Free Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley Page B

sort of a money complex which brought him here just for the satisfaction of hearing large sums change hands? And yet a popular novelist like Farroway must be making a very large income, ten thousand a year at least. It all seemed to Mr Todhunter rather queer.
    No less queer was it, when the two finally strolled into the street, that Farroway should begin quite obviously and rather clumsily to pump Mr Todhunter as to his worldly circumstances. Without ever actually saying anything which could be quoted against him afterwards, Mr Todhunter amused himself by implying with much subtlety that his establishment in Richmond was just about four times as big as it really was, and his income to match, that his tastes were thoroughly expensive and even that he was not without influence in the financial world, a friend of Money Barons and a crony of Commercial Peers. Indeed, so favourable did Mr Todhunter find the opportunity for the exercise of his gift of the suggestio falso that he was in some danger of overdoing it.
    Mr Todhunter had no idea that this time the retribution which lies in wait for all practical jokers, however subtle, was grinning behind his back. In fact, had he but known it, the laugh this time was decidedly on Mr Todhunter. For if, on this one single occasion, he had failed to indulge this elfin humour of his, a great deal of subsequent trouble might have been spared him. He would indeed have actually had the peaceful end to which he was even then looking forward, instead of the far from peaceful death which was in store for him. He would never have seen the inside of a condemned cell. He would never—But there is no need to elaborate. Retribution awaited Mr Todhunter at last.
    It was a simple question of his companion’s which put the wheels of fate in motion.
    â€œAre you doing anything now?” asked Farroway.
    Mr Todhunter could not recognise his chance. There was nothing to warn him that if he replied firmly that he had an urgent appointment in the City and must leave for it at once, he might still have been saved. Instead he replied, like any other sucker falling for Destiny’s confidence trick:
    â€œNothing in particular.”
    â€œPerhaps you would come and have some tea with me? The—my flat is quite close.”
    Mr Todhunter in his foolishness saw only an opportunity for further enjoyment.
    â€œThere’s nothing I should like better,” he replied courteously.
    Just behind him Fate put away her gold brick, tucked the forged bond out of sight and stuffed the bogus balance sheet into her pocket again. The sucker had sucked.
    2
    Mr Todhunter’s first impression of Farroway’s flat was that he must have totally misjudged its owner. He looked in a puzzled way round the room in which he had been left alone. No, he would certainly never have thought Farroway the kind of man to decorate his piano with Chinese embroidery and put a hoop skirted doll over the telephone. Farroway was a small man, but he was neat and trim in a thoroughly masculine way. No one would have suspected him of such effeminate taste, and such downright bad feminine taste at that. Mr Todhunter was mildly astonished.
    The flat was really palatial. The room in which Mr Todhunter was now somewhat uneasily sitting, with its wide windows and view over the Park, would not have disgraced a country house so far as size went; and from the large hall into which the front door opened Mr Todhunter had seen two long, broad passages leading, each with half a dozen doors. The rent of such a place must be enormous. Even a popular novelist would find his resources squeezed, to fit his style of living to such surroundings.
    Meditating thus, Mr Todhunter was surprised by the return of his host, accompanied this time by a young and handsome man.
    â€œMy son-in-law,” said Farroway. “Vincent, have you had tea?”
    For some reason the young man, who looked as if he would normally have aplomb enough for a dozen,