Bertie Saves the Day

"Exactly, sir."

"So he could have been, I believe the phrase in criminal circles is 'planted'?"

"It is a distinct possibility, sir."

"And that he is Polish?"

"I believe Laurence translates as Ladislaw, sir," Reeves said.

"And his surname?"

"I believe it is Mendelssohn, sir."

"By George, Reeves," Bertie cried. "I know who the thief might be! I must go to Sir FitzAlan at once!"

"Might I counsel you incur a very short delay, sir?"

"Dash it all, Reeves," Bertie said irritably. "Why?"

"Because if your suspicions are correct, it would be appropriate to air them at the end of the evening's recital by Lady Constance's guest, by which time I shall be able to obtain the answer to a particular question from the butler who is too busy supervising the dinner arrangements to provide an answer at this moment."

"Reeves, I do believe you are a genius," Bertie said, handing his valet his empty glass and making for the bathroom to cogitate on how best to present the evidence to the assembled throng.

*

Dinner was a regrettably subdued affair which was unfortunate given that Sir FitzAlan and Lady Constance were wished well by everyone present when the customary champagne had been opened and short speeches made wishing the couple every happiness for the future. Bertie, looking dashing in his exquisitely tailored evening clothes, made a fine partner for Honoria who appeared to be quite nude beneath her sheer Parisian evening gown, her magnificent bosom almost entirely on display, thus causing the usual customary tightness in Bertie's lower trouser area as his penis erected.

It was just as the servants were refilling the glasses and the piano recital was about to start, Simeon Bartholdy having informed his hostess that he had to return to London that evening to be able to spend the following morning rehearsing for a recital at the Wigmore Hall, that Reeves discreetly whispered something in Bertie's ear who promptly stepped forward and rapped the edge of a knife on his champagne flute, drawing everyone's attention.

"If I might take just a moment?" he said loudly.

"Really, Mr. Brewster," Lady Constance said with considerable asperity. "Mr. Bartholdy's time is precious and he is ready to play."

"Bertie!" hissed Honoria, which rather disconcerted him because he expected her to understand he would only have stepped forward if he was confident of the importance of his statement.

"Sir FitzAlan, I would like to request that the bag in which Mr. Bartholdy carries his music be searched."

"Mr. Brewster, have you gone mad?" Lady Constance said, her annoyance turning to quiet fury.

"It can't hurt, my dear," Sir FitzAlan said as he stepped forward and asked in a firm voice, "Mr. Bartholdy?"

The pianist handed over the bag.

Sir FitzAlan looked inside and pronounced, "Nothing."

"Bertie, darling!" Honoria pleaded, obviously desperate for the interrogation to cease.

"And now, General Glossop," Bertie said. "The piano stool if you will?"

Again Sir FitzAlan moved forward and this time the pianist cooperated with a good deal less willingness. The general opened the lid and there, clearly visible, was a bag made of purple velvet. Sir FitzAlan picked it up and extracted his wife's diamond necklace.

"Well, bless my soul, Brewster," the general said. "How on earth -?"

"I am, as you know, not a devotee of classical music," Bertie said with quiet satisfaction. "But I know that Mr. Bartholdy is the foremost exponent of the music of Felix Mendelssohn. Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy which is both his, and his son, the houseboy Ladislaw Mendelssohn's, full name. And I have been informed that it was our honored guest who provided the necessary references for young Laurence's employment in this household. Putting two and two together was alimentary."

"That's elementary, Bertie, darling," Honoria purred in his ear and Bertie smiled, unconcerned, knowing for a certainty she would not be troubled by a headache when, later that evening, she joined him in his bed.

End.