dish?” Helena asked, holding the object in her hands.

  “It is one of the pieces of the ceremonial centerpiece,” said Etheria. “I found it on the stairs where I thought this fellow had dropped it.” She glared at the footman.

  Lord Henry ignored Etheria and turned to the footman. “My sincere apologies, Jensen.” He said. “Regardless of the statements of my sister, I did not think for a minute that you had stolen anything. I am only deeply sorry that you have been subjected to this ugly scene.”

  Jensen smiled and nodded.

  “Wilson,” Lord Henry continued, “let’s clear up this rat. I wonder where it came from, anyway?”

  James hopped to the chair, and from there to the mantel, where he patted the flower to open the panel.

  “The priest hole!” Lord Henry exclaimed. “I’d been told about it, but I had no idea where it was. James, you are clever.”

  Lord Henry instructed Wilson to clean out the rat’s nest and have the molding repaired, and was about to go off with Helena to the stables for a ride, when James let out a sharp cough.

  “Yes, James?” Said Lord Henry.

  James
beckoned to the group and headed up the stairs. Of course, they all followed. Lord Henry and Helena led the way; Etheria, dying of curiosity, followed, even though she could not bear to be near “that cat.” Wilson and Jensen brought up the rear.

  Up the stairs, down the hall, past the nursery to the attic door, and up the attic stairs they went.

  “Wilson, some flashlights,” called Lord Henry.

  In a very short time the group was crowded into the attic, now illuminated with flashlights, and out of the cupboard at the back came object after object, wrapped in gray flannel bags.

  Now the troupe returned to the dining room in reverse, Wilson and Jensen in the lead with some large objects, and Etheria, Helena, and Lord Henry with small ones.

  Once in the great dining hall, chairs were moved away from the table so that Wilson and Jensen could work. Wrappings were removed, and at last the ceremonial piece was revealed in all its grandeur.

  In the center of the table was an allegorical group consisting of a Scottish warrior and an English warrior standing side by side. Immediately behind and above them, a bosomy woman in flowing draperies held a laurel wreath over the head of each warrior. Between them was a shield inscribed with the words “Made for Etheria, Lady Haverstock, William Revere, 1720.” Backing up the warriors and facing in the opposite direction were four young girls draped with garlands of thistles and roses and little else, labeled “Courage,” “Valor,” “Truth,” and “Honor.” The whole of this company stood on what appeared to be some craggy rocks on a base engirdled with garlands of thistles and roses.

  This astonishing piece stood about three feet high and was nearly six feet long. The bottom was heavily felted. It was made of silver, and the uniforms of the warriors were rendered in blazing enameled colors that were particularly effective on the plaid of the Scotsman. The roses were pink and the thistles purple, with green leaves all around. Here and there were touches of gilding.

  In addition to the centerpiece there were two large candelabra, each of which could hold five candles. One was a rose tree, and the other, of course, was a giant thistle.

  In addition to all this splendor, there were twelve salt dishes, six with beautiful maidens and six with youthful males. There was also a large leather box with place-card holders and other supplementary pieces of table gear, all in the same exuberant spirit.

  Etheria clasped her hands and sighed. “Isn’t it wonderful!” she breathed. “It is absolutely glorious, England and Scotland wedded forever!”

  Lord Henry was overcome with a fit of coughing, and Helena, apparently overcome with emotion, stood looking out the dining room windows, her shoulders shaking. James hopped on the table and tapped a salt dish, which rolled along happily on its ball bearings.

  Lord Henry said a few whispered words to Helena, and she nodded her head. Then he turned to his sister.

  “Etheria,” he said, “would you like to have this arrangement as a wedding present?”

  “Are you serious?” Etheria asked, unable to credit her hearing. “Would you give it up?”

  “Helena and I think it belongs at Reever’s Roost with you and Baggy. Take it as a wedding present, with our blessing.”

  “Please,” said Helena who had recovered her composure. “I feel it belongs with the eldest Haverstock, and just because you happen to be a woman is no reason you should be deprived of something you clearly love. We can come and see it any time we want.”

  “I’m sure that is very gracious of you,” Etheria said ungraciously. She turned to Wilson. “Pack it carefully, and I’ll take it tomorrow.” Then she turned back to Lord Henry and said, “I guess if you are going to marry her, you will be staying on here after all.”

  “Yes. I think we will,” said Lord Henry.

  “Will you want Cook?” Etheria asked, ever hopeful.

  Helena started to say something, and Lord Henry stopped her.

  James looked up apprehensively.

  “We will want Cook,” Lord Henry said firmly. James let out a sigh of relief, and Wilson smiled a broad smile.

  “Very well.” said Etheria. “I’ll go and pack, and perhaps Weatherby can drive me home in the station wagon with the piece.”

  “Certainly,” said Lord Henry.

  And so, that afternoon, Etheria went off to tea at the Marchioness’s place after arranging to return to Reever’s Roost the next day with her earrings and the ceremonial piece.

