"We can hardly just go rifling through all her personal possessions. I mean, at least one of us wouldn't be comfortable with doing that; but I think we at least ought to go and have another talk with her."
Matthew sighed. "Oh, goody goody. I can hardly wait."
Chapter 10
"But why?" Meg was asking. "Haven't you got better things to do than spend time looking for something like that? I've already told you it's worthless. It only holds sentimental value."
It wasn't that Charles was unwilling to explain the situation; he just knew that he wouldn't be understood. Once again sitting in Meg's small parlour, it occurred to Charles that trying to get the required information from Meg was rather like it had been in the old days trying to find out train information from a branch line ticket office.
"Meg," he tried again. "I am Lord Alfred's solicitor and in order that I can correctly settle his estate, according to his wishes, it is of the utmost importance that I find that missing sphinx. Can you tell us anything about it? Please."
"Why isn't James here? I thought you said he was going to visit me."
"As soon as I see him I will tell him."
"Thank you."
Another pause.
"Well…?"
"Well what?"
Matthew interrupted. "The sphinx, Meg! Where is it?"
"There's no need to shout. I'm not deaf, you know."
Motioning for Matthew to be silent, Charles spoke again, more softly. "Please, Meg. The sphinx?"
"Ah yes, the sphinx. Do you know where I got it? Many years ago, Lord and Lady Willoughby went for a holiday in the country and asked me to go along, to help look after them — not that I had any choice in the matter, naturally; a good servant knows their station in life, that's what James always says. Oh, I do wish he’d come. Anyway, one afternoon, Lady Willoughby wanted to take a nap, so Lord Willoughby and I went out walking by ourselves."
Meg paused, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Nothing, that is, except the memories in her mind at that moment.
"It just so happened that we came upon a country fair with all manner of stalls and sideshows. One of the stalls was selling something called 'do-it-yourself' sculptures. They weren't real sculptures, of course. You paid your money, selected a mould and filled it with plaster. Then they put it in some sort of oven and when you came back a little while later they peeled off the mould and there you were, feeling like Michaelangelo, with a little memento of your day to take home."
"So what happened?"
"Well, being in holiday mood, Lord Willoughby decided he'd like to have a go at this — he was quite an accomplished artist, you know? — and he asked me to choose a mould. There were lots to choose from, but in the end I chose the sphinx. When we collected the finished model later he gave it to me as a present."
"That's a lovely story, Meg."
"Where is it now?" asked Matthew.
"Where's what?"
"The sphinx!" Matthew was once again coming close to losing his temper.
"Oh, you do keep going on about it! Where's James?"
With a practised calmness in his voice, Charles asked, "Meg, is the sphinx in one of those packing cases in the cellar?"
"Of course it isn't. Why would I put it down there?"
"Did you leave it somewhere back at the manor?"
"No."
"Ok… well… did you put it in this room?"
"Yes."
Charles and Matthew were startled by this revelation and both looked round. There were ornaments aplenty throughout the room — on shelves, on the mantlepiece, on the window sill, even on top of the curtain pelmet… but none of them looked like a sphinx.
"Where, Meg? We can't see where you put it."
She gave a little smile and pointed to a low table in the corner, laden with knick-knacks and curios. In the centre was what looked like a jewelry box.
"I put it in there."
Matthew crossed the room in a single bound and picked up the box. Opening the lid he found that it was stuffed with many folds of thin black fabric, and it was clear from the indentations that something that was probably fragile had been kept inside, with the fabric used as cushioning. But whatever it had been was no longer there. Aside from the black material the box was empty.
"Oh dear," said Meg. "Is it not there after all?"
Matthew gave a cry of exasperation and dropped the box onto a chair.
"Temper, temper, young man," muttered Meg, then gave one of her little-old-lady chuckles. Turning to Charles, she said, "I do so wish James was here. I like you, you know."
"I like you too, Meg."
"Now, don't you patronise me, young man. I may be a servant but that doesn't mean I don't have a brain. You asked me if I put the sphinx in this room and I did." She smiled. "But later I moved it to somewhere else. I was about to tell you, but with the way you two have been shouting and carrying on I thought you needed to be taught a lesson."
There was a pause, while Meg regarded her two visitors with a stern stare as though they were naughty schoolboys.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well what?"
She rolled her eyes skyward. "Have you learnt your lesson?"
"Yes, Meg, we have and we're both very sorry — we're sorry, aren't we Matthew?"
"Oh… er… yeah. We're sorry." They both did their level best to appear suitably penitent.
"Hmm… well, just so long as you really are." She paused again, then seemed to reach a conclusion. "Very well then. The model you're looking for, which used to occupy that box, you'll now find on my bedside table in the other room, but please be careful with it."
Matthew was already on his way but Charles stopped him and indicated that he would fetch it, which he did in a manner which he hoped would appear a little less hasty. Returning to the room a few moments later he had a satisfied expression on his face as he carefully cradled the all-important and elusive sphinx. It was made of white plaster and, as he turned it over in his hands, a message came into view inscribed in the base:
To M. My tribute to Oscar's best. Love, A.
Meg was smiling wistfully again.
"When the stallholder passed the sphinx to Lord Alfred he warned him that the plaster would still be just a little soft. That was when His Lordship picked up a little piece of twig from the ground and wrote that message for me into the base. I felt so honoured; I mean… a personal message from Lord Alfred to me!"
"What did he mean by 'Oscar's best'?" asked Charles.
"I'm not sure. I did ask him, but he just smiled and said I would probably figure it out one day. I wondered whether perhaps it was something to do with the film award ceremony. Lord Alfred was well connected in those days and he so loved mixing with all those fine folk from the silver screen. What did you say your name was?"
"Charles. I'm Charles, and this is Matthew, Lord Alfred's son."
"Oh, I thought James was coming."
"Meg, we have to go now. Would it be alright if we borrowed the sphinx, just for a little while? We'll bring it back just as soon as our work is finished."
"Must you take it? I'm really very fond of it."
"We'll take great care of it, Meg. I promise."
"Very well, but please bring it back safely. I'm sure James would be happy to bring it back, if you asked him."
"Thank you. You have been very helpful," said Charles, as he placed the model carefully back into its fabric-lined box…
A moment later found Charles and Matthew standing on the short pathway leading to the gate in the white fence. The thunder had eased but the rain was heavier now, and it was decidedly chilly and almost dark.
"A good job we brought the car this time," said Matthew, holding the box containing the sphinx.