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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9e8321 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53341 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53341) diff --git a/old/53341-0.txt b/old/53341-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a4e7461..0000000 --- a/old/53341-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6600 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dorrington Deed-Box, by Arthur Morrison - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Dorrington Deed-Box - -Author: Arthur Morrison - -Illustrator: Stanley Wood - -Release Date: October 22, 2016 [EBook #53341] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX *** - - - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: "MR. LOFTUS DEACON LAY IN A POOL OF BLOOD" (_p. 209_).] - - - - - THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX - - - - - THE - - DORRINGTON DEED-BOX - - BY - - ARTHUR MORRISON - - AUTHOR OF - - "A CHILD OF THE JAGO," "TALES OF MEAN STREETS," - "MARTIN HEWITT: INVESTIGATOR," ETC. - - _ILLUSTRATED_. - - LONDON: - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, - - WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. - NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - I. THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY 1 - - II. THE CASE OF JANISSARY 53 - - III. THE CASE OF THE "MIRROR OF PORTUGAL" 101 - - IV. THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED" 151 - - V. THE CASE OF MR. LOFTUS DEACON 199 - - VI. OLD CATER'S MONEY 255 - - - - - _THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY_ - - - - -THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX - - - - -I - -The Narrative of Mr. James Rigby - - -I shall here set down in language as simple and straightforward as I -can command, the events which followed my recent return to England; -and I shall leave it to others to judge whether or not my conduct has -been characterised by foolish fear and ill-considered credulity. At -the same time I have my own opinion as to what would have been the -behaviour of any other man of average intelligence and courage in the -same circumstances; more especially a man of my exceptional upbringing -and retired habits. - -I was born in Australia, and I have lived there all my life till quite -recently, save for a single trip to Europe as a boy, in company with -my father and mother. It was then that I lost my father. I was less -than nine years old at the time, but my memory of the events of that -European trip is singularly vivid. - -My father had emigrated to Australia at the time of his marriage, and -had become a rich man by singularly fortunate speculations in land in -and about Sydney. As a family we were most uncommonly self-centred and -isolated. From my parents I never heard a word as to their relatives -in England; indeed to this day I do not as much as know what was -the Christian name of my grandfather. I have often supposed that -some serious family quarrel or great misfortune must have preceded -or accompanied my father's marriage. Be that as it may, I was never -able to learn anything of my relatives, either on my mother's or my -father's side. Both parents, however, were educated people, and indeed -I fancy that their habit of seclusion must first have arisen from -this circumstance, since the colonists about them in the early days, -excellent people as they were, were not as a class distinguished for -extreme intellectual culture. My father had his library stocked from -England, and added to by fresh arrivals from time to time; and among -his books he would pass most of his days, taking, however, now and -again an excursion with a gun in search of some new specimen to add to -his museum of natural history, which occupied three long rooms in our -house by the Lane Cove river. - -I was, as I have said, eight years of age when I started with my -parents on a European tour, and it was in the year 1873. We stayed but -a short while in England at first arrival, intending to make a longer -stay on our return from the Continent. We made our tour, taking Italy -last, and it was here that my father encountered a dangerous adventure. - -We were at Naples, and my father had taken an odd fancy for a -picturesque-looking ruffian who had attracted his attention by a -complexion unusually fair for an Italian, and in whom he professed to -recognise a likeness to Tasso the poet. This man became his guide in -excursions about the neighbourhood of Naples, though he was not one -of the regular corps of guides, and indeed seemed to have no regular -occupation of a definite sort. "Tasso," as my father always called him, -seemed a civil fellow enough, and was fairly intelligent; but my mother -disliked him extremely from the first, without being able to offer any -very distinct reason for her aversion. In the event her instinct was -proved true. - -[Illustration: HIS ASSAILANT FELL DEAD.] - -"Tasso"--his correct name, by the way, was Tommaso Marino--persuaded -my father that something interesting was to be seen at the Astroni -crater, four miles west of the city, or thereabout; persuaded him, -moreover, to make the journey on foot; and the two accordingly set -out. All went well enough till the crater was reached, and then, in -a lonely and broken part of the hill, the guide suddenly turned and -attacked my father with a knife, his intention, without a doubt, being -murder and the acquisition of the Englishman's valuables. Fortunately -my father had a hip-pocket with a revolver in it, for he had been -warned of the danger a stranger might at that time run wandering in -the country about Naples. He received a wound in the flesh of his -left arm in an attempt to ward off a stab, and fired, at wrestling -distance, with the result that his assailant fell dead on the spot. He -left the place with all speed, tying up his arm as he went, sought the -British consul at Naples, and informed him of the whole circumstances. -From the authorities there was no great difficulty. An examination or -two, a few signatures, some particular exertions on the part of -the consul, and my father was free, so far as the officers of the law -were concerned. But while these formalities were in progress no less -than three attempts were made on his life--two by the knife and one by -shooting--and in each his escape was little short of miraculous. For -the dead ruffian, Marino, had been a member of the dreaded Camorra, and -the Camorristi were eager to avenge his death. To anybody acquainted -with the internal history of Italy--more particularly the history of -the old kingdom of Naples--the name of the Camorra will be familiar -enough. It was one of the worst and most powerful of the many powerful -and evil secret societies of Italy, and had none of the excuses for -existence which have been from time to time put forward on behalf of -the others. It was a gigantic club for the commission of crime and -the extortion of money. So powerful was it that it actually imposed a -regular tax on all food material entering Naples--a tax collected and -paid with far more regularity than were any of the taxes due to the -lawful Government of the country. The carrying of smuggled goods was -a monopoly of the Camorra, a perfect organisation existing for the -purpose throughout the kingdom. The whole population was terrorised -by this detestable society, which had no less than twelve centres in -the city of Naples alone. It contracted for the commission of crime -just as systematically and calmly as a railway company contracts -for the carriage of merchandise. A murder was so much, according -to circumstances, with extras for disposing of the body; arson was -dealt in profitably; maimings and kidnappings were carried out with -promptitude and despatch; and any diabolical outrage imaginable was a -mere matter of price. One of the staple vocations of the concern was of -course brigandage. After the coming of Victor Emanuel and the fusion -of Italy into one kingdom the Camorra lost some of its power, but for -a long time gave considerable trouble. I have heard that in the year -after the matters I am describing two hundred Camorristi were banished -from Italy. - -As soon as the legal forms were complied with, my father received -the broadest possible official hint that the sooner and the more -secretly he left the country the better it would be for himself and -his family. The British consul, too, impressed it upon him that the -law would be entirely unable to protect him against the machinations -of the Camorra; and indeed it needed but little persuasion to induce -us to leave, for my poor mother was in a state of constant terror lest -we were murdered together in our hotel; so that we lost no time in -returning to England and bringing our European trip to a close. - -In London we stayed at a well-known private hotel near Bond Street. We -had been but three days here when my father came in one evening with a -firm conviction that he had been followed for something like two hours, -and followed very skilfully too. More than once he had doubled suddenly -with a view to confront the pursuers, who he felt were at his heels, -but he had met nobody of a suspicious appearance. The next afternoon I -heard my mother telling my governess (who was travelling with us) of an -unpleasant-looking man, who had been hanging about opposite the hotel -door, and who, she felt sure, had afterwards been following her and my -father as they were walking. My mother grew nervous, and communicated -her fears to my father. He, however, pooh-poohed the thing, and took -little thought of its meaning. Nevertheless the dogging continued, and -my father, who was never able to fix upon the persons who caused the -annoyance--indeed he rather felt their presence by instinct, as one -does in such cases, than otherwise--grew extremely angry, and had some -idea of consulting the police. Then one morning my mother discovered -a little paper label stuck on the outside of the door of the bedroom -occupied by herself and my father. It was a small thing, circular, and -about the size of a sixpenny-piece, or even smaller, but my mother was -quite certain that it had not been there when she last entered the door -the night before, and she was much terrified. For the label carried a -tiny device, drawn awkwardly in ink--a pair of knives of curious shape, -crossed: the sign of the Camorra. - -Nobody knew anything of this label, or how it came where it had been -found. My mother urged my father to place himself under the protection -of the police at once, but he delayed. Indeed, I fancy he had a -suspicion that the label might be the production of some practical -joker staying at the hotel who had heard of his Neapolitan adventure -(it was reported in many newspapers) and designed to give him a fright. -But that very evening my poor father was found dead, stabbed in a -dozen places, in a short, quiet street not forty yards from the hotel. -He had merely gone out to buy a few cigars of a particular brand which -he fancied, at a shop two streets away, and in less than half an hour -of his departure the police were at the hotel door with the news of his -death, having got his address from letters in his pockets. - -It is no part of my present design to enlarge on my mother's grief, or -to describe in detail the incidents that followed my father's death, -for I am going back to this early period of my life merely to make more -clear the bearings of what has recently happened to myself. It will -be sufficient therefore to say that at the inquest the jury returned -a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown; -that it was several times reported that the police had obtained a most -important clue, and that being so, very naturally there was never any -arrest. We returned to Sydney, and there I grew up. - -I should perhaps have mentioned ere this that my profession--or I -should rather say my hobby--is that of an artist. Fortunately or -unfortunately, as you may please to consider it, I have no need to -follow any profession as a means of livelihood, but since I was -sixteen years of age my whole time has been engrossed in drawing and -painting. Were it not for my mother's invincible objection to parting -with me, even for the shortest space of time, I should long ago have -come to Europe to work and to study in the regular schools. As it was -I made shift to do my best in Australia, and wandered about pretty -freely, struggling with the difficulties of moulding into artistic form -the curious Australian landscape. There is an odd, desolate, uncanny -note in characteristic Australian scenery, which most people are apt to -regard as of little value for the purposes of the landscape painter, -but with which I have always been convinced that an able painter could -do great things. So I did my feeble best. - -Two years ago my mother died. My age was then twenty-eight, and I was -left without a friend in the world, and, so far as I know, without a -relative. I soon found it impossible any longer to inhabit the large -house by the Lane Cove river. It was beyond my simple needs, and the -whole thing was an embarrassment, to say nothing of the associations -of the house with my dead mother, which exercised a painful and -depressing effect on me. So I sold the house, and cut myself adrift. -For a year or more I pursued the life of a lonely vagabond in New -South Wales, painting as well as I could its scattered forests of -magnificent trees, with their curious upturned foliage. Then, miserably -dissatisfied with my performance, and altogether filled with a restless -spirit, I determined to quit the colony and live in England, or at -any rate somewhere in Europe. I would paint at the Paris schools, I -promised myself, and acquire that technical mastery of my material that -I now felt the lack of. - -The thing was no sooner resolved on than begun. I instructed my -solicitors in Sydney to wind up my affairs and to communicate with -their London correspondents in order that, on my arrival in England, -I might deal with business matters through them. I had more than half -resolved to transfer all my property to England, and to make the old -country my permanent headquarters; and in three weeks from the date -of my resolve I had started. I carried with me the necessary letters -of introduction to the London solicitors, and the deeds appertaining -to certain land in South Australia, which my father had bought just -before his departure on the fatal European trip. There was workable -copper in this land, it had since been ascertained, and I believed I -might profitably dispose of the property to a company in London. - -I found myself to some extent out of my element on board a great -passenger steamer. It seemed no longer possible for me in the constant -association of shipboard to maintain that reserve which had become with -me a second nature. But so much had it become my nature that I shrank -ridiculously from breaking it, for, grown man as I was, it must be -confessed that I was absurdly shy, and indeed I fear little better than -an overgrown schoolboy in my manner. But somehow I was scarce a day at -sea before falling into a most pleasant acquaintanceship with another -passenger, a man of thirty-eight or forty, whose name was Dorrington. -He was a tall, well-built fellow, rather handsome, perhaps, except for -a certain extreme roundness of face and fulness of feature; he had a -dark military moustache, and carried himself erect, with a swing as of -a cavalryman, and his eyes had, I think, the most penetrating quality -I ever saw. His manners were extremely engaging, and he was the only -good talker I had ever met. He knew everybody, and had been everywhere. -His fund of illustration and anecdote was inexhaustible, and during -all my acquaintance with him I never heard him tell the same story -twice. Nothing could happen--not a bird could fly by the ship, not a -dish could be put on the table, but Dorrington was ready with a pungent -remark and the appropriate anecdote. And he never bored nor wearied -one. With all his ready talk he never appeared unduly obtrusive nor -in the least egotistic. Mr. Horace Dorrington was altogether the most -charming person I had ever met. Moreover we discovered a community of -taste in cigars. - -"By the way," said Dorrington to me one magnificent evening as we -leaned on the rail and smoked, "Rigby isn't a very common name in -Australia, is it? I seem to remember a case, twenty years ago or more, -of an Australian gentleman of that name being very badly treated -in London--indeed, now I think of it, I'm not sure that he wasn't -murdered. Ever hear anything of it?" - -"Yes," I said, "I heard a great deal, unfortunately. He was my father, -and he _was_ murdered." - -"Your father? There--I'm awfully sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have -mentioned