The Quince Tree

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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"I've just been to see old Betsy Mullen," announcedVera to her aunt, Mrs. Bebberly Cumble; "she seems inrather a bad way about her rent. She owes about fifteenweeks of it, and says she doesn't know where any of it isto come from.""Betsy Mullen always is in difficulties with herrent, and the more people help her with it the less shetroubles about it," said the aunt. "I certainly am notgoing to assist her any more. The fact is, she will haveto go into a smaller and cheaper cottage; there areseveral to be had at the other end of the village forhalf the rent that she is paying, or supposed to bepaying, now. I told her a year ago that she ought tomove.""But she wouldn't get such a nice garden anywhereelse," protested Vera, "and there's such a jolly quincetree in the corner. I don't suppose there's anotherquince tree in the whole parish. And she never makes anyquince jam; I think to have a quince tree and not to makequince jam shows such strength of character. Oh, shecan't possibly move away from that garden.""When one is sixteen," said Mrs. Bebberly Cumbleseverely, "one talks of things being impossible which aremerely uncongenial. It is not only possible but it isdesirable that Betsy Mullen should move into smallerquarters; she has scarcely enough furniture to fill thatbig cottage.""As far as value goes," said Vera after a shortpause, "there is more in Betsy's cottage than in anyother house for miles round.""Nonsense," said the aunt; "she parted with whateverold china ware she had long ago.""I'm not talking about anything that belongs toBetsy herself," said Vera darkly; "but, of course, youdon't know what I know, and I don't suppose I ought totell you.""You must tell me at once," exclaimed the aunt, hersenses leaping into alertness like those of a terriersuddenly exchanging a bored drowsiness for the livelyanticipation of an immediate rat hunt."I'm perfectly certain that I oughtn't to tell youanything about it," said Vera, "but, then, I often dothings that I oughtn't to do.""I should be the last person to suggest that youshould do anything that you ought not to do to - " beganMrs. Bebberly Cumble impressively."And I am always swayed by the last person whospeaks to me," admitted Vera, "so I'll do what I oughtnot to do and tell you."Mrs. Bebberley Cumble thrust a very pardonable senseof exasperation into the background of her mind anddemanded impatiently:"What is there in Betsy Mullen's cottage that youare making such a fuss about?""It's hardly fair to say that I've made a fuss aboutit," said Vera; "this is the first time I've mentionedthe matter, but there's been no end of trouble andmystery and newspaper speculation about it. It's ratheramusing to think of the columns of conjecture in thePress and the police and detectives hunting abouteverywhere at home and abroad, and all the while thatinnocent-looking little cottage has held the secret.""You don't mean to say it's the Louvre picture, LaSomething or other, the woman with the smile, thatdisappeared about two years ago?" exclaimed the aunt withrising excitement."Oh no, not that," said Vera, "but something quiteas important and just as mysterious - if anything, rathermore scandalous.""Not the Dublin - ?"Vera nodded."The whole jolly lot of them.""In Betsy's cottage? Incredible!""Of course Betsy hasn't an idea as to what theyare," said Vera; "she just knows that they are somethingvaluable and that she must keep quiet about them. Ifound out quite by accident what they were and how theycame to be there. You see, the people who had them wereat their wits' end to know where to stow them away forsafe keeping, and some one who was motoring through thevillage was struck by the snug loneliness of the cottageand thought it would be just the thing. Mrs. Lamperarranged the matter with Betsy and smuggled the thingsin.""Mrs. Lamper?""Yes; she does a lot of district visiting, youknow.""I am quite aware that she takes soup and flanneland improving literature to the poorer cottagers," saidMrs. Bebberly Cumble, "but that is hardly the same sortof thing as disposing of stolen goods, and she must haveknown something about their history; anyone who reads thepapers, even casually, must have been aware of the theft,and I should think the things were not hard to recognise.Mrs. Lamper has always had the reputation of being a veryconscientious woman.""Of course she was screening some one else," saidVera. "A remarkable feature of the affair is theextraordinary number of quite respectable people who haveinvolved themselves in its meshes by trying to shieldothers. You would be really astonished if you knew someof the names of the individuals mixed up in it, and Idon't suppose a tithe of them know who the originalculprits were; and now I've got you entangled in the messby letting you into the secret of the cottage.""You most certainly have not entangled me," saidMrs. Bebberly Cumble indignantly. "I have no intentionof shielding anybody. The police must know about it atonce; a theft is a theft, whoever is involved. Ifrespectable people choose to turn themselves intoreceivers and disposers of stolen goods, well, they'veceased to be respectable, that's all. I shall telephoneimmediately - ""Oh, aunt," said Vera reproachfully, "it would breakthe poor Canon's heart if Cuthbert were to be involved ina scandal of this sort. You know it would.""Cuthbert involved! How can you say such thingswhen you know how much we all think of him?""Of course I know you think a lot of him, and thathe's engaged to marry Beatrice, and that it will be afrightfully good match, and that he's your ideal of whata son-in-law ought to be. All the same, it wasCuthbert's idea to stow the things away in the cottage,and it was his motor that brought them. He was onlydoing it to help his friend Pegginson, you know - theQuaker man, who is always agitating for a smaller Navy.I forget how he got involved in it. I warned you thatthere were lots of quite respectable people mixed up init, didn't I? That's what I meant when I said it wouldbe impossible for old Betsy to leave the cottage; thethings take up a good bit of room, and she couldn't gocarrying them about with her other goods and chattelswithout attracting notice. Of course if she were to fallill and die it would be equally unfortunate. Her motherlived to be over ninety, she tells me, so with due careand an absence of worry she ought to last for anotherdozen years at least. By that time perhaps some otherarrangements will have been made for disposing of thewretched things.""I shall speak to Cuthbert about it - after thewedding," said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble."The wedding isn't till next year," said Vera, inrecounting the story to her best girl friend, "andmeanwhile old Betsy is living rent free, with soup twicea week and my aunt's doctor to see her whenever she has afinger ache.""But how on earth did you get to know about it all?"asked her friend, in admiring wonder."It was a mystery - " said Vera."Of course it was a mystery, a mystery that baffledeverybody. What beats me is how you found out - ""Oh, about the jewels? I invented that part,"explained Vera; "I mean the mystery was where old Betsy'sarrears of rent were to come from; and she would havehated leaving that jolly quince tree."

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