The Scandal at 23 Mount Street (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 9) by Clara Benson Read Free Book Online Page A

Valencourt turned off the Kent road.
    ‘Do you know where it is?’ said Angela.
    ‘I think so,’ he replied. ‘Luckily for us, it’s on the outskirts of the town so we oughtn’t to draw too much attention to ourselves.’
    It now occurred to Angela to wonder what would happen if they were caught. Valencourt would be arrested, of course, but what would happen to her? Was it a crime to be in possession of stolen goods even if one intended to return them? She did not know. And what would the police say if they found her in company with a known criminal? For the first time Angela was forced to consider whether or not she ought to deny all knowledge of his activities if she were ever questioned on the subject. Of course, it would be a cowardly thing to do, but equally there would be little sense in admitting to knowing who he was, for it was not as though she had ever stolen anything herself and she had always done her best to distance herself from him—with very little success, it was true, but her intentions were good. She was quite certain that Valencourt would advise her not to confess anything, but her conscience was uncomfortable. After a few minutes’ consideration, she decided very sensibly that it would be much better not to get caught at all, and put the thing out of her mind.
    They drove along country roads for a mile or two, then Valencourt stopped the car.
    ‘We’d better walk from here,’ he said. ‘A car will be too noisy at this time of night.’
    ‘It’s not far, is it?’ said Angela, who was not dressed for muddy lanes.
    ‘Only a quarter of a mile or so,’ he said.
    Fortunately, the road was not too dirty, and soon they saw a pair of tall gate-posts ahead of them. Through them, Angela could just see the outline of a large house a short distance away.
    ‘Well, here goes,’ said Valencourt, and fished in his pocket for the brooch.
    ‘Hadn’t you better wipe the finger-prints off it first?’ said Angela.
    ‘I don’t suppose you’d take it as a compliment if I told you you’d make a good criminal?’ he said.
    ‘Not exactly,’ she said.
    He wiped the brooch and wrapped it carefully in the handkerchief, then, placing a finger over his lips, he took her hand and they tiptoed up the path together. The house was in pitch blackness and all was silent. Angela found herself holding her breath. She would not admit it, but she was afraid, fearing that lights would suddenly go on and dogs would start to bark, and it would be all up with them. But everything remained quiet and they reached the front door without incident.
    They stood under the portico and Angela regarded Valencourt expectantly. He looked at the little bundle in his hand.
    ‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?’ he said in a low voice.
    ‘Quite sure.’
    ‘Very well, then. Will you do it for me?’
    ‘No, Edgar,’ she said. ‘I want to see you do it.’
    ‘You’re a hard woman,’ he said. He hesitated for just a moment, then dropped it through the letter-box.
    They returned to the car. Angela was fighting the urge to break into a run, but he walked at a leisurely pace as though they were strolling along the river on a Sunday afternoon.
    ‘Back to London, then,’ he said as he started the engine. ‘Do you suppose your friends have noticed you’ve gone yet?’
    ‘I told them I wasn’t feeling well and that I’d get a taxi home,’ she said. ‘I ought to be quite safe.’
    He glanced at her.
    ‘Are you sure of that?’ he said.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I don’t like leaving you to the mercies of that fellow.’
    ‘I told you, there’s no need to worry about him. He’s a nuisance, that’s all. He wants money, and he’ll probably hang around until I’ve given him enough to satisfy him for the present, then go away.’
    ‘It’s a pity you didn’t divorce him when you had the chance,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I didn’t have time, though. I came away rather quickly in the end. I was