it; but of course I didn't know." - -"Oh," I replied, "that's all right. It's so far back now that I don't -mind speaking about it. It was a very extraordinary thing altogether." -And then, feeling that I owed Dorrington a story of some sort, after -listening to the many he had been telling me, I described to him the -whole circumstances of my father's death. - -"Ah," said Dorrington when I had finished, "I have heard of the Camorra -before this--I know a thing or two about it, indeed. As a matter of -fact it still exists; not quite the widespread and open thing it once -was, of course, and much smaller; but pretty active in a quiet way, -and pretty mischievous. They were a mighty bad lot, those Camorristi. -Personally I'm rather surprised that you heard no more of them. They -were the sort of people who would rather any day murder three people -than one, and their usual idea of revenge went a good way beyond the -mere murder of the offending party; they had a way of including his -wife and family, and as many relatives as possible. But at any rate -_you_ seem to have got off all right, though I'm inclined to call it -rather a piece of luck than otherwise." - -Then, as was his invariable habit, he launched into anecdote. He told -me of the crimes of the Maffia, that Italian secret society, larger -even and more powerful than the Camorra, and almost as criminal; -tales of implacable revenge visited on father, son, and grandson -in succession, till the race was extirpated. Then he talked of the -methods; of the large funds at the disposal of the Camorra and the -Maffia, and of the cunning patience with which their schemes were -carried into execution; of the victims who had discovered too late -that their most trusted servants were sworn to their destruction, and -of those who had fled to remote parts of the earth and hoped to be -lost and forgotten, but who had been shadowed and slain with barbarous -ferocity in their most trusted hiding-places. Wherever Italians were, -there was apt to be a branch of one of the societies, and one could -never tell where they might or might not turn up. The two Italian -forecastle hands on board at that moment might be members, and might -or might not have some business in hand not included in their signed -articles. - -I asked if he had ever come into personal contact with either of these -societies or their doings. - -"With the Camorra, no, though I know things about them that would -probably surprise some of them not a little. But I have had -professional dealings with the Maffia--and that without coming off -second best, too. But it was not so serious a case as your father's; -one of a robbery of documents and blackmail." - -"Professional dealings?" I queried. - -Dorrington laughed. "Yes," he answered. "I find I've come very near to -letting the cat out of the bag. I don't generally tell people who I am -when I travel about, and indeed I don't always use my own name, as I am -doing now. Surely you've heard the name at some time or another?" - -I had to confess that I did not remember it. But I excused myself by -citing my secluded life, and the fact that I had never left Australia -since I was a child. - -"Ah," he said, "of course we should be less heard of in Australia. But -in England we're really pretty well known, my partner and I. But, come -now, look me all over and consider, and I'll give you a dozen guesses -and bet you a sovereign you can't tell me my trade. And it's not such -an uncommon or unheard-of trade, neither." - -Guessing would have been hopeless, and I said so. He did not seem the -sort of man who would trouble himself about a trade at all. I gave it -up. - -"Well," he said, "I've no particular desire to have it known all over -the ship, but I don't mind telling you--you'd find it out probably -before long if you settle in the old country--that we are what is -called private inquiry agents--detectives--secret service men--whatever -you like to call it." - -"Indeed!" - -"Yes, indeed. And I think I may claim that we stand as high as any--if -not a trifle higher. Of course I can't tell you, but you'd be rather -astonished if you heard the names of some of our clients. We have had -dealings with certain royalties, European and Asiatic, that would -startle you a bit if I could tell them. Dorrington & Hicks is the name -of the firm, and we are both pretty busy men, though we keep going a -regiment of assistants and correspondents. I have been in Australia -three months over a rather awkward and complicated matter, but I fancy -I've pulled it through pretty well, and I mean to reward myself with a -little holiday when I get back. There--now you know the worst of me. -And D. & H. present their respectful compliments, and trust that by -unfailing punctuality and a strict attention to business they may hope -to receive your esteemed commands whenever you may be so unfortunate as -to require their services. Family secrets extracted, cleaned, scaled, -or stopped with gold. Special attention given to wholesale orders." He -laughed and pulled out his cigar-case. "You haven't another cigar in -your pocket," he said, "or you wouldn't smoke that stump so low. Try -one of these." - -I took the cigar and lit it at my remainder. "Ah, then," I said, "I -take it that it is the practice of your profession that has given you -such a command of curious and out-of-the-way information and anecdote. -Plainly you must have been in the midst of many curious affairs." - -"Yes, I believe you," Dorrington replied. "But, as it happens, the most -curious of my experiences I am unable to relate, since they are matters -of professional confidence. Such as I _can_ tell I usually tell with -altered names, dates, and places. One learns discretion in such a trade -as mine." - -"As to your adventure with the Maffia, now. Is there any secrecy about -that?" - -Dorrington shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said, "none in particular. -But the case was not particularly interesting. It was in Florence. -The documents were the property of a wealthy American, and some of -the Maffia rascals managed to steal them. It doesn't matter what the -documents were--that's a private matter--but their owner would have -parted with a great deal to get them back, and the Maffia held them for -ransom. But they had such a fearful notion of the American's wealth, -and of what he ought to pay, that, badly as he wanted the papers back, -he couldn't stand their demands, and employed us to negotiate and to -do our best for him. I think I might have managed to get the things -stolen back again--indeed I spent some time thinking a plan over--but -I decided in the end that it wouldn't pay. If the Maffia were tricked -in that way they might consider it appropriate to stick somebody -with a knife, and that was not an easy thing to provide against. So -I took a little time and went another way to work. The details don't -matter--they're quite uninteresting, and to tell you them would be to -talk mere professional 'shop'; there's a deal of dull and patient work -to be done in my business. Anyhow, I contrived to find out exactly -in whose hands the documents lay. He wasn't altogether a blameless -creature, and there were two or three little things that, properly -handled, might have brought him into awkward complications with the -law. So I delayed the negotiations while I got my nets effectually -round this gentleman, who was the president of that particular branch -of the Maffia, and when all was ready I had a friendly interview with -him, and just showed him my hand of cards. They served as no other -argument would have done, and in the end we concluded quite an amicable -arrangement on easy terms for both parties, and my client got his -property back, including all expenses, at about a fifth of the price he -expected to have to pay. That's all. I learnt a deal about the Maffia -while the business lasted, and at that and other times I learnt a good -deal about the Camorra too." - -Dorrington and I grew more intimate every day of the voyage, till he -knew every detail of my uneventful little history, and I knew many -of his own most curious experiences. In truth he was a man with an -irresistible fascination for a dull home-bird like myself. With all his -gaiety he never forgot business, and at most of our stopping places he -sent off messages by cable to his partner. As the voyage drew near its -end he grew anxious and impatient lest he should not arrive in time to -enable him to get to Scotland for grouse-shooting on the twelfth of -August. His one amusement, it seemed, was shooting, and the holiday he -had promised himself was to be spent on a grouse-moor which he rented -in Perthshire. It would be a great nuisance to miss the twelfth, he -said, but it would apparently be a near shave. He thought, however, -that in any case it might be done by leaving the ship at Plymouth, and -rushing up to London by the first train. - -"Yes," he said, "I think I shall be able to do it that way, even if the -boat is a couple of days late. By the way," he added suddenly, "why not -come along to Scotland with me? You haven't any particular business in -hand, and I can promise you a week or two of good fun." - -The invitation pleased me. "It's very good of you," I said, "and as a -matter of fact I haven't any very urgent business in London. I must -see those solicitors I told you of, but that's not a matter of hurry; -indeed an hour or two on my way through London would be enough. But as -I don't know any of your party and----" - -"Pooh, pooh, my dear fellow," answered Dorrington, with a snap of -his fingers, "that's all right. I shan't have a party. There won't -be time to get it together. One or two might come down a little -later, but if they do they'll be capital fellows, delighted to make -your acquaintance, I'm sure. Indeed you'll do me a great favour if -you'll come, else I shall be all alone, without a soul to say a word -to. Anyway, I _won't_ miss the twelfth, if it's to be done by any -possibility. You'll really have to come, you know--you've no excuse. I -can lend you guns and anything you want, though I believe you've such -things with you. Who is your London solicitor, by the way?" - -"Mowbray, of Lincoln's Inn Fields." - -"Oh, Mowbray? We know him well; his partner died last year. When I say -_we_ know him well, I mean as a firm. I have never met him personally, -though my partner (who does the office work) has regular dealings -with him. He's an excellent man, but his managing clerk's frightful; -I wonder Mowbray keeps him. Don't you let him do anything for you on -his own hook; he makes the most disastrous messes, and I rather fancy -he drinks. Deal with Mowbray himself; there's nobody better in London. -And by the way, now I think of it, it's lucky you've nothing urgent for -him, for he's sure to be off out of town for the twelfth; he's a rare -old gunner, and never misses a season. So that now you haven't a shade -of an excuse for leaving me in the lurch, and we'll consider the thing -settled." - -Settled accordingly it was, and the voyage ended uneventfully. But the -steamer was late, and we left it at Plymouth and rushed up to town on -the tenth. We had three or four hours to prepare before leaving Euston -by the night train. Dorrington's moor was a long drive from Crieff -station, and he calculated that at best we could not arrive there -before the early evening of the following day, which would, however, -give us comfortable time for a good long night's rest before the -morning's sport opened. Fortunately I had plenty of loose cash with me, -so that there was nothing to delay us in that regard. We made ready in -Dorrington's rooms (he was a bachelor) in Conduit Street, and got off -comfortably by the ten o'clock train from Euston. - -Then followed a most delightful eight days. The weather was fine, the -birds were plentiful, and my first taste of grouse-shooting was a -complete success. I resolved for the future to come out of my shell and -mix in the world that contained such charming fellows as Dorrington, -and such delightful sports as that I was then enjoying. But on the -eighth day Dorrington received a telegram calling him instantly to -London. - -"It's a shocking nuisance," he said; "here's my holiday either knocked -on the head altogether or cut in two, and I fear it's the first rather -than the second. It's just the way in such an uncertain profession as -mine. There's no possible help for it, however; I must go, as you'd -understand at once if you knew the case. But what chiefly annoys me is -leaving you all alone." - -I reassured him on this point, and pointed out that I had for a long -time been used to a good deal of my own company. Though indeed, with -Dorrington away, life at the shooting-lodge threatened to be less -pleasant than it had been. - -"But you'll be bored to death here," Dorrington said, his thoughts -jumping with my own. "But on the other hand it won't be much good -going up to town yet. Everybody's out of town, and Mowbray among them. -There's a little business of ours that's waiting for him at this -moment--my partner mentioned it in his letter yesterday. Why not put in -the time with a little tour round? Or you might work up to London by -irregular stages, and look about you. As an artist you'd like to see -a few of the old towns--probably, Edinburgh, Chester, Warwick, and so -on. It isn't a great programme, perhaps, but I hardly know what else to -suggest. As for myself I must be off as I am by the first train I can -get." - -I begged him not to trouble about me, but to attend to his business. As -a matter of fact, I was disposed to get to London and take chambers, at -any rate for a little while. But Chester was a place I much wanted to -see--a real old town, with walls round it--and I was not indisposed to -take a day at Warwick. So in the end I resolved to pack up and make for -Chester the following day, and from there to take train for Warwick. -And in half an hour Dorrington was gone. - -Chester was all delight to me. My recollections of the trip to Europe -in my childhood were vivid enough as to the misfortunes that followed -my father, but of the ancient buildings we visited I remembered little. -Now in Chester I found the mediæval town I had so often read of. I -wandered for hours together in the quaint old "Rows," and walked on the -city wall. The evening after my arrival was fine and moonlight, and I -was tempted from my hotel. I took a stroll about the town and finished -by a walk along the wall from the Watergate toward the cathedral. The -moon, flecked over now and again by scraps of cloud, and at times -obscured for half a minute together, lighted up all the Roodee in the -intervals, and touched with silver the river beyond. But as I walked -I presently grew aware of a quiet shuffling footstep some little way -behind me. I took little heed of it at first, though I could see nobody -near me from whom the sound might come. But soon I perceived that -when I stopped, as I did from time to time to gaze over the parapet, -the mysterious footsteps stopped also, and when I resumed my walk the -quiet shuffling tread began again. At first I thought it might be an -echo; but a moment's reflection dispelled that idea. Mine was an even, -distinct walk, and this which followed was a soft, quick, shuffling -step--a mere scuffle. Moreover, when, by way of test, I took a few -silent steps on tip-toe, the shuffle still persisted. I was being -followed. - -Now I do not know whether or not it may sound like a childish fancy, -but I confess I thought of my father. When last I had been in England, -as a child, my father's violent death had been preceded by just such -followings. And now after all these years, on my return, on the very -first night I walked abroad alone, there were strange footsteps in -my track. The walk was narrow, and nobody could possibly pass me -unseen. I turned suddenly, therefore, and hastened back. At once I -saw a dark figure rise from the shadow of the parapet and run. I ran -too, but I could not gain on the figure, which receded farther and -more indistinctly before me. One reason was that I felt doubtful of -my footing on the unfamiliar track. I ceased my chase, and continued -my stroll. It might easily have been some vagrant thief, I thought, -who had a notion to rush, at a convenient opportunity, and snatch my -watch. But here I was far past the spot where I had turned there was -the shuffling footstep behind me again. For a little while I feigned -not to notice it; then, swinging round as swiftly as I could, I made a -quick rush. Useless again, for there in the distance scuttled that same -indistinct figure, more rapidly than I could run. What did it mean? I -liked the affair so little that I left the walls and walked toward my -hotel. - -The streets were quiet. I had traversed two, and was about emerging -into one of the two main streets, where the Rows