The Umbrella Man and Other Stories by Roald Dahl Read Free Book Online

time you let other people do your donkey work for you. You’re much too important for that sort of thing. Why don’t you give the inlays to the mechanic?”
    “I prefer to do them myself. I’m extremely proud of my inlays.”
    “I know you are, darling, and I think they’re absolutely wonderful. They’re the best inlays in the whole world. But I don’t want you to burn yourself out. And why doesn’t that Pulteney woman do the accounts? That’s part of her job, isn’t it?”
    “She does do them. But I have to price everything up first. She doesn’t know who’s rich and who isn’t.”
    “This martini is perfect,” Mrs. Bixby said, setting down her glass on the side table. “Quite perfect.” She opened her bag and took out a handkerchief as if to blow her nose. “Oh look!” she cried, seeing the ticket. “I forgot to show you this! I found it just now on the seat of my taxi. It’s got a number on it, and I thought it might be a lottery ticket or something, so I kept it.”
    She handed the small piece of stiff brown paper to her husband, who took it in his fingers and began examining it minutely from all angles, as though it were a suspect tooth.
    “You know what this is?” he said slowly.
    “No dear, I don’t.”
    “It’s a pawn ticket.”
    “A what?”
    “A ticket from a pawnbroker. Here’s the name and address of the shop—somewhere on Sixth Avenue.”
    “Oh dear, I
am
disappointed. I was hoping it might be a ticket for the Irish Sweep.”
    “There’s no reason to be disappointed,” Cyril Bixby said. “As a matter of fact this could be rather amusing.”
    “Why could it be amusing, darling?”
    He began explaining to her exactly how a pawn ticket worked, with particular reference to the fact that anyone possessing the ticket was entitled to claim the article. She listened patiently until he had finished his lecture.
    “You think it’s worth claiming?” she asked.
    “I think it’s worth finding out what it is. You see this figure of fifty dollars that’s written here? You know what that means?”
    “No, dear, what does it mean?”
    “It means that the item in question is almost certain to be something quite valuable.”
    “You mean it’ll be worth fifty dollars?”
    “More like five hundred.”
    “Five hundred!”
    “Don’t you understand?” he said. “A pawnbroker never gives you more than about a tenth of the real value.”
    “Good gracious! I never knew that.”
    “There’s a lot of things you don’t know, my dear. Now you listen to me. Seeing that there’s no name and address of the owner . . . ”
    “But surely there’s something to say who it belongs to?”
    “Not a thing. People often do that. They don’t want anyone to know they’ve been to a pawnbroker. They’re ashamed of it.”
    “Then you think we can keep it?”
    “Of course we can keep it. This is now
our
ticket.”
    “You mean
my
ticket,” Mrs. Bixby said firmly. “I found it.”
    “My dear girl, what
does
it matter? The important thing is that we are now in a position to go and redeem it any time we like for only fifty dollars. How about that?”
    “Oh, what fun!” she cried. “I think it’s terribly exciting, especially when we don’t even know what it is. It could be
anything
, isn’t that right, Cyril? Absolutely anything!”
    “It could indeed, although it’s most likely to be either a ring or a watch.”
    “But wouldn’t it be marvellous if it was a
real
treasure? I mean something
really
old, like a wonderful old vase or a Roman statue.”
    “There’s no knowing what it might be, my dear. We shall just have to wait and see.”
    “I think it’s absolutely fascinating! Give me the ticket and I’ll rush over first thing Monday morning and find out!”
    “I think I’d better do that.”
    “Oh no!” she cried. “Let
me
do it!”
    “I think not. I’ll pick it up on my way to work.”
    “But it’s
my
ticket!
Please
let me do it, Cyril! Why should
you
have all the