  Helena, Lord Henry, and James sat in the library in front of the fire, ate Cook’s best tea, and giggled the afternoon away.

  At last James, his detective assignment complete, fell asleep exhausted, and Lord Henry and Helena went happily about their own business.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was time to return to London. Jensen, trying desperately to suppress a grin, loaded the station wagon. Wilson, his eyes twinkling, supervised. James jumped into the car, and finally Helena and Lord Henry came out hand in hand.

  “Good-bye for now, Lady Haverstock,” said Wilson.

  “Still Helena Haakon,” Helena laughed. “But not for long.”

  Weatherby, whistling happily, drove to London, where James was deposited at Baron’s Chambers, Helena at her flat, and Lord Henry at his club.

  For the next weeks, life took on a special excitement. A wedding was coming up. The band of friends met often in my flat for conferences and cups of tea or drams of whiskey, whichever was preferred. During the day, James went about his usual business at Baron’s or Thwaite’s.

  One afternoon, Peter Hightower dropped in for a wee drop and reported on some old business. It seems that Mr. Poachway, whose real name was Mohammed Rafik Nasser, was still operating the Temple of Bastet. He had replaced James with a photo mural of a big gray cat, and during services from time to time he told the story of the manifestation of Bastet that came, uninvited, to bless this particular temple with his/her presence for a brief time. Those communicants who had actually seen James at the temple could, and often did, corroborate the truth of this assertion. So the temple prospered and James the God was not forgotten.

  Inspector Home sent his regards through a note to Peter but actually meant for James. It recounted the fate of the stamp thief, who had been sent to prison along with his confederate, a maid in the collector’s household. The collector had been shaken by the events, and now kept his collection in safety deposit boxes in a bank.

  “Your influence has spread far and wide,” said Peter, stroking James, who was sitting on his lap with his eyes closed.

  “Now bring me up to date on the wedding of the century,” said Peter, turning to Helena.

  “Well, complications have arisen,” Helena said. “We are not only going to have a wedding, but a midsummer celebration, church fête, and village fair, all at the same time.”

  “Bloody Bruce!” exclaimed Baggy, who, in his capacity as best man, often dropped in of an afternoon. “How did you get into all that?”

  “We set the date for Sunday, June twenty-fourth,” said Helena. “The vicar agreed. We planned a simple four-o’clock wedding with a reception to follow at the hall, and then Fiona called me to say that the Women’s Exchange had planned a summer festival to raise money, and at the same time to help revive old customs. The only weekend possible was that of the twenty-third.”

  “Henry and I agreed that there should be no conflict, as the wedding would not be until Sunday and the church would not be required for the fête, competition, and cultural program, all of which would take place on the village common.”

  “I would gladly have changed the date, except that the invitations were all engraved. However, it seems there was more to it than just a slight conflict. Fiona wanted Henry and me to appear, sit on a dais, give out the prizes, and watch the Morris and maypole dancers. She said it would add a marvelous note to the proceedings.”

  “I was ready to say no,” said Lord Henry, “but then, when I saw how sad Fiona looked at the prospect, and I thought how mad it would make Etheria to think of our associating
ourselves with local village life, and when Helena said she thought it would be fun—I changed my mind and agreed.”

  “I think it should be a treat,” said Peter. “Some of the wedding guests will be there to add their huzzahs to those of the local residents, not to mention their money to the coffers of the sale. Besides, I haven’t seen Morris dancing in years.”

  James opened his eyes and tapped Peter on the arm in a fidgety way.

  “What’s Morris dancing?” Baggy asked.

  James nodded as if to reinforce Baggy’s question.

  “Well,” said Peter, font of all knowledge, “as I understand it, Morris dancing was brought from Spain, some say by John of Gaunt. It involved some five or six men and originally a boy dressed as a girl. On their legs the men wore bells that were tuned to add to the music, and later some elements of the Robin Hood story were added, so that the girl became Maid Marian and the leader of the dancers became Robin Hood. The whole thing was abolished with the arrival of Cromwell and the Puritans. However, there seems to be some sort of revival going on.”

  “That seems to be what it is all about,” said Lord Henry. “In addition, Fiona, who isn’t too accurate historically about all this, wants to have a maypole dance to climax the proceedings.”

  “I think it will be splendid, and add to the festivity of the day,” said Helena, smiling. “Of course, if it rains, the whole thing will be postponed for a week. Not the wedding, of course—just the fête, the fair, and the cultural event.”

  That evening, Lord Henry and Helena went off for dinner together. Peter, James, and I went to Frank’s for dinner, and after a substantial meal of linguine and clam sauce, James practiced his idea of Morris dance steps on the table.

  Peter and I were in a reminiscent mood, particularly because I would have to leave London right after the wedding. My assignments for the year were finished.

  So we sat over our coffee and talked of all the events of the past few months until James could no longer think of new dance steps and insisted we go home.