are, when, from the -farther part of the dark street behind me, there came once more the -sound of the now unmistakable footstep. I stopped; the footsteps -stopped also. I turned and walked back a few steps, and as I did it the -sounds went scuffling away at the far end of the street. - -[Illustration: "I MADE A QUICK RUSH."] - -It could not be fancy. It could not be chance. For a single incident -perhaps such an explanation might serve, but not for this persistent -recurrence. I hurried away to my hotel, resolved, since I could not -come at my pursuer, to turn back no more. But before I reached the -hotel there were the shuffling footsteps again, and not far behind. - -It would not be true to say that I was alarmed at this stage of the -adventure, but I was troubled to know what it all might mean, and -altogether puzzled to account for it. I thought a great deal, but I -went to bed and rose in the morning no wiser than ever. - -Whether or not it was a mere fancy induced by the last night's -experience I cannot say, but I went about that day with a haunting -feeling that I was watched, and to me the impression was very real -indeed. I listened often, but in the bustle of the day, even in quiet -old Chester, the individual characters of different footsteps were not -easily recognisable. Once, however, as I descended a flight of steps -from the Rows, I fancied I heard the quick shuffle in the curious old -gallery I had just quitted. I turned up the steps again and looked. -There was a shabby sort of man looking in one of the windows, and -leaning so far as to hide his head behind the heavy oaken pilaster -that supported the building above. It might have been his footstep, -or it might have been my fancy. At any rate I would have a look at -him. I mounted the top stair, but as I turned in his direction the -man ran off, with his face averted and his head ducked, and vanished -down another stair. I made all speed after him, but when I reached the -street he was nowhere to be seen. - -What _could_ it all mean? The man was rather above the middle height, -and he wore one of those soft felt hats familiar on the head of the -London organ-grinder. Also his hair was black and bushy, and protruded -over the back of his coat-collar. Surely _this_ was no delusion; surely -I was not imagining an Italian aspect for this man simply because of -the recollection of my father's fate? - -Perhaps I was foolish, but I took no more pleasure in Chester. The -embarrassment was a novel one for me, and I could not forget it. I went -back to my hotel, paid my bill, sent my bag to the railway station, and -took train for Warwick by way of Crewe. - -It was dark when I arrived, but the night was near as fine as last -night had been at Chester. I took a very little late dinner at my -hotel, and fell into a doubt what to do with myself. One rather fat -and very sleepy commercial traveller was the only other customer -visible, and the billiard room was empty. There seemed to be nothing to -do but to light a cigar and take a walk. - -I could just see enough of the old town to give me good hopes of -to-morrow's sight-seeing. There was nothing visible of quite such an -interesting character as one might meet in Chester, but there were a -good few fine old sixteenth century houses, and there were the two -gates with the chapels above them. But of course the castle was the -great show-place, and that I should visit on the morrow, if there were -no difficulties as to permission. There were some very fine pictures -there, if I remembered aright what I had read. I was walking down the -incline from one of the gates, trying to remember who the painters of -these pictures were, besides Van Dyck and Holbein, when--that shuffling -step was behind me again! - -I admit that it cost me an effort, this time, to turn on my pursuer. -There was something uncanny in that persistent, elusive footstep, -and indeed there was something alarming in my circumstances, dogged -thus from place to place, and unable to shake off my enemy, or to -understand his movements or his motive. Turn I did, however, and -straightway the shuffling step went off at a hastened pace in the -shadow of the gate. This time I made no more than half-a-dozen steps -back. I turned again, and pushed my way to the hotel. And as I went the -shuffling step came after. - -The thing was serious. There must be some object in this unceasing -watching, and the object could bode no good to me. Plainly some unseen -eye had been on me the whole of that day, had noted my goings and -comings and my journey from Chester. Again, and irresistibly, the -watchings that preceded my father's death came to mind, and I could not -forget them. I could have no doubt now that I had been closely watched -from the moment I had set foot at Plymouth. But who could have been -waiting to watch me at Plymouth, when indeed I had only decided to land -at the last moment? Then I thought of the two Italian forecastle hands -on the steamer--the very men whom Dorrington had used to illustrate -in what unexpected quarters members of the terrible Italian secret -societies might be found. And the Camorra was not satisfied with single -revenge; it destroyed the son after the father, and it waited for many -years, with infinite patience and cunning. - -Dogged by the steps, I reached the hotel and went to bed. I slept but -fitfully at first, though better rest came as the night wore on. In -the early morning I woke with a sudden shock, and with an indefinite -sense of being disturbed by somebody about me. The window was directly -opposite the foot of the bed, and there, as I looked, was the face of -a man, dark, evil, and grinning, with a bush of black hair about his -uncovered head, and small rings in his ears. - -It was but a flash, and the face vanished. I was struck by the terror -that one so often feels on a sudden and violent awakening from sleep, -and it was some seconds ere I could leave my bed and get to the -window. My room was on the first floor, and the window looked down on -a stable-yard. I had a momentary glimpse of a human figure leaving the -gate of the yard, and it was the figure that had fled before me in -the Rows, at Chester. A ladder belonging to the yard stood under the -window, and that was all. - -I rose and dressed; I could stand this sort of thing no longer. If -it were only something tangible, if there were only somebody I could -take hold of, and fight with if necessary, it would not have been so -bad. But I was surrounded by some mysterious machination, persistent, -unexplainable, that it was altogether impossible to tackle or to face. -To complain to the police would have been absurd--they would take me -for a lunatic. They are indeed just such complaints that lunatics so -often make to the police--complaints of being followed by indefinite -enemies, and of being besieged by faces that look in at windows. -Even if they did not set me down a lunatic, what could the police of -a provincial town do for me in a case like this? No, I must go and -consult Dorrington. - -I had my breakfast, and then decided that I would at any rate try the -castle before leaving. Try it I did accordingly, and was allowed to go -over it. But through the whole morning I was oppressed by the horrible -sense of being watched by malignant eyes. Clearly there was no comfort -for me while this lasted; so after lunch I caught a train which brought -me to Euston soon after half-past six. - -I took a cab straight to Dorrington's rooms, but he was out, and was -not expected home till late. So I drove to a large hotel near Charing -Cross--I avoid mentioning its name for reasons which will presently be -understood--sent in my bag, and dined. - -I had not the smallest doubt but that I was still under the observation -of the man or the men who had so far pursued me; I had, indeed, no -hope of eluding them, except by the contrivance of Dorrington's -expert brain. So as I had no desire to hear that shuffling footstep -again--indeed it had seemed, at Warwick, to have a physically painful -effect on my nerves--I stayed within and got to bed early. - -I had no fear of waking face to face with a grinning Italian here. My -window was four floors up, out of reach of anything but a fire-escape. -And, in fact, I woke comfortably and naturally, and saw nothing from -my window but the bright sky, the buildings opposite, and the traffic -below. But as I turned to close my door behind me as I emerged into the -corridor, there, on the muntin of the frame, just below the bedroom -number, was a little round paper label, perhaps a trifle smaller than a -sixpence, and on the label, drawn awkwardly in ink, was a device of two -crossed knives of curious, crooked shape. The sign of the Camorra! - -I will not attempt to describe the effect of this sign upon me. It -may best be imagined, in view of what I have said of the incidents -preceding the murder of my father. It was the sign of an inexorable -fate, creeping nearer step by step, implacable, inevitable, and -mysterious. In little more than twelve hours after seeing that sign my -father had been a mangled corpse. One of the hotel servants passed as I -stood by the door, and I made shift to ask him if he knew anything of -the label. He looked at the paper, and then, more curiously, at me, but -he could offer no explanation. I spent little time over breakfast, and -then went by cab to Conduit Street. I paid my bill and took my bag with -me. - -Dorrington had gone to his office, but he had left a message that if -I called I was to follow him; and the office was in Bedford Street, -Covent Garden. I turned the cab in that direction forthwith. - -"Why," said Dorrington as we shook hands, "I believe you look a bit out -of sorts! Doesn't England agree with you?" - -"Well," I answered, "it has proved rather trying so far." And then I -described, in exact detail, my adventures as I have set them down here. - -Dorrington looked grave. "It's really extraordinary," he said, "most -extraordinary; and it isn't often that I call a thing extraordinary -neither, with my experience. But it's plain something must be -done--something to gain time at any rate. We're in the dark at present, -of course, and I expect I shall have to fish about a little before I -get at anything to go on. In the meantime I think you must disappear -as artfully as we can manage it." He sat silent for a little while, -thoughtfully tapping his forehead with his finger-tips. "I wonder," he -said presently, "whether or not those Italian fellows on the steamer -_are_ in it or not. I suppose you haven't made yourself known anywhere, -have you?" - -"Nowhere. As you know, you've been with me all the time till you left -the moor, and since then I have been with nobody and called on nobody." - -"Now there's no doubt it's the Camorra," Dorrington said--"that's -pretty plain. I think I told you on the steamer that it was rather -wonderful that you had heard nothing of them after your father's death. -What has caused them all this delay there's no telling--they know -best themselves; it's been lucky for you, anyway, so far. What I'd -like to find out now is how they have identified you, and got on your -track so promptly. There's no guessing where these fellows get their -information--it's just wonderful; but if we can find out, then perhaps -we can stop the supply, or turn on something that will lead them into a -pit. If you had called anywhere on business and declared yourself--as -you might have done, for instance, at Mowbray's--I might be inclined to -suspect that they got the tip in some crooked way from there. But you -haven't. Of course, if those Italian chaps on the steamer _are_ in it, -you're probably identified pretty certainly; but if they're not, they -may only have made a guess. We two landed together, and kept together, -till a day or two ago; as far as any outsider would know, I might be -Rigby and you might be Dorrington. Come, we'll work on those lines. I -think I smell a plan. Are you staying anywhere?" - -"No. I paid my bill at the hotel and came along here with my bag." - -"Very well. Now there's a house at Highgate kept by a very trustworthy -man, whom I know very well, where a man might be pretty comfortable -for a few days, or even for a week, if he doesn't mind staying indoors, -and keeping himself out of sight. I expect your friends of the Camorra -are watching in the street outside at this moment; but I think it will -be fairly easy to get you away to Highgate without letting them into -the secret, if you don't mind secluding yourself for a bit. In the -circumstances, I take it you won't object at all?" - -"Object? I should think not." - -"Very well, that's settled. You can call yourself Dorrington or not, as -you please, though perhaps it will be safest not to shout 'Rigby' too -loud. But as for myself, for a day or two at least I'm going to be Mr. -James Rigby. Have you your card-case handy?" - -"Yes, here it is. But then, as to taking my name, won't you run serious -risk?" - -Dorrington winked merrily. "I've run a risk or two before now," he -said, "in course of my business. And if _I_ don't mind the risk, you -needn't grumble, for I warn you I shall charge for risk when I send you -my bill. And I think I can take care of myself fairly well, even with -the Camorra about. I shall take you to this place at Highgate, and then -you won't see me for a few days. It won't do for me, in the character -of Mr. James Rigby, to go dragging a trail up and down between this -place and your retreat. You've got some other identifying papers, -haven't you?" - -"Yes, I have." I produced the letter from my Sydney lawyers to Mowbray, -and the deeds of the South Australian property from my bag. - -"Ah," said Dorrington, "I'll just give you a formal receipt for these, -since they're valuable; it's a matter of business, and we'll do it in -a business-like way. I may want something solid like this to support -any bluff I may have to make. A mere case of cards won't always act, -you know. It's a pity old Mowbray's out of town, for there's a way in -which he might give a little help, I fancy. But never mind--leave it -all to me. There's your receipt. Keep it snug away somewhere, where -inquisitive people can't read it." - -He handed me the receipt, and then took me to his partner's room -and introduced me. Mr. Hicks was a small, wrinkled man, older than -Dorrington, I should think, by fifteen or twenty years, and with all -the aspect and manner of a quiet old professional man. - -Dorrington left the room, and presently returned with his hat in his -hand. "Yes," he said, "there's a charming dark gentleman with a head -like a mop, and rings in his ears, skulking about at the next corner. -If it was he who looked in at your window, I don't wonder you were -startled. His dress suggests the organ-grinding interest, but he looks -as though cutting a throat would be more in his line than grinding a -tune; and no doubt he has friends as engaging as himself close at call. -If you'll come with me now I think we shall give him the slip. I have -a growler ready for you--a hansom's a bit too glassy and public. Pull -down the blinds and sit back when you get inside." - -He led me to a yard at the back of the building wherein the office -stood, from which a short flight of steps led to a basement. We -followed a passage in this basement till we reached another flight, and -ascending these, we emerged into the corridor of another building. Out -at the door at the end of this, and we passed a large block of model -dwellings, and were in Bedfordbury. Here a four-wheeler was waiting, -and I shut myself in it without delay. - -I was to proceed as far as King's Cross in this cab, Dorrington had -arranged, and there he would overtake me in a swift hansom. It fell out -as he had settled, and, dismissing the hansom, he came the rest of the -journey with me in the four-wheeler. - -We stopped at length before one of a row of houses, apparently recently -built--houses of the over-ornamented, gabled and tiled sort that abound -in the suburbs. - -"Crofting is the man's name," Dorrington said, as we alighted. "He's -rather an odd sort of customer, but quite decent in the main, and his -wife makes coffee such as money won't buy in most places." - -A woman answered Dorrington's ring--a woman of most extreme thinness. -Dorrington greeted her as Mrs. Crofting, and we entered. - -"We've just lost our servant again, Mr. Dorrington," the woman said in -a shrill voice, "and Mr. Crofting ain't at home. But I'm expecting him -before long." - -"I don't think I need wait to see him, Mrs. Crofting," Dorrington -answered. "I'm sure I can't leave my friend in better hands than yours. -I hope you've a vacant room?" - -"Well, for a friend of yours, Mr. Dorrington, no doubt we can find -room." - -"That's right. My friend Mr."