Face to the Sun Read Free

a half-bottle of claret and an ample meal.
    At last, with a full and grateful belly, I counted the money in the wallet which came to over six hundred pounds. The next task was to buy an ordinary suitcase together with pyjamas, clean shirt
and underwear, and in another invaluable public lavatory pack into it the contents of the cricket bag, which was no longer a saviour but a clue. I deposited it in the left luggage office at
King’s Cross station, and then found a room and bath – safer and cheaper than a hotel – in the respectable neighbourhood of Gower Street.
    God, it was heaven to feel clean! Bathed and behind a locked door, I opened the two remaining jewellery cases. The first contained a curious golden disk of filigree work, attached to a golden
chain, to be worn as a pendant. It reminded me of Inca work, what little remains of it, though it was far too small, only about fourteen inches in circumference. The rays round the edge showed that
it was an image of the sun, but on the face was a circle of little golden disks. What it was I did not then know, but I sensed some mystical quality which did not spring wholly from the beauty of
the design. In the centre of the sun was a large emerald which had been clumsily added to the lovely work of the goldsmith. That told me a lot about its owner. She lacked natural taste. She could
be the wife or mistress of a multi-millionaire, possibly an industrialist, possibly a politician. The third case contained comparative trivialities: necklace and ear-rings to match the tiara. Given
the evidence of the sun, I would have been prepared to bet that the original owner or his wife or both had met the usual fate of leaders of the opposition. With the comforting thought that the lady
of the crocodile bag might have, strictly speaking, no more right to the acquisitions of another Father of his Country than I had, I slipped between spotless sheets and slept for fourteen
hours.
    I woke up in the morning very conscious of one mistake. I was faced with a problem which must be very common among professional thieves who know how to plan for its solution beforehand. I did
not like to leave my suitcase, with its cheap and unsatisfactory lock, unattended in my room. When the girl came in to clear away the breakfast things and make the bed she found me just sitting in
my new pyjamas and doing absolutely nothing.
    She asked if I had anything to send to the wash, and I replied that when I had unpacked I would sort it out. That sounded as if I had quite a lot of dirty linen left from travel.
    ‘And if you would like your suit dry-cleaned, it will be back by this evening.’
    ‘Does it look shabby?’ I asked.
    ‘Well, not exactly shabby, but it does look as if you had been on a long journey.’
    This wouldn’t do at all. I was slightly suspect. I guessed that she had been prompted by the proprietress to find out whether the suitcase was full of clothes or empty. There was nothing
for it but to re-equip myself from top to toe, then pack what I was wearing plus a few extras and leave my one piece of baggage unlocked.
    Meanwhile, what was I to do with the three jewellery cases which would not fit in any of my pockets? The laundry bag was the obvious answer. If they found it temporarily missing from the
bathroom they could think what they bloody well pleased.
    What was certain was that I had to economise until I could lay my hands on the reward. At least another £150 had to be spent. When I had found the £600 in the black crocodile bag I
was nearly crazy with relief for it seemed to me that my troubles were at an end. They were not; they were just beginning. I was sitting on a vast sum of capital which I dared not use. All
jewellers and pawnbrokers would have been warned to look out for those unmistakeable treasures.
    I dressed, put the black bag and its contents into the laundry bag and started off to the shops. My first purchase was a largeish briefcase with a formidable lock to