When Alleyn and Fox arrived, however, it was to discover Simon Begg’s car outside and a scene of semi-jubilant fantasy within. The five Andersen brothers had been exceedingly busy. Lanthorns, lighted candles and electric torches were all in play. A trestle-table had been rigged up in the middle of the smithy and, on it, as if they bore witness to some successful parish fete, were many little heaps of money. Copper, silver, paper: all were there; and, at the very moment of arrival, Alleyn and Fox found Dan Andersen with his brothers clustered round him shining their torches on a neat golden pile at one end of the table.
“Sovereigns,” Dan was saying. “Eleven golden sovereigns. There they be! Can you believe your eyes, chaps?”
“Gold,” Ernie said loudly, “ain’t it? Gold.”
“It’ll’ve been the Grand-dad’s, surely,” Andy said solemnly. “He were a great saver and hoarder and the Dad after him: so like’s two cherry stones. As has always been recognized.”
A little worshipful chorus mounted above the totem brightness of the sovereigns. A large policeman moved nearer the table, and out of the shadows behind the forge came Simon Begg, wearing the broad and awkward smile of an onlooker at other people’s good fortune.
They heard Alleyn and Fox and they all looked up, preoccupied and perhaps a little wary.
Dan said, “Look at this, sir. This is what we’ve found and never thought to see. My father’s savings and his dad’s before him and no doubt his’n before that. There’s crown pieces here with a king’s head on them and sovereigns and bank notes so old and dirty it’s hard to say what they’re worth. We’re flabbergasted.”
“I’m not surprised,” Alleyn said. “It’s a fabulous sight. Where did you find it all?”
Dan made a comprehensive sweep of his arm.
“Everywhere. Iron boxes under his bed. Mouldy old tins and pots along the top shelves. Here it’s been, as you might say, laughing at us, I dun know how many years. We’ve not touched on the half of it yet, however. No doubt there’ll be lashings more to come.”
“I can’t credit it!” Andy said. “It’s unnatural.”
“We’re made men, chaps,” Nat said doubtfully. “Bean’t we?”
“Have you found a Will?” Alleyn asked.
“So we have, then,” they chanted. They were so much alike in appearance and in manner that, again, Alleyn couldn’t help thinking of them as chorus to the action.
“May I see it?”
Dan produced it quite readily. It had been found in a locked iron box under the bed and was twenty years old.
Andy, who was gradually emerging as the least rugged and most sentimental of the Andersens, embarked, with some relish, on a little narrative.
“April the second, 1936. That was the day our Bess ran away to marry. Powerful angered he was that night. Wouldn’t go to bed. Us could hear him tramping about in yur, all hours.”
“Stoked up the fire, he did,” Dan chipped in and he also adopted the story-teller’s drone, “and burnt all her bits of finery and anything else she left behind. Ah-huh!”
Ernie laughed uproariously and hit his knees.
Chris said, “He must of wrote it that night. Next day when two chaps come in with a welding job, he axed ’em into his room and when they come out I yurd ’em laughing and telling each other they didn’t reckon what the old chap left would make a millionaire of nobody. There’s their names put to it in witness.”
“More fools them, as it turns out,” Dan said amiably. “Not to say ‘millionaire,’ mind, but handsome.”
They all murmured together and the policeman from Biddle-fast cleared his throat.
Simon said, “Funny how things work out, though, isn’t it?”
Alleyn was reading the Will. It was a very short document: the whole of the Guiser’s estate was to be divided equally among his sons, “ ‘on condition that they do not give any to my daughter Elizabeth or to any child she may bear, on account of what she done this day.’ Signed ‘W. Andersen.’ ”
“Terrible bitter,” Andy pointed out and sighed heavily.
Nat, addressing himself to Alleyn, asked anxiously, “But how do us chaps stand, sir? Is this here document a proper testyment? Will it hold up afore a coroner? Is it law?”
Alleyn had much ado not to reply, “ ‘Aye, marry is’t. Crowner’s quest law?’ ” so evocative of those other countrymen were the Andersens, peering up at him, red-faced and bright-eyed in the lamplight.
He said, “Your solicitor will be the man to talk to about that. Unless your father made a later Will, I should think this one ought to be all right.”
“And then us’ll have enough to turn this old shop into a proper masterpiece of a garridge, won’t us, chaps?” Ernie demanded excitedly.
Dan said seriously, “It’s not the occasion to bring that up, now, Ern. It’ll come due for considering at the proper time.”
Chris said, “Why not consider it now? It’s at the back of what we’re thinking. And with all this great heap of cash — well!”
Andy said, “I don’t fancy talking about it, knowing how set he was agin it.” He turned to Alleyn. “Seems to me, sir, we ought to be axing you what’s the right thing to do with all this stuff.”
“You should leave everything as it is until the Will is proved. But I don’t really know about these things and I’ve got to be off. Inspector Fox will stay here until the ambulance comes. I’d suggest that when your — your astonishing search is completed, you do very carefully count and lock away all this money. Indeed, if I may say so, I think you should keep a tally as you go. Goodnight.”
They broke into a subdued chorus of acknowledgment. Alleyn glanced at Fox and turned to go out. Simon said, “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do if I was watching you, all you bods. Cheery-ho-ho,” and accompanied Alleyn to the cars. Fox walked down with them.
“Like a lot of great big kids, really, aren’t they?” Simon said.
Alleyn was non-committal.
“Well, Ern is, anyway,” Simon said defensively. “Just a great big kid.” He opened the door for Alleyn and stood with his hand still on it. He looked at his boots and kicked the snow, at the moment rather like a small boy, himself.
“You all seem to pick on the old Corp,” Simon mumbled.
“We only want the facts from him, you know. As from everybody else.”
“But he’s not like everybody else. He’ll tell you anything. Irresponsible.”
(“He’s going to say it again,” Alleyn thought.)
“Just like a great big kid,” Simon added punctually.
“Don’t worry,” Alleyn said. “We’ll try not to lose our heads.”
Simon grinned and looked at him sideways.
“It’s nice for them, all the same,” he said. He rubbed his fingers and thumb together.
“Oh!” Alleyn said, “the Guiser’s hoard. Yes. Grand, for them, isn’t it? I must get on.”
He started his engine. It was cold and sluggish and he revved it up noisily. Ernie appeared in the pool of light outside the smithy door. He came slowly towards the car and then stopped. Something in his demeanor arrested Alleyn.
“Hi-ya, Corp,” Simon called out cheerfully. It was characteristic of him to bestow perpetual greetings.
Alleyn suddenly decided to take a chance. “See here,” he said hurriedly to Simon. “I want to ask Ernie something. I could get him by himself, but I’ve a better chance of a reasonable answer if you stand by. Will you?”
“Look here, though —”
“Ernie,” Alleyn called, “just a second, will you?” Ernie moved forward.
“If you’re trying to catch him out—” Simon began.
“Do you suggest there’s anything to catch?”
“No.”
“Ernie,” Alleyn said, “come here a moment.” Ernie walked slowly towards them, looking at Simon.