The Daffodil Affair

The Daffodil Affair by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

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Authors: Michael Innes
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could scarcely be more thoroughly out of joint. And so if the witches and the half-witted horses are arriving now there is likely to be some particular premium about their doing so… Appleby was groping round this obscure conception when the train ran into Harrogate.
    There is a pleasing element of the unknown in the approach to big hotels. They may contain an exiled court, the ghostly counterpart of a government department, a great London school, or even a thousand or so people busy making things. But Appleby found only what such an establishment normally holds out, and presently he was wandering across the Stray, somewhat at a loss. He must present himself to the local police and tactfully explain that he was the consequence of humouring earls’ daughters who inappropriately demanded the services of Scotland Yard. After that he was committed to visiting this exigent lady herself, and after that again would come the tiresome business of duplicating inquiries which had doubtless already been made in a thoroughly efficient way. Finally, he could not leave Harrogate without paying a duty visit to his aunt, a person of pronounced character and intimidating early associations.
    But this was his mission only in its original or diplomatic aspect. Unless – as was, after all, likely enough – the horse of Miss Metcalfe’s caravan was distinct from the horse of Bodfish’s open landau – unless this was so the case had taken to itself a certain body, a marked beguilement, in a wholly unexpected direction. Meditating this, Appleby decided to postpone the business of introductions until he had sought enlightenment on this prior point. So he consulted a notebook and made his way to the livery stables from which Daffodil had been stolen.
    The stables belonged – with the sort of muted absurdity which went with this whole business, Appleby felt – to a Mr Gee; and Mr Gee, an elderly man of cheerful appearance, was discovered in the middle of a yard, contemplating a sleepy dog with an air of the greatest benevolence.
    ‘A nice dog,’ Appleby said.
    Still benevolent, Mr Gee swung round. ‘Dish-faced,’ he said in a voice of unfathomable gloom.
    ‘Ah,’ said Appleby, rather at a loss.
    ‘And undershot,’ Mr Gee preserved his highly deceptive appearance. ‘Pig-jawed, in fact.’
    ‘Well, yes – I suppose he is, a little.’
    ‘She.’
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘Cow-hocked. No feather. Apple-headed. Pily.’
    ‘Pily? I suppose she is. But still–’
    ‘Pily is the only good thing about her. Apple-headed. No feather. Cow-headed. Pig-jawed. What do you think of the stifles?’
    ‘I’m afraid,’ Appleby said modestly, ‘I don’t know anything about dogs.’
    ‘I’m afraid you don’t,’ said Mr Gee gloomily. He continued to radiate the appearance of good cheer.
    ‘At the moment, as a matter of fact, I’m more interested in horses.’
    ‘You don’t look as if you knew much about them either. Taxis I should say was more your line.’ Mr Gee, maintaining his air of mild euphoria, began to move away.
    ‘And one horse in particular. I’ve come about Daffodil.’
    ‘Gawd!’ said Mr Gee, and quickened his step.
    ‘Did they try to buy Daffodil first?’
    Mr Gee stopped. ‘You mayn’t know a poodle from a chow,’ he said. ‘But you’re a sensible man. It took the others half an hour to think of that one. And of course they did. What would be the sense of all that stour to steal a horse you knew wouldn’t fetch above a ten-pound note? They offered me thirty.’
    ‘And you refused?’
    ‘Of course I refused. Do you think I want to be taken up? It’s contrary to the provisions of the Act.’
    Appleby, if he knew little about horses, had necessarily to know much about the law. And this particular piece of legislative wisdom was new to him. ‘You supposed it was illegal? I hardly think–’
    ‘It was contrary to the provisions of the Act.’ Mr Gee was obstinate. ‘Twenty pounds for nout is certain sure to be contrary to

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