--Dorrington gave me a meaning look--"Mr. -Phelps, would like to stay here for a few days. He wants to be quite -quiet for a little--do you understand?" - -"Oh, yes, Mr. Dorrington, I understand." - -"Very well, then, make him as comfortable as you can, and give him -some of your very best coffee. I believe you've got quite a little -library of books, and Mr. Phelps will be glad of them. Have you got any -cigars?" Dorrington added, turning to me. - -"Yes; there are some in my bag." - -"Then I think you'll be pretty comfortable now. Goodbye. I expect -you'll see me in a few days--or at any rate you'll get a message. -Meantime be as happy as you can." - -Dorrington left, and the woman showed me to a room upstairs, where I -placed my bag. In front, on the same floor, was a sitting-room, with, -I suppose, some two or three hundred books, mostly novels, on shelves. -The furniture of the place was of the sort one expects to find in an -ordinary lodging-house--horsehair sofas, loo tables, lustres, and so -forth. Mrs. Crofting explained to me that the customary dinner hour -was two, but that I might dine when I liked. I elected, however, to -follow the custom of the house, and sat down to a cigar and a book. - -At two o'clock the dinner came, and I was agreeably surprised to find -it a very good one, much above what the appointments of the house had -led me to expect. Plainly Mrs. Crofting was a capital cook. There -was no soup, but there was a very excellent sole, and some well-done -cutlets with peas, and an omelet; also a bottle of Bass. Come, I felt -that I should not do so badly in this place after all. I trusted that -Dorrington would be as comfortable in his half of the transaction, -bearing my responsibilities and troubles. I had heard a heavy, -blundering tread on the floor below, and judged from this that Mr. -Crofting had returned. - -After dinner I lit a cigar, and Mrs. Crofting brought her coffee. Truly -it was excellent coffee, and brewed as I like it--strong and black, -and plenty of it. It had a flavour of its own too, novel, but not -unpleasing. I took one cupful, and brought another to my side as I lay -on the sofa with my book. I had not read six lines before I was asleep. - -I woke with a sensation of numbing cold in my right side, a terrible -stiffness in my limbs, and a sound of loud splashing in my ears. All -was pitch dark, and--what was this? Water! Water all about me. I was -lying in six inches of cold water, and more was pouring down upon me -from above. My head was afflicted with a splitting ache. But where was -I? Why was it dark? And whence all the water? I staggered to my feet, -and instantly struck my head against a hard roof above me. I raised my -hand; there was the roof or whatever place it was, hard, smooth and -cold, and little more than five feet from the floor, so that I bent as -I stood. I spread my hand to the side; that was hard, smooth and cold -too. And then the conviction struck me like a blow--I was in a covered -iron tank, and the water was pouring in to drown me! - -I dashed my hands frantically against the lid, and strove to raise it. -It would not move. I shouted at the top of my voice, and turned about -to feel the extent of my prison. One way I could touch the opposite -sides at once easily with my hands, the other way it was wider--perhaps -a little more than six feet altogether. What was this? Was this to be -my fearful end, cooped in this tank while the water rose by inches -to choke me? Already the water was a foot deep. I flung myself at the -sides, I beat the pitiless iron with fists, face and head, I screamed -and implored. Then it struck me that I might at least stop the inlet -of water. I put out my hand and felt the falling stream, then found -the inlet and stopped it with my fingers. But water still poured in -with a resounding splash; there was another opening at the opposite -end, which I could not reach without releasing the one I now held! I -was but prolonging my agony. Oh, the devilish cunning that had devised -those two inlets, so far apart! Again I beat the sides, broke my nails -with tearing at the corners, screamed and entreated in my agony. I was -mad, but with no dulling of the senses, for the horrors of my awful, -helpless state, overwhelmed my brain, keen and perceptive to every -ripple of the unceasing water. - -In the height of my frenzy I held my breath, for I heard a sound from -outside. I shouted again--implored some quicker death. Then there was a -scraping on the lid above me, and it was raised at one edge, and let in -the light of a candle. I sprang from my knees and forced the lid back, -and the candle flame danced before me. The candle was held by a dusty -man, a workman apparently, who stared at me with scared eyes, and said -nothing but, "Goo' lor'!" - -Overhead were the rafters of a gabled roof, and tilted against them was -the thick beam which, jammed across from one sloping rafter to another, -had held the tank-lid fast. "Help me!" I gasped. "Help me out!" - -The man took me by the armpits and hauled me, dripping and half dead, -over the edge of the tank, into which the water still poured, making -a noise in the hollow iron that half drowned our voices. The man had -been at work on the cistern of a neighbouring house, and hearing an -uncommon noise, he had climbed through the spaces left in the party -walls to give passage along under the roofs to the builders' men. Among -the joists at our feet was the trap-door through which, drugged and -insensible, I had been carried, to be flung into that horrible cistern. - -With the help of my friend the workman I made shift to climb through -by the way he had come. We got back to the house where he had been at -work, and there the people gave me brandy and lent me dry clothes. I -made haste to send for the police, but when they arrived Mrs. Crofting -and her respectable spouse had gone. Some unusual noise in the roof -must have warned them. And when the police, following my directions -further, got to the offices of Dorrington and Hicks, those acute -professional men had gone too, but in such haste that the contents of -the office, papers and everything else, had been left just as they -stood. - -The plot was clear now. The followings, the footsteps, the face at -the window, the label on the door--all were a mere humbug arranged by -Dorrington for his own purpose, which was to drive me into his power -and get my papers from me. Armed with these, and with his consummate -address and knowledge of affairs, he could go to Mr. Mowbray in the -character of Mr. James Rigby, sell my land in South Australia, and -have the whole of my property transferred to himself from Sydney. -The rest of my baggage was at his rooms; if any further proof were -required it might be found there. He had taken good care that I should -not meet Mr. Mowbray--who, by the way, I afterwards found had not -left his office, and had never fired a gun in his life. At first I -wondered that Dorrington had not made some murderous attempt on me -at the shooting place in Scotland. But a little thought convinced me -that that would have been bad policy for him. The disposal of the -body would be difficult, and he would have to account somehow for my -sudden disappearance. Whereas, by the use of his Italian assistant and -his murder apparatus at Highgate I was made to efface my own trail, -and could be got rid of in the end with little trouble; for my body, -stripped of everything that might identify me, would be simply that -of a drowned man unknown, whom nobody could identify. The whole plot -was contrived upon the information I myself had afforded Dorrington -during the voyage home. And it all sprang from his remembering the -report of my father's death. When the papers in the office came to -be examined, there each step in the operations was plainly revealed. -There was a code telegram from Suez directing Hicks to hire a grouse -moor. There were telegrams and letters from Scotland giving directions -as to the later movements; indeed the thing was displayed completely. -The business of Dorrington and Hicks had really been that of private -inquiry agents, and they had done much _bonâ fide_ business; but -many of their operations had been of a more than questionable sort. -And among their papers were found complete sets, neatly arranged in -dockets, each containing in skeleton a complete history of a case. -Many of these cases were of a most interesting character, and I have -been enabled to piece together, out of the material thus supplied, the -narratives which will follow this. As to my own case, it only remains -to say that as yet neither Dorrington, Hicks, nor the Croftings have -been caught. They played in the end for a high stake (they might have -made six figures of me if they had killed me, and the first figure -would not have been a one) and they lost by a mere accident. But I have -often wondered how many of the bodies which the coroners' juries of -London have returned to be "Found Drowned" were drowned, not where they -were picked up, but in that horrible tank at Highgate. What the drug -was that gave Mrs. Crofting's coffee its value in Dorrington's eyes I -do not know, but plainly it had not been sufficient in my case to keep -me unconscious against the shock of cold water till I could be drowned -altogether. Months have passed since my adventure, but even now I sweat -at the sight of an iron tank. - - - - -_THE CASE OF JANISSARY_ - - - - -II - -The Case of Janissary - - -I - -In this case (and indeed in most of the others) the notes and other -documents found in the dockets would, by themselves, give but a faint -outline of the facts, and, indeed, might easily be unintelligible -to many people, especially as for much of my information I have -been indebted to outside inquiries. Therefore I offer no excuse for -presenting the whole thing digested into plain narrative form, with -little reference to my authorities. Though I knew none of the actors -in it, with the exception of the astute Dorrington, the case was -especially interesting to me, as will be gathered from the narrative -itself. - -The only paper in the bundle which I shall particularly allude to was -a newspaper cutting, of a date anterior by nine or ten months to the -events I am to write of. It had evidently been cut at the time it -appeared, and saved, in case it might be useful, in a box in the form -of a book, containing many hundreds of others. From this receptacle it -had been taken, and attached to the bundle during the progress of the -case. I may say at once that the facts recorded had no direct concern -with the case of the horse Janissary, but had been useful in affording -a suggestion to Dorrington in connection therewith. The matter is the -short report of an ordinary sort of inquest, and I here transcribe it. - -"Dr. McCulloch held an inquest yesterday on the body of Mr. Henry -Lawrence, whose body was found on Tuesday morning last in the river -near Vauxhall Bridge. The deceased was well known in certain sporting -circles. Sophia Lawrence, the widow, said that deceased had left home -on Monday afternoon at about five, in his usual health, saying that he -was to dine at a friend's, and she saw nothing more of him till called -upon to identify the body. He had no reason for suicide, and so far as -witness knew, was free from pecuniary embarrassments. He had, indeed, -been very successful in betting recently. He habitually carried a -large pocket-book, with papers in it. Mr. Robert Naylor, commission -agent, said that deceased dined with him that evening at his house in -Gold Street, Chelsea, and left for home at about half-past eleven. He -had at the time a sum of nearly four hundred pounds upon him, chiefly -in notes, which had been paid him by witness in settlement of a bet. -It was a fine night, and deceased walked in the direction of Chelsea -Embankment. That was the last witness saw of him. He might not have -been perfectly sober, but he was not drunk, and was capable of taking -care of himself. The evidence of the Thames police went to show that -no money was on the body when found, except a few coppers, and no -pocket-book. Dr. William Hodgetts said that death was due to drowning. -There were some bruises on the arms and head which might have been -caused before death. The body was a very healthy one. The coroner said -that there seemed to be a very strong suspicion of foul play, unless -the pocket-book of the deceased had got out of his pocket in the water; -but the evidence was very meagre, although the police appeared to have -made every possible inquiry. The jury returned a verdict of 'Found -Drowned, though how the deceased came into the water there was no -evidence to show.'" - -I know no more of the unfortunate man Lawrence than this, and I have -only printed the cutting here because it probably induced Dorrington to -take certain steps in the case I am dealing with. With that case the -fate of the man Lawrence has nothing whatever to do. He passes out of -the story entirely. - - -II - -Mr. Warren Telfer was a gentleman of means, and the owner of a -few--very few--racehorses. But he had a great knack of buying hidden -prizes in yearlings, and what his stable lacked in quantity it often -more than made up for in quality. Thus he had once bought a St. Leger -winner for as little as a hundred and fifty pounds. Many will remember -his bitter disappointment of ten or a dozen years back, when his horse, -Matfelon, starting an odds-on favourite for the Two Thousand, never -even got among the crowd, and ambled in streets behind everything. It -was freely rumoured (and no doubt with cause) that Matfelon had been -"got at" and in some way "nobbled." There were hints of a certain -bucket of water administered just before the race--a bucket of water -observed in the hands, some said of one, some said of another person -connected with Ritter's training establishment. There was no suspicion -of pulling, for plainly the jockey was doing his best with the animal -all the way along, and never had a tight rein. So a nobbling it must -have been, said the knowing ones, and Mr. Warren Telfer said so too, -with much bitterness. More, he immediately removed his horses from -Ritter's stables, and started a small training place of his own for his -own horses merely; putting an old steeplechase jockey in charge, who -had come out of a bad accident permanently lame, and had fallen on evil -days. - -The owner was an impulsive and violent-tempered man, who, once a -notion was in his head, held to it through everything, and in spite of -everything. His misfortune with Matfelon made him the most insanely -distrustful man alive. In everything he fancied he saw a trick, and -to him every man seemed a scoundrel. He could scarce bear to let the -very stable-boys touch his horses, and although for years all went as -well as could be expected in his stables, his suspicious distrust lost -nothing of its virulence. He was perpetually fussing about the stables, -making surprise visits, and laying futile traps that convicted nobody. -The sole tangible result of this behaviour was a violent quarrel -between Mr. Warren Telfer and his nephew Richard, who had been making -a lengthened stay with his uncle. Young Telfer, to tell the truth, was -neither so discreet nor so exemplary in behaviour as he might have -been, but his temper was that characteristic of the family, and when he -conceived that his uncle had an idea that he was communicating stable -secrets to friends outside, there was an animated row, and the nephew -betook himself and his luggage somewhere else. Young Telfer always -insisted, however, that his uncle was not a bad fellow on the whole, -though he had habits of thought and conduct that made him altogether -intolerable at times. But the uncle had no good word for his graceless -nephew; and indeed Richard Telfer betted more than he could afford, -and was not so particular in his choice of sporting acquaintances as a -gentleman should have been. - -Mr. Warren Telfer's house, "Blackhall," and his stables were little -more than two miles from Redbury, in Hampshire; and after the -quarrel Mr. Richard Telfer was not seen near the place for many -months--not, indeed, till excitement was high over the forthcoming -race for the Redbury Stakes, for which there was an entry from the -stable--Janissary, for long ranked second favourite; and then the -owner's nephew did not enter the premises, and, in fact, made his visit -as secret as possible. - -I have said that Janissary was long ranked second favourite for the -Redbury Stakes, but a little more than a week before the race he became -first favourite, owing to a training mishap to the horse fancied first, -which made its chances so poor that it might have been scratched at any -moment. And so far was Janissary above the class of the field (though -it was a two-year-old race, and there might be a surprise) that it -at once went to far shorter odds than the previous favourite, which, -indeed, had it run fit and well, would have