Before the Fact by Francis Iles Page A

about any American.” Lina was perturbed already. Johnnie looked oddly guilty, in spite of his smile. And the way he was holding her made her suspicious. Johnnie always embraced her when he had to admit to something he should not have done.
    She looked up at him without returning his smile.
    “Why, that American who came back with me a week or two ago, when you were out. The one who was so interested in those chairs. Didn’t I tell you? I thought I had. I meant to. Well, he came over this afternoon, and—”
    “Weren’t you at Bradstowe this afternoon?”
    “No, I came back after lunch; there was nothing to do. But listen, darling. This fellow, this American – you wouldn’t believe how keen he was on those chairs. He offered me a deuce of a lot for them: more than they were valued at, for the insurance. Of course,” said Johnnie virtuously, “I told him I couldn’t think of selling them. So what did he do? Damn it, monkeyface, he pretty nearly doubled his offer. It would have been madness not to take it.”
    “Johnnie – you
didn’t
sell them?”
    “Darling, I tell you: it would have been madness not to, at the price he offered.”
    “Let me go. No, Johnnie, let me go.” Lina pushed with her hands against Johnnie’s chest, so that he had to release her.
    “Look here, monkeyface, you’re not cross, surely? Honestly, darling, it would have been—”
    “But you couldn’t sell them. They weren’t yours to sell. They were mine.”
    “Oh, hang it all, sweetheart, I know that, technically, they were yours. But – well, I mean—”
    “They
are
mine,” Lina said violently. “And I don’t want to sell them. I don’t care what your American offered. I won’t sell them. Where are they?”
    “Why, he took them away. In his car.”
    “Then you’ll have to get them back.”
    “But, dearest, do be reasonable. I don’t know where he’s gone. I don’t know anything about him.”
    “I don’t care,” said Lina, breathing quickly. “You’ll have to find out, that’s all. I won’t sell those chairs, so you’ve got to get them back.”
    Johnnie tried to take her in his arms again. “Darling!”
    “No, I mean it. No, don’t, Johnnie. I’m very angry with you. You had no right to sell them without asking me.
    Johnnie looked extremely crestfallen. “I only thought I was doing you a good turn.”
    “Yes, I know all about that. Don’t do me any good turns like that in future. Well, I suppose you’d better give me the money. I’ll keep it to give back to him when you’ve got the chairs again.”
    “I haven’t got it,” Johnnie said quickly. “He’s going to send the cheque on.”
    Lina stared at him. “What? You don’t know where he’s gone or anything about him, and yet you trusted him to send the cheque on?”
    “Oh, he’s all right. Absolutely all right. I mean, he’s a friend of Melbeck’s. And in any case, we could always get him through the American embassy. He just hadn’t got his cheque book on him. Hang it, darling, one must trust people occasionally. He’ll send it on all right.”
    “He’d better.”
    “Monkeyface!”
    “Well?”
    “Not really cross with me, are you?”
    “Yes, Johnnie, I am. Really.” But Johnnie was looking so penitent that Lina had to let her expression relax.
    Johnnie was on to it at once, and caught her to him. “My darling, you’re not. Not any more. I’m terribly sorry. I thought you’d be so pleased.”
    He looked so disappointed that Lina had to forgive him altogether.
    “But mind you,” she said, under his kisses, “I hold you responsible for getting them back, Johnnie.”
    “I’ll get them back,” Johnnie promised with fervour, “if I have to chase him over to America for them.”
4
    But Johnnie did not get them back.
    The American, it seemed, had simply vanished. Nor did he send the cheque. Johnnie was most upset about it, but what could one do?
    “Go to the police,” said Lina, some three weeks later. “We ought to have