“Am I still invited?” Poland asked her with a smile.
“Of course. Come in and have a drink before the film gets under way. I promise not to poison you.”
He shot her a look of anger, but she’d already turned away. They followed her into a large living room where perhaps 30 people were chatting in small groups while a maid passed a tray of drinks in the best tradition. “This is really living,” Gloria whispered.
Nick felt a bit like the society thief in those old Raffles books. Glancing at the necklaces and diamond rings adorning the women, he had to remind himself that he’d come to steal nothing more valuable than yesterday’s newspaper.
Hope Trennis led them to a slender man wearing mod glasses and dark hair long enough to cover his ears. “This is my friend Eric Noble from the BBC. You know Felix, Eric, and this is Nick Velvet and his wife Gloria, over from America.”
They shook hands all around and Hope flew off to greet more late arrivals. “Your first visit here?” Noble asked Nick. No doubt it was his stock conversation gambit with visiting Americans.
“No, I was over in ’71.” Nick lit one of the infrequent cigarettes he’d been indulging in during their vacation, ignoring Gloria’s pained expression.
“You’ll find some things changed since then.” Noble motioned toward the color television set. “I suppose you’ve already seen the film?”
Nick nodded. “We caught it back in the States.”
“I’m a big fan of Hope’s,” Gloria added.
Nick left her to converse with Eric Noble while he took Poland to one side. “Where should I look first? You mentioned a safe in the study. Or should I check the dustbins first?”
His client snorted. “Picking up our British phrases so quickly, Velvet? No, it’s more likely in the safe, or somewhere else in her study. I’m sure she was sent one yesterday morning by a columnist on the paper, and I don’t think she would have destroyed it so soon. Be careful, though. If she discovers you’re after it, she could burn it quickly enough.”
“Don’t worry.”
Hope Trennis was at the front of the room, flanking the television set and calling for attention. “It’s about to begin, ladies and gentlemen. Do be seated. After the show we’ll be serving a buffet supper in the study.”
Nick glanced at his watch as the lights dimmed. 9:15, exactly. That meant the film would end its hundred-minute run at 10:55, since it was playing without interruptions. He wondered why the British TV schedules always seemed so irregular. Nothing would ever begin at 9:15 back home. He settled back in his chair to watch the beginning of “100 Minutes,” keeping an eye on the study door which was slightly ajar. A light was on in there, and he saw the butler and maid pass across his slender line of vision from time to time, preparing the buffet supper for later. He realized he might have no chance to slip into the study unobserved.
The film droned on and he watched a surprisingly agile Hope Trennis scale a board fence while pursued by the villains. She played the middle-aged wife of an important presidential advisor, sought by kidnapers who hoped to force her husband to deliver certain top-secret documents into their hands. It was predictable but exciting.
Nick glanced at the glowing numbers on his digital watch.
9:39.
The light in the study was still on. He had a glimpse of the maid carrying a tray of cups.
On the television screen Hope had eluded her pursuer for the moment and taken refuge in a gas station where she’d met a handsome mechanic. While Gloria watched the screen as if she’d never seen the film before, Nick grew increasingly restless. He was missing the perfect opportunity to search the study.
9:52.
As the minutes passed he decided the butler and maid intended to remain in the study until supper was served. But then, as if in answer to his silent prayer, the study light went out and the door opened. The servants slipped into the living room to watch the last half of the film.
The time was 10:05.
In the darkness no one but Gloria noticed him leave his chair and slip quietly to the back of the room. For the most part the audience watched the film in polite silence, though occasionally Hope would cause a ripple of laughter with some remark directed to her image. During one suspenseful moment Nick slipped into the darkened study and closed the door. He was certain not even the servants had noticed.
10:08. He turned on the desk lamp and set to work. He had 47 minutes to find the newspaper. Plenty of time.
If it was in the study at all.
10:15.
The desk had yielded nothing, nor had the cabinet with drawers that stood against the far wall. His eyes passed over the fireplace and a crowded bookcase, searching for the most likely hiding place for a safe.
Nick found it behind one of the paintings, in the best British tradition. As he twirled the knob experimentally he really did begin to feel like Raffles, the famous gentleman crook.
The safe was an old one, not very good. But then he wasn’t a very good safecracker, either. He pressed his ear against the cold metal and listened for the sound of the tumblers.
It took him ten minutes to get the first number.
He began to sweat a bit. The time was 10:30. Could he do it in twenty-five minutes?
The second number came at 10:38. He was working close to the line. He heard a cheer go up from the next room and he knew the moment of the grand climax was approaching.
Just a few more minutes...
The safe came open at 10:51. Four minutes to spare.
He was reaching inside it just as the door opened and Eric Noble stepped into the study. The man from the BBC eyed him for an instant and quickly closed the door before others could follow. “Well! What have we here?”
The safe held nothing but a satin-covered jewel box. Nick closed the door, spun the dial, and replaced the painting. “Just keeping my hand in,” he said.
“So I noticed.”
The study door opened again and the butler hurried in to complete the food arrangements. The guests were crowding behind him. Nick tried to keep cool. “So the BBC dropped four minutes out of Hope’s triumph?”
“Not at all,” Noble said. “Oh, I see! You were working against the running time of the film. You didn’t know—”
“Food’s ready, everyone,” Hope Trennis announced. “Be sure to pick up a glass of champagne at the end of the table.”
Felix Poland came in with Gloria. He glanced over to where Nick stood, a question in his eyes. Nick ignored it and stepped to one side with Eric Noble. “You’re the first thief I ever met,” the BBC man said. “Out of loyalty to Hope I really should turn you in.”
“I stole nothing. And there’s only your word that the safe was open.”
“True enough,” Noble agreed. “What’s your game, Velvet? You’re not the usual run of thief. And you did arrive with Felix Poland.” Even as he said the words a light dawned. “Of course! That rascal hired you, didn’t he?”
“Did he?”
Gloria came up to them with a plate of food. “You’d better get in line, Nicky, before it’s all gone.”
“I don’t think Hope Trennis is likely to run out of food,” he said, but he joined Noble in line nevertheless.
“I’ll give you a tip for next time,” Noble said. “An engineering quirk of British television transmission causes an imperceptible speed-up of projection. A twenty-five-minute film loses one minute on our TV. And Hope’s ‘100 Minutes’ is a fast ninety-six minutes here.”