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Page 68
He moved cautiously in its direction--not in a straight line as
one going to a museum, but circuitously as one strolling without
an aim. From time to time he glanced over his shoulder. He
reached the door, hesitated, and passed it. He turned, reached
the door again--and again passed it. He stood for a moment
darting his eyes about the hall; then, in a burst of resolution,
he dashed for the door and shot in like a rabbit.
At the same moment the Efficient Baxter, who, from the shelter of
a pillar on the gallery that ran around two-thirds of the hall,
had been eyeing the peculiar movements of the distinguished guest
with considerable interest for some minutes, began to descend the
stairs.
Rupert Baxter, the Earl of Emsworth's indefatigable private
secretary, was one of those men whose chief characteristic is a
vague suspicion of their fellow human beings. He did not suspect
them of this or that definite crime; he simply suspected them. He
prowled through life as we are told the hosts of Midian prowled.
His powers in this respect were well-known at Blandings Castle.
The Earl of Emsworth said: "Baxter is invaluable--positively
invaluable." The Honorable Freddie said: "A chappie can't take a
step in this bally house without stumbling over that damn feller,
Baxter!" The manservant and the maidservant within the gates,
like Miss Willoughby, employing that crisp gift for
characterization which is the property of the English lower
orders, described him as a Nosy Parker.
Peering over the railing of the balcony and observing the curious
movements of Mr. Peters, who, as a matter of fact, while making
up his mind to approach the door, had been backing and filling
about the hall in a quaint serpentine manner like a man trying to
invent a new variety of the tango, the Efficient Baxter had found
himself in some way--why, he did not know--of what, he could not
say--but in some nebulous way, suspicious.
He had not definitely accused Mr. Peters in his mind of any
specific tort or malfeasance. He had merely felt that something
fishy was toward. He had a sixth sense in such matters.
But when Mr. Peters, making up his mind, leaped into the museum,
Baxter's suspicions lost their vagueness and became crystallized.
Certainty descended on him like a bolt from the skies. On oath,
before a notary, the Efficient Baxter would have declared that J.
Preston Peters was about to try to purloin the scarab.
Lest we should seem to be attributing too miraculous powers of
intuition to Lord Emsworth's secretary, it should be explained
that the mystery which hung about that curio had exercised his
mind not a little since his employer had given it to him to place
in the museum. He knew Lord Emsworth's power of forgetting and he
did not believe his account of the transaction. Scarab maniacs
like Mr. Peters did not give away specimens from their
collections as presents. But he had not divined the truth of what
had happened in London.
The conclusion at which he had arrived was that Lord Emsworth had
bought the scarab and had forgotten all about it. To support this
theory was the fact that the latter had taken his check book to
London with him. Baxter's long acquaintance with the earl had
left him with the conviction that there was no saying what he
might not do if left loose in London with a check book.
As to Mr. Peters' motive for entering the museum, that, too,
seemed completely clear to the secretary. He was a curio
enthusiast himself and he had served collectors in a secretarial
capacity; and he knew, both from experience and observation, that
strange madness which may at any moment afflict the collector,
blotting out morality and the nice distinction between meum and
tuum, as with a sponge. He knew that collectors who would not
steal a loaf if they were starving might--and did--fall before
the temptation of a coveted curio.
He descended the stairs three at a time, and entered the museum
at the very instant when Mr. Peters' twitching fingers were about
to close on his treasure. He handled the delicate situation with
eminent tact. Mr. Peters, at the sound of his step, had executed a
backward leap, which was as good as a confession of guilt, and
his face was rigid with dismay; but the Efficient Baxter
pretended not to notice these phenomena. His manner, when he
spoke, was easy and unembarrassed.
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