found Janissary no easy -colt to beat. - -Mr. Telfer's nephew was seen near the stables but two or three days -before the race, and that day the owner despatched a telegram to the -firm of Dorrington & Hicks. In response to this telegram, Dorrington -caught the first available train for Redbury, and was with Mr. Warren -Telfer in his library by five in the afternoon. - -"It is about my horse Janissary that I want to consult you, Mr. -Dorrington," said Mr. Telfer. "It's right enough now--or at least was -right at exercise this morning--but I feel certain that there's some -diabolical plot on hand somewhere to interfere with the horse before -the Redbury Stakes day, and I'm sorry to have to say that I suspect -my own nephew to be mixed up in it in some way. In the first place I -may tell you that there is no doubt whatever that the colt, if let -alone, and bar accident, can win in a canter. He could have won even -if Herald, the late favourite, had kept well, for I can tell you that -Janissary is a far greater horse than anybody is aware of outside my -establishment--or at any rate, than anybody ought to be aware of, -if the stable secrets are properly kept. His pedigree is nothing -very great, and he never showed his quality till quite lately, in -private trials. Of course it has leaked out somehow that the colt is -exceptionally good--I don't believe I can trust a soul in the place. -How should the price have gone up to five to four unless somebody had -been telling what he's paid not to tell? But that isn't all, as I have -said. I've a conviction that something's on foot--somebody wants to -interfere with the horse. Of course we get a tout about now and again, -but the downs are pretty big, and we generally manage to dodge them -if we want to. On the last three or four mornings, however, wherever -Janissary might be taking his gallop, there was a big, hulking fellow, -with a red beard and spectacles--not so much watching the horse as -trying to get hold of the lad. I am always up and out at five, for I've -found to my cost--you remember about Matfelon--that if a man doesn't -want to be ramped he must never take his eye off things. Well, I have -scarcely seen the lad ease the colt once on the last three or four -mornings without that red-bearded fellow bobbing up from a knoll, or a -clump of bushes, or something, close by--especially if Janissary was -a bit away from the other horses, and not under my nose, or the head -lad's, for a moment. I rode at the fellow, of course, when I saw what -he was after, but he was artful as a cartload of monkeys, and vanished -somehow before I could get near him. The head lad believes he has seen -him about just after dark, too; but I am keeping the stable lads in -when they're not riding, and I suppose he finds he has no chance of -getting at them except when they're out with the horses. This morning, -not only did I see this fellow about, as usual, but, I am ashamed to -say, I observed my own nephew acting the part of a common tout. He -certainly had the decency to avoid me and clear out, but that was -not all, as you shall see. This morning, happening to approach the -stables from the back, I suddenly came upon the red-bearded man--giving -money to a groom of mine! He ran off at once, as you may guess, and I -discharged the groom where he stood, and would not allow him into the -stables again. He offered no explanation or excuse, but took himself -off, and half an hour afterward I almost sent away my head boy too. -For when I told him of the dismissal, he admitted that he had seen -that same groom taking money of my nephew at the back of the stables, -an hour before, and had not informed me! He said that he thought that -as it was 'only Mr. Richard' it didn't matter. Fool! Anyway, the groom -has gone, and, so far as I can tell as yet, the colt is all right. I -examined him at once, of course; and I also turned over a box that -Weeks, the groom, used to keep brushes and odd things in. There I found -this paper full of powder. I don't yet know what it is, but it's -certainly nothing he had any business with in the stable. Will you take -it? - -"And now," Mr. Telfer went on, "I'm in such an uneasy state that I want -your advice and assistance. Quite apart from the suspicious--more than -suspicious--circumstances I have informed you of, I am _certain_--I -know it without being able to give precise reasons--I am _certain_ that -some attempt is being made at disabling Janissary before Thursday's -race. I feel it in my bones, so to speak. I had the same suspicion just -before that Two Thousand, when Matfelon was got at. The thing was in -the air, as it is now. Perhaps it's a sort of instinct; but I rather -think it is the result of an unconscious absorption of a number of -little indications about me. Be it as it may, I am resolved to leave no -opening to the enemy if I can help it, and I want you to see if you can -suggest any further precautions beyond those I am taking. Come and look -at the stables." - -Dorrington could see no opening for any piece of rascality by which he -might make more of the case than by serving his client loyally, so he -resolved to do the latter. He followed Mr. Telfer through the training -stables, where eight or nine thoroughbreds stood, and could suggest no -improvement upon the exceptional precautions that already existed. - -"No," said Dorrington, "I don't think you can do any better than -this--at least on this, the inner line of defence. But it is best to -make the outer lines secure first. By the way, _this_ isn't Janissary, -is it? We saw him farther up the row, didn't we?" - -"Oh no, that's a very different sort of colt, though he does look like, -doesn't he? People who've been up and down the stables once or twice -often confuse them. They're both bays, much of a build, and about the -same height, and both have a bit of stocking on the same leg, though -Janissary's is bigger, and this animal has a white star. But you never -saw two creatures look so like and run so differently. This is a dead -loss--not worth his feed. If I can manage to wind him up to something -like a gallop I shall try to work him off in a selling plate somewhere; -but as far as I can see he isn't good enough even for that. He's a -disappointment. And his stock's far better than Janissary's too, and he -cost half as much again! Yearlings are a lottery. Still, I've drawn a -prize or two among them, at one time or another." - -"Ah yes, so I've heard. But now as to the outer defences I was speaking -of. Let us find out _who_ is trying to interfere with your horse. Do -you mind letting me into the secrets of the stable commissions?" - -"Oh no. We're talking in confidence, of course. I've backed the colt -pretty heavily all round, but not too much anywhere. There's a good -slice with Barker--you know Barker, of course; Mullins has a thousand -down for him, and that was at five to one, before Herald went amiss. -Then there's Ford and Lascelles--both good men, and Naylor--he's the -smallest man of them all, and there's only a hundred or two with him, -though he's been laying the horse pretty freely everywhere, at least -until Herald went wrong. And there's Pedder. But there must have been a -deal of money laid to outside backers, and there's no telling who may -contemplate a ramp." - -"Just so. Now as to your nephew. What of your suspicions in that -direction?" - -"Perhaps I'm a little hasty as to that," Mr. Telfer answered, a -little ashamed of what he had previously said. "But I'm worried -and mystified, as you see, and hardly know what to think. My nephew -Richard is a little erratic, and he has a foolish habit of betting more -than he can afford. He and I quarrelled some time back, while he was -staying here, because I had an idea that he had been talking too freely -outside. He had, in fact; and I regarded it as a breach of confidence. -So there was a quarrel and he went away." - -"Very well. I wonder if I can get a bed at the 'Crown,' at Redbury? I'm -afraid it'll be crowded, but I'll try." - -"But why trouble? Why not stay with me, and be near the stables?" - -"Because then I should be of no more use to you than one of your lads. -People who come out here every morning are probably staying at Redbury, -and I must go there after them." - - -III - -The "Crown" at Redbury was full in anticipation of the races, but -Dorrington managed to get a room ordinarily occupied by one of the -landlord's family, who undertook to sleep at a friend's for a night -or two. This settled, he strolled into the yard, and soon fell into -animated talk with the hostler on the subject of the forthcoming races. -All the town was backing Janissary for the Stakes, the hostler said, -and he advised Dorrington to do the same. - -During this conversation two men stopped in the street, just outside -the yard gate, talking. One was a big, heavy, vulgar-looking fellow in -a box-cloth coat, and with a shaven face and hoarse voice; the other -was a slighter, slimmer, younger and more gentlemanlike man, though -there was a certain patchy colour about his face that seemed to hint of -anything but teetotalism. - -"There," said the hostler, indicating the younger of these two men, -"that's young Mr. Telfer, him as whose uncle's owner o' Janissary. He's -a young plunger, he is, and he's on Janissary too. He give me the tip, -straight, this mornin'. 'You put your little bit on my uncle's colt,' -he said. 'It's all right. I ain't such pals with the old man as I was, -but I've got the tip that _his_ money's down on it. So don't neglect -your opportunities, Thomas,' he says; and I haven't. He's stoppin' in -our house, is young Mr. Richard." - -"And who is that he is talking to? A bookmaker?" - -"Yes, sir, that's Naylor--Bob Naylor. He's got Mr. Richard's bets. -P'raps he's puttin' on a bit more now." - -The men at the gate separated, and the bookmaker walked off down the -street in the fast gathering dusk. Richard Telfer, however, entered the -house, and Dorrington followed him. Telfer mounted the stairs and went -into his room. Dorrington lingered a moment on the stairs and then went -and knocked at Telfer's door. - -"Hullo!" cried Telfer, coming to the door and peering out into the -gloomy corridor. - -"I beg pardon," Dorrington replied courteously. "I thought this was -Naylor's room." - -"No--it's No. 23, by the end. But I believe he's just gone down the -street." - -Dorrington expressed his thanks and went to his own room. He took one -or two small instruments from his bag and hurried stealthily to the -door of No. 23. - -All was quiet, and the door opened at once to Dorrington's picklock, -for there was nothing but the common tumbler rim-lock to secure -it. Dorrington, being altogether an unscrupulous scoundrel, would -have thought nothing of entering a man's room thus for purposes of -mere robbery. Much less scruple had he in doing so in the present -circumstances. He lit the candle in a little pocket lantern, and, -having secured the door, looked quickly about the room. There was -nothing unusual to attract his attention, and he turned to two -bags lying near the dressing-table. One was the usual bookmaker's -satchel, and the other was a leather travelling-bag; both were locked. -Dorrington unbuckled the straps of the large bag, and produced a -slender picklock of steel wire, with a sliding joint, which, with a -little skilful "humouring," turned the lock in the course of a minute -or two. One glance inside was enough. There on the top lay a large -false beard of strong red, and upon the shirts below was a pair of -spectacles. But Dorrington went farther, and felt carefully below the -linen till his hand met a small, flat, mahogany box. This he withdrew -and opened. Within, on a velvet lining, lay a small silver instrument -resembling a syringe. He shut and replaced the box, and, having -rearranged the contents of the bag, shut, locked and strapped it, and -blew out his light. He had found what he came to look for. In another -minute Mr. Bob Naylor's door was locked behind him, and Dorrington took -his picklocks to his own room. - -It was a noisy evening in the Commercial Room at the "Crown." Chaff -and laughter flew thick, and Richard Telfer threatened Naylor with a -terrible settling day. More was drunk than thirst strictly justified, -and everybody grew friendly with everybody else. Dorrington, sober and -keenly alert, affected the reverse, and exhibited especial and extreme -affection for Mr. Bob Naylor. His advances were unsuccessful at first, -but Dorrington's manner and the "Crown" whisky overcame the bookmaker's -reserve, and at about eleven o'clock the two left the house arm in -arm for a cooling stroll in the High Street. Dorrington blabbed and -chattered with great success, and soon began about Janissary. - -"So you've pretty well done all you want with Janissary, eh? Book -full? Ah! nothing like keeping a book even all round--it's the safest -way--'specially with such a colt as Janissary about. Eh, my boy?" He -nudged Naylor genially. "Ah! no doubt it's a good colt, but old Telfer -has rum notions about preparation, hasn't he?" - -"I dunno," replied Naylor. "How do you mean?" - -"Why, what does he have the horse led up and down behind the stable -for, half an hour every afternoon?" - -"Didn't know he did." - -"Ah! but he does. I came across it only this afternoon. I was coming -over the downs, and just as I got round behind Telfer's stables there -I saw a fine bay colt, with a white stocking on the off hind leg, well -covered up in a suit of clothes, being led up and down by a lad, like -a sentry--up and down, up and down--about twenty yards each way, and -nobody else about. 'Hullo!' says I to the lad, 'hullo! what horse is -this?' 'Janissary,' says the boy--pretty free for a stable-lad. 'Ah!' -says I. 'And what are you walking him like that for?' 'Dunno,' says the -boy, 'but it's guv'nor's orders. Every afternoon, at two to the minute, -I have to bring him out here and walk him like this for half an hour -exactly, neither more nor less, and then he goes in and has a handful -of malt. But I dunno why.' 'Well,' says I, 'I never heard of that being -done before. But he's a fine colt,' and I put my hand under the cloth -and felt him--hard as nails and smooth as silk." - -"And the boy let you touch him?" - -"Yes; he struck me as a bit easy for a stable-boy. But it's an odd -trick, isn't it, that of the half-hour's walk and the handful of malt? -Never hear of anybody else doing it, did you?" - -"No, I never did." - -They talked and strolled for another quarter of an hour, and then -finished up with one more drink. - - -IV - -The next was the day before the race, and in the morning Dorrington, -making a circuit, came to Mr. Warren Telfer's from the farther side. As -soon as they were assured of privacy: "Have you seen the man with the -red beard this morning?" asked Dorrington. - -"No; I looked out pretty sharply, too." - -"That's right. If you like to fall in with my suggestions, however, you -shall see him at about two o'clock, and take a handsome rise out of -him." - -"Very well," Mr. Telfer replied. "What's your suggestion?" - -"I'll tell you. In the first place, what's the value of that other -horse that looks so like Janissary?" - -"Hamid is his name. He's worth--well, what he will fetch. I'll sell him -for fifty and be glad of the chance." - -"Very good. Then you'll no doubt be glad to risk his health temporarily -to make sure of the Redbury Stakes, and to get longer prices for -anything you may like to put on between now and to-morrow afternoon. -Come to the stables and I'll tell you. But first, is there a place -where we may command a view of the ground behind the stables without -being seen?" - -"Yes, there's a ventilation grating at the back of each stall." - -"Good! Then we'll watch from Hamid's stall, which will be empty. Select -your most wooden-faced and most careful boy, and send him out behind -the stable with Hamid at two o'clock to the moment. Put the horse in a -full suit of clothes--it is necessary to cover up that white star--and -tell the lad he must _lead_ it up and down slowly for twenty yards or -so. I rather expect the red-bearded man will be coming along between -two o'clock and half-past two. You will understand that Hamid is to -be Janissary for the occasion. You must drill your boy to appear a -bit of a fool, and to overcome his stable education sufficiently to -chatter freely--so long as it is the proper chatter. The man may ask -the horse's name, or he may not. Any way, the boy mustn't forget it is -Janissary he is leading. You have an odd fad, you must know (and the -boy must know it too) in the matter of training. This ridiculous fad is -to have your colt walked up and down for half an hour exactly at two -o'clock every afternoon, and then given a handful of malt as he comes -in. The boy can talk as freely about this as he pleases, and also about -the colt's chances, and anything