Luck of the Bodkins Read Free

sort of thing, had very properly motioned him away with a gesture and gone off to get a second opinion.
    His reception, on presenting his little difficulty to this new audience, occasioned him a certain surprise. It would not be too much to say that he was taken aback. He had never been introduced to Mr Llewellyn, and he was aware that many people object to being addressed by strangers, but he could not help feeling a little astonished at the stare of horrified loathing with which the other greeted him as he turned. He had not seen anything like it since the day, years ago, when his Uncle Percy, who collected old china, had come into the drawing-room and found him balancing a Ming vase on his chin.
    The female, fortunately, appeared calmer. Monty liked her looks. A small, neat brunette, with nice grey eyes. 'What,' she inquired, 'would that be, once again?' ‘I want to spell "sciatica".' 'Well, go on,' said Mabel Spence indulgently. 'But I don't know how to.'
    ‘I see. Well, unless the New Deal has changed it, it ought to be s-c-i-a-t-i-c-a.' 'Do you mind if I write that down? ’ ‘I’ d prefer it.'
    '. . . -t-i-c-a. Right. Thanks,' said Monty warmly. 'Thanks awfully. I thought as much. That ass of a waiter was pulling my leg. All that rot about "with a ess, with a tay, with a arr", I mean to say. Even I knew there wasn't an "r" in it. Thanks. Thanks frightfully. ’
    'Not at all. Any other words you are interested in? I could do you "parallelogram" or "metempsychosis", if you wished, and Ikey here is a wizard at anything under two syllables. No? Just as you say.'
    She watched him with a kindly eye as he crossed the terrace, then, turning to her brother-in-law, became aware that he was apparently in the throes of an emotional crisis. His eyes were bulging more than ever, and he had produced a handkerchief and was mopping his face with it.
    'Something the matter?' she asked.
    It was not immediately that Mr Llewellyn found speech. When he did. the speech he found was crisp and to the point. 'Listen!' he said hoarsely. 'It's off!' 'What's off?'
    'That necklace. I'm not going to touch it ’
    'Oh, Ikey, for goodness' sake!'
    That's all right, "Oh, Ikey, for goodness' sake." That guy heard what we were saying.' 'I don't think so.' ‘ I do.'
    'Well, what of it?'
    Mr Llewellyn snorted, but in an undertone, as if the shadow of Monty still brooded over him. He was much shaken.
    'What of it? You forgotten what I told you about these Customs people having their spies everywhere? That bird's one of them.'
    'Oh, be yourself.'
    'That's a lot of use, saying "Be myself".'
    ‘ I admit it's an awful thing to ask you to be.'
    'Think you're smart, don't you?' said Mr Llewellyn, piqued.
    'I know I'm smart.'
    'Not smart enough to understand the first thing about the way these Customs people work. A hotel like this is just the place where they would plant a spy.'
    'Why?'
    'Why? Because they know there would be certain to be some damn-fool woman coming along sooner or later shouting out at the top of her voice about smuggling necklaces.'
    'You were the one who was shouting.'
    'I was not.'
    'Oh, well, let it go. What does it matter? That fellow wasn't a Customs spy.' 'I tell you he was.' 'He didn't look like one.'
    'So you're so dumb you think a spy looks like a spy, are you? Why, darn it, the first thing he does is to see that he doesn't look like a spy. He sits up nights, studying. If that guy wasn't a spy, what was he doing listening in on us? Why was he there?'
    'He wanted to know how to spell "sciatica", ’ ‘ Pshaw!'
    'Must you say "Pshaw"?'
    'Why wouldn't I say "Pshaw"?' demanded Mr Llewellyn, with an obvious sense of grievance. 'What on earth would a man - at twelve o'clock on a summer morning in the South of France - want to spell "sciatica" for? He saw we had seen him, and he had to say the first thing he could think of. Well, this lets me out. If Grayce imagines after this that I'm going to so much as look at that necklace of hers,