Gay Phoenix by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page B

pleasantly. ‘My name isn’t Arthur. You’ve mistaken me for somebody else. And rather impulsively, I’d say, since you could see nothing but the back of my head.’
    ‘But that’s just it, Master Arthur!’ Unexpectedly, yet with an odd effect of the rolling back of the years, this depressed menial person flashed at his former employer’s younger son a momentary wicked grin. ‘It’s the way the hair grows on the crown of your head. Up and forward-like – and I remembered it at once. I could always tell you from Mr Charles at a glance, that way on. Very rare it is – hair growing that way. At least among the gentry. Almost a plebeian note, it might be called.’
    ‘My good man, you are talking nonsense.’ This time, Arthur Povey spoke with a justified frigidity. ‘I advise you to go about your business. Do so, and think no more of the matter. I should be most reluctant to lodge a complaint.’
    ‘I’m sure you won’t do that, sir. It wasn’t your style, anything of that sort.’ Butter showed no sign of budging. ‘And quite thick we were, in an earlier time.’
    There was a moment’s silence. Povey, who had a martini in front of him, allowed himself an unhurried sip. But his mind wasn’t equally leisured, since the situation was developing in a manner that made rapid thinking necessary. It was perfectly true about his hair. The point, although extremely trivial, was one he ought to have attended to. What ought he to do now? The discreet thing would be to have one more shot at simply shaking Butter off.
    ‘I’ve no doubt you’ve made an honest mistake,’ he said, with a return to a benevolent manner. ‘Quite an amusing mistake, really. All that about hair, and so on.’ He finished his drink, and then pointed to the empty glass. ‘Just ask them to bring me another of those, will you?’ He put his hand in a pocket. ‘And here’s for your trouble.’
    Butter picked up the glass obediently, and accepted the coin. But he stayed put, with that wicked grin on his face again.
    ‘The name’s Butter,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t recall it, sir?’
    What Povey recalled was that Butter was a man of guile. At any moment he might manoeuvre his adversary into a false position. Blank denials, if they had later to be retracted, might prove very awkward indeed.
    ‘Butter?’ Povey repeated. ‘Not so common as Butterfield or Butterworth. But I may well have come across the name.’
    ‘And your own name, sir. It wouldn’t be Povey?’
    This had been a masterly pounce. Blankly to deny one’s true name on challenge seemed a more drastic deception than simply registering in a hotel under a false one. Or so, whether logically or not, it seemed to Arthur Povey now. The result was a moment’s hesitation; and this, in turn, had the effect of somehow giving the game away. He saw that he must fall back on what might be called his second line of defence.
    ‘Yes, it is,’ he said briskly. ‘I’m here incognito, if you know what that means. But my name is certainly Povey. And your own, for that matter, does now come back to me. You had a job at Brockholes as a lad, hadn’t you? And we did get on together quite well. Only you’ve got your Povey boys sadly muddled, I must say. Perhaps it’s not surprising after all those years.’ As he said this, Povey put both his hands on the little table in front of him and drummed on it gently. ‘I’m Charles Povey, not Arthur.’
    ‘Charles Povey?’ Butter repeated the name slowly. It was as if he had been taken aback and was playing for time.
    ‘Your employer’s elder son, not his younger one. I suppose you remember that ? My brother Arthur is dead, Butter. He lost his life at sea.’
    ‘I remember Master Charles, all right. And I’ve heard a bit about him since. Became uncommonly wealthy, they say.’
    ‘Not all that wealthy, Butter. But certainly I’m quite prosperous as business people go.’ Povey managed an unconstrained smile. ‘At least I can run to this