else he likes; and he is to let the -stranger come up, talk to the horse, pat him--in short, to do as he -pleases. Is that plain?" - -"Perfectly. You have found out something about this red-bearded chap -then?" - -"Oh, yes--it's Naylor the bookmaker, as a matter of fact, with a false -beard." - -"What! Naylor?" - -"Yes. You see the idea, of course. Once Naylor thinks he has nobbled -the favourite he will lay it to any extent, and the odds will get -longer. Then you can make him pay for his little games." - -"Well, yes, of course. Though I wouldn't put too much with Naylor in -any case. He's not a big man, and he might break and lose me the lot. -But I can get it out of the others." - -"Just so. You'd better see about schooling your boy now, I think. I'll -tell you more presently." - -A minute or two before two o'clock Dorrington and Telfer, mounted -on a pair of steps, were gazing through the ventilation grating of -Hamid's stall, while the colt, clothed completely, was led round. Then -Dorrington described his operations of the previous evening. - -"No matter what he may think of my tale," he said, "Naylor will be -pretty sure to come. He has tried to bribe your stablemen, and has been -baffled. Every attempt to get hold of the boy in charge of Janissary -has failed, and he will be glad to clutch at any shadow of a chance -to save his money now. Once he is here, and the favourite apparently -at his mercy, the thing is done. By the way, I expect your nephew's -little present to the man you sacked was a fairly innocent one. No -doubt he merely asked the man whether Janissary was keeping well, and -was thought good enough to win, for I find he is backing it pretty -heavily. Naylor came afterwards, with much less innocent intentions, -but fortunately you were down on him in time. Several considerations -induced me to go to Naylor's room. In the first place, I have heard -rather shady tales of his doings on one or two occasions, and he did -not seem a sufficiently big man to stand to lose a great deal over -your horse. Then, when I saw him, I observed that his figure bore a -considerable resemblance to that of the man you had described, except -as regards the red beard and the spectacles--articles easily enough -assumed, and, indeed, often enough used by the scum of the ring whose -trade is welshing. And, apart from these considerations, here, at -any rate, was one man who had an interest in keeping your colt from -winning, and here was his room waiting for me to explore. So I explored -it, and the card turned up trumps." - -As he was speaking, the stable-boy, a stolid-looking youngster, was -leading Hamid back and forth on the turf before their eyes. - -"There's somebody," said Dorrington suddenly, "over in that clump of -trees. Yes--our man, sure enough. I felt pretty sure of him after -you had told me that he hadn't thought it worth while to turn up this -morning. Here he comes." - -Naylor, with his red beard sticking out over the collar of his -big coat, came slouching along with an awkwardly assumed air of -carelessness and absence of mind. - -"Hullo!" he said suddenly, as he came abreast of the horse, turning as -though but now aware of its presence, "that's a valuable sort of horse, -ain't it, my lad?" - -"Yes," said the boy, "it is. He's goin' to win the Redbury Stakes -to-morrow. It's Janissary." - -"Oh! Janey Sairey, is it?" Naylor answered, with a quaint affectation -of gaping ignorance. "Janey Sairey, eh? Well, she do look a fine 'orse, -what I can see of 'er. What a suit o' clo'es! An' so she's one o' the -'orses that runs in races, is she? Well, I never! Pretty much like -other 'orses, too, to look at, ain't she? Only a bit thin in the legs." - -The boy stood carelessly by the colt's side, and the man approached. -His hand came quickly from an inner pocket, and then he passed it under -Hamid's cloths, near the shoulder. "Ah, it do feel a lovely skin, -to be sure!" he said. "An' so there's goin' to be races at Redbury -to-morrow, is there? I dunno anythin' about races myself, an'----Oo my!" - -Naylor sprang back as the horse, flinging back its ears, started -suddenly, swung round, and reared. "Lor," he said, "what a vicious -brute! Jist because I stroked her! I'll be careful about touching -racehorses again." His hand passed stealthily to the pocket again, and -he hurried on his way, while the stable-boy steadied and soothed Hamid. - -[Illustration: "THE HORSE STARTED SUDDENLY, SWUNG ROUND, AND REARED."] - -Telfer and Dorrington sniggered quietly in their concealment. "He's -taken a deal of trouble, hasn't he?" Dorrington remarked. "It's a sad -case of the biter bit for Mr. Naylor, I'm afraid. That was a prick the -colt felt--hypodermic injection with the syringe I saw in the bag, no -doubt. The boy won't be such a fool as to come in again at once, will -he? If Naylor's taking a look back from anywhere, that may make him -suspicious." - -"No fear. I've told him to keep out for the half-hour, and he'll do it. -Dear, dear, what an innocent person Mr. Bob Naylor is! 'Well, I never! -Pretty much like other horses!' He didn't know there were to be -races at Redbury! 'Janey Sairey,' too--it's really very funny!" - -Ere the half-hour was quite over, Hamid came stumbling and dragging -into the stable yard, plainly all amiss, and collapsed on his litter as -soon as he gained his stall. There he lay, shivering and drowsy. - -"I expect he'll get over it in a day or two," Dorrington remarked. "I -don't suppose a vet. could do much for him just now, except, perhaps, -give him a drench and let him take a rest. Certainly, the effect will -last over to-morrow. That's what it is calculated for." - - -V - -The Redbury Stakes were run at three in the afternoon, after two or -three minor events had been disposed of. The betting had undergone -considerable fluctuations during the morning, but in general it ruled -heavily against Janissary. The story had got about, too, that Mr. -Warren Telfer's colt would not start. So that when the numbers went up, -and it was seen that Janissary was starting after all, there was much -astonishment, and a good deal of uneasiness in the ring. - -"It's a pity we can't see our friend Naylor's face just now, isn't it?" -Dorrington remarked to his client, as they looked on from Mr. Telfer's -drag. - -"Yes; it would be interesting," Telfer replied. "He was quite confident -last night, you say." - -"Quite. I tested him by an offer of a small bet on your colt, asking -some points over the odds, and he took it at once. Indeed, I believe -he has been going about gathering up all the wagers he could about -Janissary, and the market has felt it. Your nephew has risked some more -with him, I believe, and altogether it looks as though the town would -spoil the 'bookies' badly." - -As the horses came from the weighing enclosure, Janissary was seen -conspicuous among them, bright, clean, and firm, and a good many faces -lengthened at the sight. The start was not so good as it might have -been, but the favourite (the starting-price had gone to evens) was not -left, and got away well in the crowd of ten starters. There he lay till -rounding the bend, when the Telfer blue and chocolate was seen among -the foremost, and near the rails. Mr. Telfer almost trembled as he -watched through his glasses. - -"Hang that Willett!" he said, almost to himself. "He's _too_ clever -against those rails before getting clear. All right, though, all right! -He's coming!" - -[Illustration: "CAME IN THREE LENGTHS THE WINNER."] - -Janissary, indeed, was showing in front, and as the horses came along -the straight it was plain that Mr. Telfer's colt was holding the field -comfortably. There were changes in the crowd; some dropped away, some -came out and attempted to challenge for the lead, but the favourite, -striding easily, was never seriously threatened, and in the end, being -a little let out, came in a three-lengths winner, never once having -been made to show his best. - -"I congratulate you, Mr. Telfer," said Dorrington, "and you may -congratulate me." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Telfer hastily, hurrying off to lead -in the winner. - -It was a bad race for the ring, and in the open parts of the course -many a humble fielder grabbed his satchel ere the shouting was over, -and made his best pace for the horizon; and more than one pair of false -whiskers, as red as Naylor's, came off suddenly while the owner betook -himself to a fresh stand. Unless a good many outsiders sailed home -before the end of the week there would be a bad Monday for layers. But -all sporting Redbury was jubilant. They had all been "on" the local -favourite for the local race, and it had won. - - -VI - -Mr. Bob Naylor "got a bit back," in his own phrase, on other races -by the end of the week, but all the same he saw a black settling day -ahead. He had been done--done for a certainty. He had realised this -as soon as he saw the numbers go up for the Redbury Stakes. Janissary -had not been drugged after all. That meant that another horse had -been substituted for him, and that the whole thing was an elaborate -plant. He thought he knew Janissary pretty well by sight, too, and -rather prided himself on having an eye for a horse. But clearly it was -a plant--a complete do. Telfer was in it, and so of course was that -gentlemanly stranger who had strolled along Redbury High Street with -him that night, telling that cock-and-bull story about the afternoon -walks and the handful of malt. There was a nice schoolboy tale to take -in a man who thought himself broad as Cheapside! He cursed himself high -and low. To be done, and to know it, was a galling thing, but this -would be worse. The tale would get about. They would boast of a clever -stroke like that, and that would injure him with everybody; with honest -men, because his reputation, as it was, would bear no worsening, and -with knaves like himself, because they would laugh at him, and leave -him out when any little co-operative swindle was in contemplation. But -though the chagrin of the defeat was bitter bad enough, his losses -were worse. He had taken everything offered on Janissary after he had -nobbled the wrong horse, and had given almost any odds demanded. Do as -he might, he could see nothing but a balance against him on Monday, -which, though he might pay out his last cent, he could not cover by -several hundred pounds. - -But on the day he met his customers at his club, as usual, and paid out -freely. Young Richard Telfer, however, with whom he was heavily "in," -he put off till the evening. "I've been a bit disappointed this morning -over some ready that was to be paid over," he said, "and I've used the -last cheque-form in my book. You might come and have a bit of dinner -with me to-night, Mr. Telfer, and take it then." - -Telfer assented without difficulty. - -"All right, then, that's settled. You know the place--Gold Street. -Seven sharp. The missis 'll be pleased to see you, I'm sure, Mr. -Telfer. Let's see--it's fifteen hundred and thirty altogether, isn't -it?" - -"Yes, that's it. I'll come." - -Young Telfer left the club, and at the corner of the street ran against -Dorrington. Telfer, of course, knew him but as his late fellow-guest -at the "Crown" at Redbury, and this was their first meeting in London -after their return from the races. - -"Ah!" said Telfer. "Going to draw a bit of Janissary money, eh?" - -"Oh, I haven't much to draw," Dorrington answered. "But I expect your -pockets are pretty heavy, if you've just come from Naylor." - -"Yes, I've just come from Naylor, but I haven't touched the merry sovs. -just yet," replied Telfer cheerfully. "There's been a run on Naylor, -and I'm going to dine with him and his respectable missis this evening, -and draw the plunder then. I feel rather curious to see what sort of -establishment a man like Naylor keeps going. His place is in Gold -Street, Chelsea." - -"Yes, I believe so. Anyhow, I congratulate you on your haul, and wish -you a merry evening." And the two men parted. - -Dorrington had, indeed, a few pounds to draw as the result of his -"fishing" bet with Naylor, but now he resolved to ask for the money -at his own time. This invitation to Telfer took his attention, and -it reminded him oddly of the circumstances detailed in the report of -the inquest on Lawrence, transcribed at the beginning of this paper. -He had cut out this report at the time it appeared, because he saw -certain singularities about the case, and he had filed it, as he had -done hundreds of other such cuttings. And now certain things led him to -fancy that he might be much interested to observe the proceedings at -Naylor's house on the evening after a bad settling-day. He resolved to -gratify himself with a strict professional watch in Gold Street that -evening, on chance of something coming of it. For it was an important -thing in Dorrington's rascally trade to get hold of as much of other -people's private business as possible, and to know exactly in what -cupboard to find every man's skeleton. For there was no knowing but -it might be turned into money sooner or later. So he found the number -of Naylor's house from the handiest directory, and at six o'clock, a -little disguised by a humbler style of dress than usual, he began his -watch. - -Naylor's house was at the corner of a turning, with the flank wall -blank of windows, except for one at the top; and a public-house stood -at the opposite corner. Dorrington, skilled in watching without -attracting attention to himself, now lounged in the public-house bar, -now stood at the street corner, and now sauntered along the street, -a picture of vacancy of mind, and looking, apparently, at everything -in turn, except the house at the corner. The first thing he noted was -the issuing forth from the area steps of a healthy-looking girl in -much gaily be-ribboned finery. Plainly a servant taking an evening -out. This was an odd thing, that a servant should be allowed out on an -evening when a guest was expected to dinner; and the house looked like -one where it was more likely that one servant would be kept than two. -Dorrington hurried after the girl, and, changing his manner of address -to that of a civil labourer, said-- - -"Beg pardon, Miss, but is Mary Walker still in service at your 'ouse?" - -"Mary Walker?" said the girl. "Why, no. I never 'eard the name. And -there ain't nobody in service there but me." - -"Beg pardon--it must be the wrong 'ouse. It's my cousin, Miss, that's -all." - -Dorrington left the girl and returned to the public-house. As he -reached it he perceived a second noticeable thing. Although it was -broad daylight, there was now a light behind the solitary window at the -top of the side-wall of Naylor's house. Dorrington slipped through the -swing-doors of the public-house and watched through the glass. - -It was a bare room behind the high window--it might have been a -bathroom--and its interior was made but dimly visible from outside -by the light. A tall, thin woman was setting up an ordinary pair of -house-steps in the middle of the room. This done, she turned to the -window and pulled down the blind, and as she did so Dorrington noted -her very extreme thinness, both of face and body. When the blind -was down the light still remained within. Again there seemed some -significance in this. It appeared that the thin woman had waited until -her servant had gone before doing whatever she had to do in that room. -Presently the watcher came again into Gold Street, and from there -caught a passing glimpse of the thin woman as she moved busily about -the front room over the breakfast parlour. - -Clearly, then, the light above had been left for future use. Dorrington -thought for a minute, and then suddenly stopped, with a snap of the -fingers. He saw it all now. Here was something altogether in his way. -He would take a daring course. - -He withdrew once more to the public-house, and ordering another drink, -took up a position in a compartment from which he could command a view -both of Gold Street and the side turning. The time now, he saw by his -watch, was ten minutes to seven. He had to wait rather more than a -quarter of an hour before seeing Richard Telfer come walking jauntily -down Gold Street, mount the steps, and knock at Naylor's door. There -was a momentary glimpse of the thin woman's face at the door, and then -Telfer entered. - -It now began to grow dusk, and in about twenty minutes more Dorrington -took to the street again. The room over the breakfast-parlour was -clearly the dining-room. It was lighted brightly, and by intent -listening the watcher could distinguish, now and again, a sudden burst -of laughter from Telfer, followed by the deeper grunts of Naylor's -voice, and once by sharp tones that it seemed natural to suppose were -the thin woman's. - -Dorrington waited no longer, but slipped a pair of thick sock-feet over -his shoes, and, after a quick look along the