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"You suspect your granddaughter, don't you?" I said in a low firm voice, watching her closely as I spoke. "I'm afraid I do," she sighed, "But I can't be sure." "What makes you suspect Mayfield?" Lady Strowan was silent for a moment, then she spoke in a quiet little voice. "She knows where I keep my necklace. She even asked to see it only a few months ago. To tell you the truth, I had almost forgotten about it myself. It took me some minutes to remember where I had stored it." "But you did show her the necklace?" "Yes. She even tried it on. And it did look lovely on her. I did think about giving it to her, but I could not bear to part with it. Too many memories." "And you put it away again afterwards, in the same hiding-place?" Lady Westwood nodded. "Well why don't you just send Tibbermore to ask her to visit you, just like you got him to invite me here?" I enquired, "Then you could ask her about it yourself." "She only visits infrequently. Not even every year," Lady Westwood said, her voice low, "She spends most of her time on the surface." "Ah, I see." I did indeed see. We Goblins have lived in these underground caverns for millennia. We are of course well aware of the antics of the humans on the surface. A basic knowledge of the world of men is taught in school, for example. But most Goblins have never visited the upper world and many are terrified at the prospect. It was probable that Tibbermore was one of those petrified by the open sky, quite possibly to the point of catatonia. But a few oddballs are undeterred by the open sky and choose to reside on the surface. It's not illegal to visit, although it is something that convention frowns upon. But, with suitable precautions, it's certainly possible to set up a residence without incurring the wrath of the Goblin authorities. And, yes, I am one of those oddballs. Over the years, I have undertaken any number of expeditions to the surface world and, while I'm not entirely comfortable up there, I can at least function adequately. And I have had plenty of opportunity to practice my disguise as a human. So this would have been the factor which recommended me to Lady Westwood. "So, to be clear," I asked, "You want me to visit your granddaughter, somewhere on the surface and ask her nicely to return your jewels?" "I do," she said flatly, "Tibbermore will give you the address." "And if she refuses? Or denies she has taken them?" She looked flustered. "Ask her again. Plead with her. Tell her I'm begging her to return them. Or come here and convince me that she didn't take it." "No firmer persuasion?" Lady Westwood look shocked at the mere suggestion. "Certainly not," she insisted, "She is my granddaughter and I am very fond of her. I'm sure there must be some reasonable explanation. I just want her to come and tell me what it is." The rest of the evening passed swiftly. Lady Westwood appeared not to have any more germane information to assist the enquiry, even though I probed a little more about her relationship with her granddaughter and her other family members. It seemed that she had fallen out with her daughter many years ago and they were no longer on speaking terms, and it was only Mayfield's own rebelliousness that had prompted her to get in touch with Grandma. Between times, I enjoyed an excellent dinner with many courses and slightly too much wine, although I ate and drank at least four times as much as she did. While I filled my stomach, Strowan entertained me with stories of her life in the theatre, which she promised were at least ninety percent true. I couldn't judge their truthfulness, but they were certainly highly amusing.
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Part 7