The Luminaries

papers.’
    ‘I’d hardly call them “papers”,’ said Mrs. Wells, laughing slightly.
    ‘What else?’
    ‘Oh—you make it sound so grand, that’s all.’
    ‘My miner’s right. That’s a paper.’
    ‘What need could you possibly have for your miner’s right?’
    He was scowling. ‘What is this—a royal inquisition?’
    ‘Of course not.’
    ‘It’s what they are,’ said Wells. ‘Papers. And there’s a letter in there I’d like to read over.’
    ‘Oh, come,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘You must have read that thing a thousand times, Crosbie. Even I know its every phrasing by heart! “
Dear Boy—you do not know me
—”’
    Wells brought his fist down on the table, causing all of the crockery to jump. ‘Shut your mouth,’ he said.
    ‘Crosbie!’ said Mrs. Wells, in shock.
    ‘There’s sport and then there’s sporting,’ said Wells. ‘You just crossed over.’
    For a moment, it seemed as though Mrs. Wells were about to make a retort, but she thought better of it. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, regaining composure. ‘Forgive me,’ she said.
    ‘Forgiveness doesn’t cut it. I want the key.’
    She tried to laugh again. ‘Really, Crosbie; today is not the day. Not with the naval party this evening—and so much to organise. Let us put it off until to-morrow. We can sit down together, you and me—’
    ‘I’m not putting it off until to-morrow,’ said Wells. ‘Give me the key.’
    She rose from the table. ‘I’m afraid you’ve heard my final word on the matter,’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’
    ‘Excuse
me
—I’m afraid
you
haven’t heard
mine
,’ said Wells. He pushed his chair back from the table and rose also. ‘Where is it—on your necklace?’
    She edged around the table away from him. ‘In actual fact, it is in a safe box at the bank,’ she said. ‘I don’t keep a copy at home. If you wait just a—’
    ‘Rot,’ said Wells. ‘It’s on your necklace.’
    She took another step away from him, seeming, for the first time, alarmed. ‘Please, Crosbie; don’t cause a scene.’
    He advanced upon her. ‘Give it.’
    She tried to smile, but her mouth trembled. ‘Crosbie,’ she said again, ‘be reasonable. We have—’
    ‘Give it to me.’
    ‘You are causing a scene.’
    ‘I’ll cause a bigger scene than this. Give it up.’
    She tried to make for the door, but he was too fast: his hands shot out, and grabbed her. She twisted her body away—and for a moment they struggled—and then Wells, scrabbling with one hand at her bodice, found what he was looking for: a thin silver chain, from which a fat silver key was dangling. He wrenched it out, gathering the key in his fist, and tried to snap the chain. It tore at her neck, and would not break: she cried out. He tried again, more sharply. She was beating his chest with her fists. Grunting, he fought to restrain her, still with the chain wrapped around his fist. He tore at her neck again. ‘Crosbie,’ she gasped, ‘
Crosbie
.’ At last it broke, and the key was in his hand; she gave a sob. At once he turned, panting slightly, and went to the safe. He fitted the key into the lock, rattling the handle several times before the mechanism clicked, and then the heavy door swung open.
    The safe was empty.
    ‘Where’s my money?’ said Crosbie Wells.
    Mrs. Wells swayed, her hands cupped around her neck. Her eyes were filled with tears. ‘If you calm down just a moment,’ she said, ‘I can explain.’
    ‘Who needs calming?’ said Wells. ‘I asked a simple question, that’s all. Where’s my bonanza?’
    ‘Now, Crosbie, listen,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘I can get it back—the bonanza. I only put it away for a while. Somewhere safe. I can get it back for you, but not until to-morrow. All right? Tonight there area great many distinguished gentlemen coming to the house, and I haven’t the time to—to go to—to where I’ve hidden it. There’s just too much to do.’
    ‘Where are my papers?’ said Wells. ‘My miner’s right. My birth certificate. The letter from my father.’
    ‘They’re with the bonanza.’
    ‘Are they, now. And where is that?’
    ‘I can’t tell you.’
    ‘Why not, Mrs. Wells?’
    ‘It’s complicated,’ she said.
    ‘I would imagine it is.’
    ‘I can get them back for you.’
    ‘Can you?’
    ‘To-morrow. After the party.’
    ‘Why not today? Why not this morning?’
    ‘You can stop hectoring me,’ she said, flaring up. ‘I simply can’t manage it today. You’ll have to wait