two streets, to make sure -nobody was near, he descended the area steps. There was no light in the -breakfast-parlour. With his knife he opened the window-catch, raised -the sash quietly and stepped over the sill, and stood in the dark room -within. - -All was quiet, except for the talking in the room above. He had done -but what many thieves--"parlour-jumpers"--do every day; but there was -more ahead. He made his way silently to the basement passage, and -passed into the kitchen. The room was lighted, and cookery utensils -were scattered about, but nobody was there. He waited till he heard a -request in Naylor's gruff voice for "another slice" of something, and -noiselessly mounted the stairs. He noticed that the dining-room door -was ajar, but passed quickly on to the second flight, and rested on the -landing above. Mrs. Naylor would probably have to go downstairs once -or twice again, but he did not expect anybody in the upper part of the -house just yet. There was a small flight of stairs above the landing -whereon he stood, leading to the servant's bedroom and the bathroom. He -took a glance at the bathroom with its feeble lamp, its steps, and its -open ceiling-trap, and returned again to the bedroom landing. There he -stood, waiting watchfully. - -Twice the thin woman emerged from the dining-room, went downstairs and -came up again, each time with food and plates. Then she went down once -more, and was longer gone. Meantime Naylor and Telfer were talking and -joking loudly at the table. - -When once again Dorrington saw the crown of the thin woman's head -rising over the bottom stair, he perceived that she bore a tray set -with cups already filled with coffee. These she carried into the -dining-room, whence presently came the sound of striking matches. After -this the conversation seemed to flag, and Telfer's part in it grew less -and less, till it ceased altogether, and the house was silent, except -for a sound of heavy breathing. Soon this became almost a snore, and -then there was a sudden noisy tumble, as of a drunken man; but still -the snoring went on, and the Naylors were talking in whispers. - -There was a shuffling and heaving sound, and a chair was knocked over. -Then at the dining-room door appeared Naylor, walking backward, and -carrying the inert form of Telfer by the shoulders, while the thin -woman followed, supporting the feet. Dorrington retreated up the small -stair-flight, cocking a pocket revolver as he went. - -Up the stairs they came, Naylor puffing and grunting with the exertion, -and Telfer still snoring soundly on, till at last, having mounted the -top flight, they came in at the bathroom door, where Dorrington stood -to receive them, smiling and bowing pleasantly, with his hat in one -hand and his revolver in the other. - -The woman, from her position, saw him first, and dropped Telfer's legs -with a scream. Naylor turned his head and then also dropped his end. -The drugged man fell in a heap, snoring still. - -Naylor, astounded and choking, made as if to rush at the interloper, -but Dorrington thrust the revolver into his face, and exclaimed, -still smiling courteously, "Mind, mind! It's a dangerous thing, is a -revolver, and apt to go off if you run against it!" - -He stood thus for a second, and then stepped forward and took the -woman--who seemed like to swoon--by the arm, and pulled her into the -room. "Come, Mrs. Naylor," he said, "you're not one of the fainting -sort, and I think I'd better keep two such clever people as you under -my eye, or one of you may get into mischief. Come now, Naylor, we'll -talk business." - -Naylor, now white as a ghost, sat on the edge of the bath, and stared -at Dorrington as though in a fascination of terror. His hands rested on -the bath at each side, and an odd sound of gurgling came from his thick -throat. - -"We will talk business," Dorrington resumed. "Come, you've met me -before now, you know--at Redbury. You can't have forgotten Janissary, -and the walking exercise and the handful of malt. I'm afraid you're a -clumsy sort of rascal, Naylor, though you do your best. I'm a rascal -myself (though I don't often confess it), and I assure you that your -conceptions are crude as yet. Still, that isn't a bad notion in its -way, that of drugging a man and drowning him in your cistern up there -in the roof, when you prefer not to pay him his winnings. It has the -very considerable merit that, after the body has been fished out of any -river you may choose to fling it into, the stupid coroner's jury will -never suspect that it was drowned in any other water but that. Just as -happened in the Lawrence case, for instance. You remember that, eh? So -do I, very well, and it was because I remembered that that I paid you -this visit to-night. But you do the thing much too clumsily, really. -When I saw a light up here in broad daylight I knew at once it must be -left for some purpose to be executed later in the evening; and when -I saw the steps carefully placed at the same time, after the servant -had been sent out, why the thing was plain, remembering, as I did, the -curious coincidence that Mr. Lawrence was drowned the very evening he -had been here to take away his winnings. The steps _must_ be intended -to give access to the roof, where there was probably a tank to feed -the bath, and what more secret place to drown a man than there? And -what easier place, so long as the man was well drugged, and there was a -strong lid to the tank? As I say, Naylor, your notion was meritorious, -but your execution was wretched--perhaps because you had no notion that -I was watching you." - -He paused, and then went on. "Come," he said, "collect your scattered -faculties, both of you. I shan't hand you over to the police for this -little invention of yours; it's too useful an invention to give away -to the police. I shan't hand you over, that is to say, as long as you -do as I tell you. If you get mutinous, you shall hang, both of you, -for the Lawrence business. I may as well tell you that I'm a bit of a -scoundrel myself, by way of profession. I don't boast about it, but -it's well to be frank in making arrangements of this sort. I'm going to -take you into my service. I employ a few agents, and you and your tank -may come in very handy from time to time. But we must set it up, with -a few improvements, in another house--a house which hasn't quite such -an awkward window. And we mustn't execute our little suppressions so -regularly on settling-day; it looks suspicious. So as soon as you can -get your faculties together we'll talk over this thing." - -The man and the woman had exchanged glances during this speech, and now -Naylor asked, huskily, jerking his thumb toward the man on the floor, -"An'--an' what about 'im?" - -"What about him? Why, get rid of him as soon as you like. Not that -way, though." (He pointed toward the ceiling trap.) "It doesn't pay -_me_, and I'm master now. Besides, what will people say when you tell -the same tale at his inquest that you told at Lawrence's? No, my -friend, bookmaking and murder don't assort together, profitable as the -combination may seem. Settling-days are too regular. And I'm not going -to be your accomplice, mind. You are going to be mine. Do what you -please with Telfer. Leave him on somebody's doorstep if you like." - -"But I owe him fifteen hundred, and I ain't got more than half of it! -I'll be ruined!" - -"Very likely," Dorrington returned placidly. "Be ruined as soon as -possible, then, and devote all your time to my business. You're not -to ornament the ring any longer, remember--you're to assist a private -inquiry agent, you and your wife and your charming tank. Repudiate the -debt if you like--it's a mere gaming transaction, and there is no legal -claim--or leave him in the street and tell him he's been robbed. Please -yourself as to this little roguery--you may as well, for it's the -last you will do on your own account. For the future your respectable -talents will be devoted to the service of Dorrington & Hicks, private -inquiry agents; and if you don't give satisfaction, that eminent firm -will hang you, with the assistance of the judge at the Old Bailey. So -settle your business yourselves, and quickly, for I've a good many -things to arrange with you." - -And, Dorrington watching them continually, they took Telfer out by the -side gate in the garden wall and left him in a dark corner. - - * * * * * - -Thus I learnt the history of the horrible tank that had so nearly ended -my own life, as I have already related. Clearly the Naylors had changed -their name to Crofting on taking compulsory service with Dorrington, -and Mrs. Naylor was the repulsively thin woman who had drugged me with -her coffee in the house at Highgate. The events I have just recorded -took place about three years before I came to England. In the meantime -how many people, whose deaths might be turned to profit, had fallen -victims to the murderous cunning of Dorrington and his tools? - - - - - THE CASE OF THE "MIRROR OF - PORTUGAL" - - - - -III - -The Case of the "Mirror of Portugal" - - -I - -Whether or not this case has an historical interest is a matter of -conjecture. If it has none, then the title I have given it is a -misnomer. But I think the conjecture that some historical interest -attaches to it is by no means an empty one, and all that can be urged -against it is the common though not always declared error that romance -expired fifty years at least ago, and history with it. This makes it -seem improbable that the answer to an unsolved riddle of a century -since should be found to-day in an inquiry agent's dingy office in -Bedford Street, Covent Garden. Whether or not it has so been found -the reader may judge for himself, though the evidence stops far short -of actual proof of the identity of the "Mirror of Portugal" with the -stone wherewith this case was concerned. - -But first, as to the "Mirror of Portugal." This was a diamond of much -and ancient fame. It was of Indian origin, and it had lain in the -possession of the royal family of Portugal in the time of Portugal's -ancient splendour. But three hundred years ago, after the extinction -of the early line of succession, the diamond, with other jewels, fell -into the possession of Don Antonio, one of the half-dozen pretenders -who were then scrambling for the throne. Don Antonio, badly in want -of money, deposited the stone in pledge with Queen Elizabeth of -England, and never redeemed it. Thus it took its place as one of the -English Crown jewels, and so remained till the overthrow and death -of Charles the First. Queen Henrietta then carried it with her to -France, and there, to obtain money to satisfy her creditors, she sold -it to the great Cardinal Mazarin. He bequeathed it, at his death, to -the French Crown, and among the Crown jewels of France it once more -found a temporary abiding place. But once more it brought disaster -with it in the shape of a revolution, and again a king lost his head -at the executioner's hands. And in the riot and confusion of the -great Revolution of 1792 the "Mirror of Portugal," with other jewels, -vanished utterly. Where it went to, and who took it, nobody ever knew. -The "Mirror of Portugal" disappeared as suddenly and effectually as -though fused to vapour by electric combustion. - -So much for the famous "Mirror." Whether or not its history is germane -to the narrative which follows, probably nobody will ever certainly -know. But that Dorrington considered that it was, his notes on the case -abundantly testify. - -For some days before Dorrington's attention was in any way given -to this matter, a poorly-dressed and not altogether prepossessing -Frenchman had been haunting the staircase and tapping at the office -door, unsuccessfully attempting an interview with Dorrington, who -happened to be out, or busy, whenever he called. The man never asked -for Hicks, Dorrington's partner; but this was very natural. In the -first place, it was always Dorrington who met all strangers and -conducted all negotiations, and in the second, Dorrington had just -lately, in a case regarding a secret society in Soho, made his name -much known and respected, not to say feared, in the foreign colony of -that quarter; wherefore it was likely that a man who bore evidence of -residence in that neighbourhood should come with the name of Dorrington -on his tongue. - -The weather was cold, but the man's clothes were thin and threadbare, -and he had no overcoat. His face was of a broad, low type, coarse in -feature and small in forehead, and he wore the baggy black linen peaked -cap familiar on the heads of men of his class in parts of Paris. He had -called unsuccessfully, as I have said, sometimes once, sometimes more -frequently, on each of three or four days before he succeeded in seeing -Dorrington. At last, however, he intercepted him on the stairs, as -Dorrington arrived at about eleven in the morning. - -"Pardon, m'sieu," he said, laying his finger on Dorrington's arm, "it -is M. Dorrington--not?" - -"Well--suppose it is, what then?" Dorrington never admitted his -identity to a stranger without first seeing good cause. - -"I 'ave beesness--very great beesness; beesness of a large profit for -you if you please to take it. Where shall I tell it?" - -"Come in here," Dorrington replied, leading the way to his private -room. The man did not look like a wealthy client, but that signified -nothing. Dorrington had made profitable strokes after introductions -even less promising. - -The man followed Dorrington, pulled off his cap, and sat in the chair -Dorrington pointed at. - -"In the first place," said Dorrington, "what's your name?" - -"Ah, yas--but before--all that I tell is for ourselves alone, is it -not? It is all in confidence, eh?" - -"Yes, yes, of course," Dorrington answered, with virtuous impatience. -"Whatever is said in this room is regarded as strictly confidential. -What's your name?" - -"Jacques Bouvier." - -"Living at----?" - -"Little Norham Street, Soho." - -"And now the business you speak of." - -"The beesness is this. My cousin, Léon Bouvier--he is _coquin_--a -rrrascal!" - -"Very likely." - -"He has a great jewel--it is, I have no doubt, a diamond--of a great -value. It is not his! There is no right of him to it! It should be -mine. If you get it for me one-quarter of it in money shall be yours! -And it is of a great value." - -"Where does your cousin live? What is he?" - -"Beck Street, Soho. He has a shop--a café--Café des Bons Camarades. And -he give me not a crrrust--if I starve!" - -It scarcely seemed likely that the keeper of a little foreign café in -a back street of Soho would be possessed of a jewel a quarter of whose -value would be prize enough to tempt Dorrington to take a new case up. -But Dorrington bore with the man a little longer. "What is this jewel -you talk of?" he asked. "And if you don't know enough about it to be -quite sure whether it is a diamond or not, what _do_ you know?" - -"Listen! The stone I have never seen; but that it is a diamond makes -probable. What else so much value? And it is much value that gives my -cousin so great care and trouble--_cochon!