A Night of Errors by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

dinner?’
    ‘Why, yes, sir. By the time you arrive there I venture to think they’ll be taking their coffee.’
    ‘Good.’ Geoffrey Gollifer turned to the door. Then he hesitated. ‘Sir Oliver not back there yet, I suppose?’
    ‘I couldn’t positively say, Mr Geoffrey. But, come to think of it, it seems very likely, sir. He has been in expectation for some time. There has been quite a mystery, if I may say so, sir.’
    ‘Mystery, Martin? Tommyrot. Lot of country gossip, I suppose.’
    ‘As you say, sir. But I do think he may be back, and this little dinner a celebrating of the fact. Not that the mistress mentioned anything of that kind, Mr Geoffrey.’
    ‘I see.’ Geoffrey Gollifer did not sound particularly pleased. ‘Well, I think I’ll just telephone across and ask where the passports are kept. It will save time. Just see if you can get Sherris on the line.’
    ‘Very good, Mr Geoffrey.’
    But Sherris for some reason was unobtainable. And Geoffrey frowned irresolutely. ‘Dash it all,’ he said, ‘where are such things kept? Would my mother lock them up?’
    Martin, perhaps because his mumblings to the girl on the local exchange had been ineffective and half-hearted, was eager to help. ‘Very probably your passport would be in Mrs Gollifer’s bureau, sir. I believe that one or two of the drawers are kept locked, but as likely as not the document would not be in one of those.’
    ‘Very well, I’ll have a look. I don’t suppose my mother will mind. Just come along, Martin, and lend me a hand.’
    The bureau was ancient and capacious, and for some time Geoffrey rummaged in vain, Martin making ineffective fumbling motions beside him. ‘Dash it all, Martin,’ he said irritably, ‘don’t you think you could get through on the telephone, after all? We might be a couple of burglars.’
    ‘Well, sir–’
    ‘And now this drawer is stuck. Damn!’ The drawer at which Geoffrey was tugging had flown open with a splintering crash. ‘It must have been locked after all.’
    ‘Yes, sir. The piece is an old one and the woodwork must have been unsound.’ Martin was respectfully malicious. ‘Mrs Gollifer has always been particularly attached to this bureau.’
    ‘And here I am behaving like a bull in a china-shop.’ Irritably and rather shamefacedly, Geoffrey Gollifer was flicking over papers in the drawer. Suddenly his hand stayed itself and turned a couple of papers slowly. ‘Martin,’ he said, and his voice had sharpened unaccountably, ‘go and fetch me a brandy and soda.’
    ‘Very good, Mr Geoffrey.’
    ‘But first, just find Thomas and ask him to make sure that there is plenty of petrol in my car.’
    It was nearly ten minutes before Martin returned. The bureau was closed. Geoffrey Gollifer was standing by the window, looking out into the gathering dusk. His passport was in his hand. ‘I found it,’ he said.
    ‘I’m glad to hear it, sir.’ Martin, as he set down his tray, glanced at his employer’s son in some surprise. Mr Geoffrey, it seemed to him, had spoken with altogether disproportionate emphasis.
    ‘Yes, I found it. I had a notion it was there – quite dimly. And – by Jove! – it was… You say Sir Oliver is probably at Sherris?’
    ‘I believe he may be, sir.’
    ‘Well, I suppose I had better be off.’ And Geoffrey Gollifer drained his glass. ‘By the way, Martin, where have they put those army things of mine?’
    ‘In your old dressing-room, sir. I put them carefully away myself.’
    ‘Good. I’ll just run up and get something.’
    Geoffrey strode to the door. Martin followed. ‘Can I be of any help to you, sir?’
    ‘No, thank you, Martin. I’m pretty sure I don’t need any help.’
    And Geoffrey Gollifer went off upstairs. In the old way, Martin thought – with a sort of jump at the bottom and then two steps at a time. And Martin shook his head doubtfully. He was getting on, he knew, and the mistress was already hinting at a pension. But was it so bad that he