Chapter 32 Chapter Thirty-One

(Excerpt from the Diary of Sir Eustace Peterler) Johannesburg, March 7th. Here comes Pagett.Of course, he was worried.Dismayed, I suggested that I should set off for Pretoria at once.Then, when I told him with certainty and kindness that we would stay here, he went to the other extreme, regretted that he hadn't brought his rifle, and started talking about how he protected a bridge in wartime , a railway bridge or something at the Little Puddi Cambie Junction. I interrupted his story shortly thereafter to ask him to unpack the big typewriter.I figured that would keep him busy for a while, because the typewriter kept breaking down and he had to take it somewhere to fix it.But I forgot Pagett's amazing ability to get things done.

"I have unpacked all the boxes, Sir Eustace. The typewriter is in very good condition." "What did you say - all the boxes?" "Including those two small boxes." "I wish you hadn't been so reckless, Pagett. Those little boxes are none of your business. They belong to Mrs. Blair." Pagett was a deflated ball, and he hated making mistakes. "You'll just have to pack them up again!" I continued, "and then you can go out and look around. Maybe Johannesburg will be a smoking pile of ruins tomorrow, so this could be yours." Last chance."

I figured it would get me out of him for a morning anyway. "There is something I would like to tell you at your leisure, Sir Eustace." "I don't have time now," I said quickly, "I don't have time at all right now." Pagett backed out. "By the way," I called back to him, "what's in those boxes of Mrs. Blair's?" "Some fur blankets, and some fur-hats, I think." "That's right," I said approvingly, "she bought it on the train. It's a kind of hat, no wonder you don't recognize it. I bet she'll be wearing one at the Juneday races." .what else?"

"A few rolls of negatives, some baskets—many baskets—" "There must be," I assured him. "Mrs. Blair is one of those women who never buys less than a dozen." "That's all I think, Sir Eustace, except there are some grotesque things, a veil and some strange gloves and all." "If you weren't a born idiot, Pagett, you would have known that things couldn't possibly be mine." "I thought some of them might belong to Miss Pettigrew." "Ah, that reminds me of—what do you mean, why pick out such a dubious fellow as my secretary?"

I told him about my interrogation.Then I immediately regretted it, and I saw the twinkle in his eye that I knew all too well.I hastily changed the subject, but it was too late.Pagett was already preparing to argue. Then he bothered me with an unintelligible incident about the "Gillmorden Castle."It's about a roll of negatives and a bet.The roll of negatives was thrown into a cabin through the air window in the middle of the night by a waiter who knew the reason.I hate crude entertainment, I told Pagett, and he told me the whole thing all over again.His story was so badly told that it took me a long, long time to get the hang of it.

I didn't see him until lunch time.Then he walked in, excited like a big police dog in a movie.I never liked big police dogs.It turned out that he had seen Rayburn. "What?" I yelled in shock. Yes, he saw a man he was sure was Raeburn walking down the street.Pagett followed him. "Who do you think I saw him stop to talk to? Miss Pettigrew!" "what?" "Yes, Sir Eustace. More than that. I've looked into her—" "Wait a minute. What did Rayburn do after that?" "He and Miss Pettigrew went into that corner produce shop—" I couldn't help but exclaimed.Pagett paused in bewilderment.

"Nothing," I said, "keep talking." "I waited a long time outside—but they didn't come out. I went in at last. There was no one in the shop, Sir Eustace! They must have gone by another passage." I watch him. "As I said, I went back to the hotel and did some research on Miss Pettigrew," said Pagett in a low voice, breathing heavily, as he always did whenever he wanted to tell a secret. "Sir Eustace, a man was seen coming out of her room last night." I keep my eyes open. "I've always thought of her as a very respectable lady," I murmured.

Pagett, not noticing, went on: "I went straight upstairs and searched her room. Guess what I found?" I shake my head. "this!" Pagett produced a safety razor and a bar of shaving soap. "What do women want these for?" I don't think Pagett saw the ad in a high lady magazine.I have seen it.I'm not going to argue with him on that point, I just don't agree with the use of a razor as evidence of Miss Pettigrew's sex.Pagett had never been so helpless.I wouldn't be surprised if Pagett backed up his view with cigarette packs.Yet even a man like Pagett has his limits.

"You don't believe it, Sir Eustace. What do you say about that?" I inspected what he was dangling triumphantly aloft. "Looks like hair," I said with disgust. "It's the hair. I think it's what's called a wig." "Indeed it is," I judged. "Now you believe that Miss Pettigrew was a man in disguise?" "Really, dear Pagett, I think I believe it. I should have seen it at her feet." "That's right, then. Now, Sir Eustace, I want to speak to you on a personal matter concerning me. I cannot doubt it, from your allusions and your repeated insinuations to me in Florence. During this time, you have already found out about me."

Pagett's secret in Florence is finally about to be revealed! "Tell me all honestly, my good secretary," I said mildly, "that it is best." "Thank you, Sir Eustace." "Is it her husband? Husband, nasty guy. Always showing up unexpectedly." "I don't understand you, Sir Eustace. Whose husband?" "The woman's husband." "What woman?" "God, of course it was the woman you met in Florence. There must be a woman. Don't tell me you just robbed a church or stabbed an Italian in the back because you didn't like him .”

"I don't really know you, Sir Eustace. I think you're joking." "Sometimes I'm a jest, when I'm in trouble. But I assure you, I don't mean to be joking now." .” "I hope I was so far from you that you didn't recognize me, Sir Eustace." "Where did I recognize you?" "At Marlowe, Sir Eustace." "In Marlowe? What the hell are you doing in Marlowe?" "I thought you knew—" "I'm beginning to lose my understanding. Start over from the beginning. You go to Florence—" "Then you don't know at all—and you don't recognize me!" "From what I can judge, you seem to have surrendered unnecessarily - letting your conscience turn you into a coward. However I think I'll judge better after I've heard the whole story. Take a deep breath now, Start all over. You went to Florence—" "But I didn't go to Florence. That's all." "Well, where have you been?" "I'm going home—to Marlowe." "What are you going to Marlowe for?" "I want to see my wife. She's frail and longing to—" "Your wife? But I didn't know you were married!" "Yes, Sir Eustace, that is exactly what I want to tell you. I have been keeping it from you." "How long have you been married?" "Exactly eight years have passed. I had only been married for six months when I became your secretary. I did not want to lose the job. A personal secretary is not allowed to have a family, so I kept it a secret." "You're petrifying me," I said. "Where has she been all these years?" "We've had a little bungalow on the river in Marlow, very close to the 'mill', for over five years." "My God," I murmured, "Any kids?" "Four children, Sir Eustace." I stared at him a little dazedly.I should have known that a man like Pagett couldn't have any secrets.Pagett's noble character has been my bane.That was his secret—a wife and four children. "Have you ever told anyone about this?" I finally asked him, after I'd stared at him wistfully for a while. "Only Miss Beddingfield. She's going to Kimberley Station." I continued to watch him, and he fidgeted under my gaze. "I hope, Sir Eustace, you are not really so troubled?" "My good secretary," I said, "I might as well tell you right now that you've screwed up my whole business!" I walked out worried.As I passed the produce store around the corner, I was drawn in by a sudden, irresistible pull.The shopkeeper greeted him humbly.Rub your hands together. "Would you like something? Wool, antique!" "I want something quite special," I said, "for a special occasion. Can you show me all you have?" "Perhaps you'd like to come to my back room? We have a lot of special things there." That's where I made the mistake of thinking I was smart.I followed him through the swinging curtain.