‘Right,’ she said once more. And I came to understand just how annoying that word can be when you are on the receiving end of it.
‘It is this way, Mr Woodbine. My family was once very wealthy. Many a grateful monarch rewarded the endeavors of their most noble knight. Posthumously, of course. But over the years the family fortune has been slipping away. And now it is all but gone. And so my brother turned to alchemy.’
‘Alchemy?’ I said, for I was not expecting that.
‘The transformation of base metal into gold. The creation of the philosophers’ stone, the lapis philosophorum. My brother said that it was the only way he could possibly restore the family fortune. You see, there are no real wars at the moment, so dying for King and country and being financially compensated by a grateful monarch are presently out of the question. So my brother sent off to America.’
‘He was sent off to America?’
‘No, he sent off a coupon, cut from a Marvel comic: Transform base metal into gold for fun and profit. Five dollars. It arrived by return of post.’
‘One question,’ I asked of Lola. ‘Do you have a zip code?’
‘Of course we do. We’re posh.’
Curse these working-class roots, I thought. ‘I thought as much,’ I said. ‘Do you think that is significant?’ asked Lola.
‘Everything is significant when you are a private eye,’ I told her. And my brother once more rolled his eyes. Which were not private ones, as it was not his week.
‘All right,’ I said to Lola. ‘Let me summarise. Your family is no longer as wealthy as it once was and so your brother sent off to America for a course in alchemy. Am I so far correct?’
‘You are,’ said Lola.
‘So what exactly is the problem?’
‘It’s the dog. It howls and howls in the night.’
‘Your dog, or your brother’s?’
‘My brother’s dog. It knows, you see – dogs know, don’t they? Dogs can see and sense things that people can’t. My brother’s dog senses that Pongo is not my brother.’
‘Pongo?’ I said. ‘Now please just run this past me once again, slowly.’
‘The dog knows,’ said Lola, ‘and I know now, too. I’m sure that my brother is not my brother. The person who appears to be my brother is a fake, a mockery, a travesty.’ And her voice rose somewhat, which I found strangely exciting. ‘My brother has been replaced by some doppelgänger. I want you to find out what this monster has done with my real brother.’
‘Monster, you say,’ said I. ‘You are absolutely sure about this? I mean, there can be no mistake? This person who appears to be your brother is definitely not your brother?’
‘Mr Woodbine,’ said Lola, ‘I know my own brother. If you had a brother, would you not know him? Do you have a brother, by the way?’
‘I am an only child,’ I said. And Andy ground his teeth.
‘So, will you take the case? Will you discover what has become of my real brother?’
‘Madam,’ said I, ‘I will. I will be honoured to take on a case for such a notable family as the Perbrights. I will need details, many details. Perhaps we might continue this conversation over dinner tonight.’
‘If you think it would help,’ said Lola.
‘Madam, it is essential. I need as much information as I can get. Tell me, have you ever eaten in a Wimpy Bar?’
23
I don’t know exactly what happened to Lola, or why she did not turn up for dinner at the Wimpy Bar that night, but there must have been a very good reason. Probably to do with her brother, Pongo. But whatever it was, she never mentioned it and I was far too polite to ask.
‘Why Pongo?’ asked my brother the following morning as he and I found ourselves plodding through the snow, bound for the Perbright residence.
‘Why such a foolish name?’ I asked of Andy and Andy nodded in reply. ‘It’s a toff thing. They all have names like that – Pongo and Binky, Berty, Rupert and Rhino.’
‘Rhino?’
‘Rhino, Wainscott, Trowel.’
‘And how come you know so much about toffs?’
‘I know a great many things. I read a lot. I subscribe to Junior Know-All Today magazine. It is a mine of information. And I know all about alchemy, too. Captain Lynch told me all about it. Anything to do with gold and Captain Lynch is on the case.’
‘Perhaps you’ll want his advice on this case.’
We reached a gate. And a big one, too. Before a great big house.
‘We’ll solve this case together,’ I said to Andy. ‘No one else need apply. And I don’t think it’s a real case anyway. I suspect that Lola is suffering from some mental aberration.’
‘She’d have to be if she had dinner with you last night. How did that go, by the way? You came home very early and went straight to bed.’
‘It’s a big house, isn’t it?’ I said, looking up at the big house before us. It rose like a hymn in praise of the banker’s craft. Victorian Gothic, my all-time favourite. There were even some turrets and a kind of black dome affair that might very well have been a camera obscura. ‘I think I’ll be happy here,’ I now said to Andy. ‘When we marry, I’ll probably live here for a while before I get a big house of my own.’
And Andy made laughter-snortings into his gloved hands. And I recognised those gloves and they were mine.
‘Come on,’ I told him. ‘And remember that you’re deaf, dumb and blind, so don’t say anything unless I ask you to.’
‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that, because-’
But I was up the path now and at the front door and I rang the bell. Which was an old-fashioned hand-pull jobbie, which rang a distant brass-bell-on-a-springy-thing jobbie, distantly. In the servants’ quarters, most likely.
And at rather a slackened pace, I considered, an underling arrived and opened the front door for us. A doddering manservant he was, somewhat bow-backed and mangy of hair, and dandruff-flaked about the shoulder regions.
‘Mr Lazlo Woodbine and associate,’ I informed this superannuated wretch. ‘Hasten in conveying us to your mistress – we are expected.’
‘You’re being a lot more Sherlock Holmes than Lazlo Woodbine,’ Andy whispered into my ear.
‘I’m more comfortable with it,’ I said. And then I shushed him and made motions towards the manservant.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said this ancient. ‘Miss Lola-Bonsai is awaiting you in the music room.’
‘Lola-Bonsai,’ I said to Andy. ‘How posh is that? Double-barrelled Christian name.’
‘This manservant smells of cheese,’ whispered Andy as he and I were ushered inside. The entrance hall was well hung with what surely were ancestral portraits – noble men all striking noble poses. Many were battlefield poses. And many of the posers lacked for a limb or two. I drew Andy’s attention to a name plaque attached beneath one of their likenesses. Lord Rhino Wainscott Perbright, it read.
The music room played host to a grand piano and I was sorely tempted to ask whether I might have a little tickle of the ivories. But I considered that it would have been unprofessional to do so. And anyway, I could thrash about on that old Joanna as much as I liked as soon as Lola-Bonsai and I had tied the knot.
There were heavy velvet curtains and these were half-drawn, which lent the room a certain sombreness. A fire blazed well in an ample hearth, though, and an ormolu mantel clock ticked and tocked on the marble mantel shelf. Tick and tock it went, a-ticking our lives away.
Lola was seated at a permanent table. [13] She was playing noughts and crosses with real noughts and she laid these delicately aside and rose to her feet as my brother and I were guided into the room.
‘Thank you, Sacheveral,’ she said to the manservant. ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to make some coffee for our guests.’