_ Listen! I relate to you. -My father--he was charcoal-burner at Bonneuil, department of Seine. -My uncle--the father of my cousin--also was charcoal-burner. The -grandfather--charcoal-burner also; and his father and his grandfather -before him--all burners of charcoal, at Bonneuil. Now perceive. The -father of my grandfather was of the great Revolution--a young man, -great among those who stormed the Bastille, the Tuileries, the Hôtel -de Ville, brave, and a leader. Now, when palaces were burnt and -heads were falling there was naturally much confusion. Things were -lost--things of large value. What more natural? While so many were -losing the head from the shoulders, it was not strange that some should -lose jewels from the neck. And when these things were lost, who might -have a greater right to keep them than the young men of the Revolution, -the brave, and the leaders, they who did the work?" - -"If you mean that your respectable great-grandfather stole something, -you needn't explain it any more," Dorrington said. "I quite understand." - -"I do not say stole; when there is a great revolution a thing is -anybody's. But it would not be convenient to tell of it at the time, -for the new Government might believe everything to be its own. These -things I do not know, you will understand--I suggest an explanation, -that is all. After the great Revolution, my great-grandfather lives -alone and quiet, and burns the charcoal as before. Why? The jewel is -too great to sell so soon. So he gives it to his son and dies. He also, -my grandfather, still burns the charcoal. Again, why? Because, as I -believe, he is too poor, too common a man to go about openly to sell -so great a stone. More, he loves the stone, for with that he is always -rich; and so he burns his charcoal and lives contented as his father -had done, and he is rich, and nobody knows it. What then? He has two -sons. When he dies, which son does he leave the stone to? Each one says -it is for himself--that is natural. I say it was for my father. But -however that may make itself, my father dies suddenly. He falls in a -pit--by accident, says his brother; not by accident, says my mother; -and soon after, she dies too. By accident too, perhaps you ask? Oh -yes, by accident too, no doubt." The man laughed disagreeably. "So I -am left alone, a little boy, to burn charcoal. When I am a bigger boy -there comes the great war, and the Prussians besiege Paris. My uncle, -he, burning charcoal no more, goes at night, and takes things from the -dead Prussians. Perhaps they are not always quite dead when he finds -them--perhaps he makes them so. Be that as it will, the Prussians take -him one dark night; and they stand him against a garden wall, and pif! -paf! they shoot him. That is all of my uncle; but he dies a rich man, -and nobody knows. What does his wife do? She has the jewel, and she -has a little money that has been got from the dead Prussians. So when -the war is over, she comes to London with my cousin, the bad Léon, -and she has the café--Café des Bons Camarades. And Léon grows up, and -his mother dies, and he has the café, and with the jewel is a rich -man--nobody knowing; nobody but me. But, figure to yourself; shall I -burn charcoal and starve at Bonneuil with a rich cousin in London--rich -with a diamond that should be mine? Not so. I come over, and Léon, at -first he lets me wait at the café. But I do not want that--there is the -stone, and I can never see it, never find it. So one day Léon finds me -looking in a box, and--chut! out I go. I tell Léon that I will share -the jewel with him or I will tell the police. He laughs at me--there is -no jewel, he says--I am mad. I do not tell the police, for that is to -lose it altogether. But I come here and I offer you one quarter of the -diamond if you shall get it." - -"Steal it for you, eh?" - -Jacques Bouvier shrugged his shoulders. "The word is as you please," -he said. "The jewel is not his. And if there is delay it will be gone. -Already he goes each day to Hatton Garden, leaving his wife to keep the -Café des Bons Camarades. Perhaps he is selling the jewel to-day! Who -can tell? So that it will be well that you begin at once." - -"Very well. My fee in advance will be twenty guineas." - -"What? _Dieu!_--I have no money, I tell you! Get the diamond, and there -is one quarter--twenty-five per cent.--for you!" - -"But what guarantee do you give that this story of yours isn't all -a hoax? Can you expect me to take everything on trust, and work for -nothing?" - -The man rose and waved his arms excitedly. "It is true, I say!" he -exclaimed. "It is a fortune! There is much for you, and it will pay! I -have no money, or you should have some. What can I do? You will lose -the chance if you are foolish!" - -"It rather seems to me, my friend, that I shall be foolish to give -valuable time to gratifying your cock-and-bull fancies. See here now. -I'm a man of business, and my time is fully occupied. You come here -and waste half an hour or more of it with a long rigmarole about some -valuable article that you say yourself you have never seen, and you -don't even know whether it is a diamond or not. You wander at large -over family traditions which you may believe yourself or may not. -You have no money, and you offer no fee as a guarantee of your _bonâ -fides_, and the sum of the thing is that you ask me to go and commit -a theft--to purloin an article you can't even describe, and then to -give you three-quarters of the proceeds. No, my man, you have made a -mistake. You must go away from here at once, and if I find you hanging -about my door again I shall have you taken away very summarily. Do you -understand? Now go away." - -"_Mon Dieu!_ But----" - -"I've no more time to waste," Dorrington answered, opening the door and -pointing to the stairs. "If you stay here any longer you'll get into -trouble." - -[Illustration: "SIR YOU ARE A VER' BIG FOOL--A FOOL!"] - -Jacques Bouvier walked out, muttering and agitating his hands. At -the top stair he turned and, almost too angry for words, burst out, -"Sir--you are a ver' big fool--a fool!" But Dorrington slammed the -door. - -He determined, however, if he could find a little time, to learn a -little more of Léon Bouvier--perhaps to put a man to watch at the -Café des Bons Camarades. That the keeper of this place in Soho should -go regularly to Hatton Garden, the diamond market, was curious, and -Dorrington had met and analysed too many extraordinary romances to put -aside unexamined Jacques Bouvier's seemingly improbable story. But, -having heard all the man had to say, it had clearly been his policy -to get rid of him in the way he had done. Dorrington was quite ready -to steal a diamond, or anything else of value, if it could be done -quite safely, but he was no such fool as to give three-quarters of his -plunder--or any of it--to somebody else. So that the politic plan was -to send Jacques Bouvier away with the impression that his story was -altogether pooh-poohed and was to be forgotten. - - -II - -Dorrington left his office late that day, and the evening being clear, -though dark, he walked toward Conduit Street by way of Soho; he thought -to take a glance at the Café des Bons Camarades on his way, without -being observed, should Jacques Bouvier be in the vicinity. - -Beck Street, Soho, was a short and narrow street lying east and -west, and joining two of the larger streets that stretch north and -south across the district. It was even a trifle dirtier than these -by-streets in that quarter are wont to be. The Café des Bons Camarades -was a little green-painted shop the window whereof was backed by -muslin curtains, while upon the window itself appeared in florid -painted letters the words "Cuisine Française." It was the only shop -in the street, with the exception of a small coal and firewood shed -at one end, the other buildings consisting of the side wall of a -factory, now closed for the night, and a few tenement houses. An alley -entrance--apparently the gate of a stable-yard--stood next the café. -As Dorrington walked by the steamy window, he was startled to hear -his own name and some part of his office address spoken in excited -tones somewhere in this dark alley entrance; and suddenly a man rather -well dressed, and cramming a damaged tall hat on his head as he went, -darted from the entrance and ran in the direction from which Dorrington -had come. A stoutly built Frenchwoman, carrying on her face every -indication of extreme excitement, watched him from the gateway, and -Dorrington made no doubt that it was in her voice that he had heard -his name mentioned. He walked briskly to the end of the short street, -turned at the end, and hurried round the block of houses, in hope -to catch another sight of the man. Presently he saw him, running, -in Old Compton Street, and making in the direction of Charing Cross -Road. Dorrington mended his pace, and followed. The man emerged where -Shaftesbury Avenue meets Charing Cross Road, and, as he crossed, -hesitated once or twice, as though he thought of hailing a cab, but -decided rather to trust his own legs. He hastened through the byways -to St. Martin's Lane, and Dorrington now perceived that one side and -half the back of his coat was dripping with wet mud. Also it was plain, -as Dorrington had suspected, that his destination was Dorrington's own -office in Bedford Street. So the follower broke into a trot, and at -last came upon the muddy man wrenching at the bell and pounding at the -closed door of the house in Bedford Street, just as the housekeeper -began to turn the lock. - -"M'sieu Dorrington--M'sieu Dorrington!" the man exclaimed, excitedly, -as the door was opened. - -"'E's gawn 'ome long ago," the caretaker growled; "you might 'a known -that. Oh, 'ere 'e is though--good evenin', sir." - -"I am Mr. Dorrington," the inquiry agent said politely. "Can I do -anything for you?" - -"Ah yes--it is important--at once! I am robbed!" - -"Just step upstairs, then, and tell me about it." - -Dorrington had but begun to light the gas in his office when his -visitor broke out, "I am robbed, M'sieu Dorrington, robbed by my -cousin--_coquin!_ Rrrobbed of everything! Rrrobbed I tell you!" -He seemed astonished to find the other so little excited by the -intelligence. - -"Let me take your coat," Dorrington said, calmly. "You've had a downer -in the mud, I see. Why, what's this?" he smelt the collar as he went -toward a hat-peg. "Chloroform!" - -"Ah yes--it is that rrrascal Jacques! I will tell you. This evening I -go into the gateway next my house--Café des Bons Camarades--to enter -by the side-door, and--paf!--a shawl is fling across my face from -behind--it is pull tight--there is a knee in my back--I can catch -nothing with my hand--it smell all hot in my throat--I choke and I fall -over--there is no more. I wake up and I see my wife, and she take me -into the house. I am all muddy and tired, but I feel--and I have lost -my property--it is a diamond--and my cousin Jacques, he has done it!" - -"Are you sure of that?" - -"Sure? Oh yes--it is certain, I tell you--certain!" - -"Then why not inform the police?" - -The visitor was clearly taken aback by this question. He faltered, -and looked searchingly in Dorrington's face. "That is not always the -convenient way," he said. "I would rather that you do it. It is the -diamond that I want--not to punish my cousin--thief that he is!" - -Dorrington mended a quill with ostentatious care, saying encouragingly -as he did so, "I can quite understand that you may not wish to -prosecute your cousin--only to recover the diamond you speak of. Also -I can quite understand that there may be reasons--family reasons -perhaps, perhaps others--which may render it inadvisable to make even -the existence of the jewel known more than absolutely necessary. For -instance, there may be other claimants, Monsieur Léon Bouvier." - -The visitor started. "You know my name then?" he asked. "How is that?" - -Dorrington smiled the smile of a sphinx. "M. Bouvier," he said, "it is -my trade to know everything--everything." He put the pen down and gazed -whimsically at the other. "My agents are everywhere. You talk of the -secret agent of the Russian police--they are nothing. It is my trade -to know all things. For instance"--Dorrington unlocked a drawer and -produced a book (it was but an office diary), and, turning its pages, -went on. "Let me see--B. It is my trade, for instance, to know about -the Café des Bons Camarades, established by the late Madame Bouvier, -now unhappily deceased. It is my trade to know of Madame Bouvier at -Bonneuil, where the charcoal was burnt, and where Madame Bouvier was -unfortunately left a widow at the time of the siege of Paris, because -of some lamentable misunderstanding of her husband's with a file -of Prussian soldiers by an orchard wall. It is my trade, moreover, -to know something of the sad death of that husband's brother--in -a pit--and of the later death of his widow. Oh yes. More" (turning -a page attentively, as though following detailed notes), "it is my -trade to know of a little quarrel between those brothers--it might -even have been about a diamond, just such a diamond as you have come -about to-night--and of jewels missed from the Tuileries in the great -Revolution a hundred years ago." He shut the book with a bang and -returned it to its place. "And there are other things--too many to talk -about," he said, crossing his legs and smiling calmly at the Frenchman. - -During this long pretence at reading, Bouvier had slid farther and -farther forward on his chair, till he sat on the edge, his eyes staring -wide, and his chin dropped. He had been pale when he arrived, but now -he was of a leaden gray. He said not a word. - -Dorrington laughed lightly. "Come," he said, "I see you are astonished. -Very likely. Very few of the people and families whose _dossiers_ we -have here" (he waved his hand generally about the room) "are aware of -what we know. But we don't make a song of it, I assure you, unless -it is for the benefit of clients. A client's affairs are sacred, of -course, and our resources are at his disposal. Do I understand that -you become a client?" - -Bouvier sat a little farther back on his chair and closed his mouth. -"A--a--yes," he answered at length, with an effort, moistening his lips -as he spoke. "That is why I come." - -"Ah, now we shall understand each other," Dorrington replied genially, -opening an ink-pot and clearing his blotting-pad. "We're not connected -with the police here, or anything of that sort, and except so far as -we can help them we leave our client's affairs alone. You wish to be -a client, and you wish me to recover your lost diamond. Very well, -that is business. The first thing is the usual fee in advance--twenty -guineas. Will you write a cheque?" - -Bouvier had recovered some of his self-possession, and he hesitated. -"It is a large fee," he said. - -"Large? Nonsense! It is the sort of fee that might easily be swallowed -up in half a day's expenses. And besides--a rich diamond merchant like -yourself!" - -Bouvier looked up quickly. "Diamond merchant?" he said. "I do not -understand. I have lost my diamond--there was but one." - -"And yet you go to Hatton Garden every day." - -"What!" cried Bouvier, letting his hand fall from the table, "you know -that too?" - -"Of course," Dorrington laughed, easily; "it is my trade, I tell you. -But write the cheque." - -Bouvier produced a crumpled and dirty cheque-book and complied, with -many pauses, looking up dazedly from time to time into Dorrington's -face. - -"Now," said Dorrington, "tell me where you kept your diamond, and all -about it." - -"It was in an old little wooden box--so." Bouvier, not yet quite master -of himself, sketched an oblong of something less than three inches -long by two broad. "The box was old and black--my grandfather may have -made it, or his father. The lid fitted very tight, and the inside was -packed with fine charcoal powder with the diamond resting in it. The -diamond--oh, it was great; like that--so." He made another sketch, -roughly square, an inch and a quarter across. "But it looked even much -greater still, so bright, so wonderful! It is easy to understand that -my grandfather did not sell it--beside the danger. It is so beautiful -a thing, and it is such great riches--all in one little box. Why -should not a poor charcoal-burner be rich in secret, and look at his -diamond, and get all the few things he wants by burning his charcoal? -And there was the danger. But that is long ago. I am a man of beesness, -and I desired to sell it and be rich. And that Jacques--he has stolen -it!" - -"Let us keep to the point. The diamond was in a box. Well, where was -the box?" - -"On the outside of the box there were notches--so, and so. Round the -box at each place there was a tight, strong, silk cord--that is two -cords. The cords were round my neck, under my shirt, so. And the box -was under my arm--just as a boy carries his satchel, but high up--in -the armpit, where I could feel it at all times. To-night, when I come -to myself, my collar was broken at the stud--see--the cords were -cut--and all was gone!" - -"You say your cousin Jacques has done this. How do you know?" - -"Ah! But who else? Who else could know? And he has always tried to -steal it. At first, I let him wait at the Café des Bons Camarades. What -does he do? He prys about my house, and opens drawers; and I catch him -at last looking in a box, and I turn him out. And he calls me a thief! -_Sacré!_ He goes--I have no more of him; and so--he does this!" - -"Very well. Write down his name and address on this piece of paper, and -your own." Bouvier did so. "And now tell me what you have been doing at -Hatton Garden." - -"Well, it was a very great diamond--I could not go to the first man and -show it to sell. I must make myself known." - -"It never struck you to get the stone cut in two, did it?" - -"Eh? What?--_Nom de chien!_ No!" He struck his knee with his hand. -"Fool! Why did I not think of that? But still"--he grew more -thoughtful--"I should have to show it to get it cut, and I did not know -where to go. And the value would have been less." - -"Just so--but it's the regular thing to do, I may tell you, in cases -like this. But go on. About Hatton Garden, you know." - -"I thought that I must make myself known among the merchants of -diamonds, and then, perhaps, I should learn the ways, and one day be -able to sell. As it was, I knew nothing--nothing at all. I waited, and -I saved money in the café. Then, when I could do it, I dressed well -and went and bought some diamonds of a dealer--very little diamonds, -a little trayful for twenty pounds, and I try to sell them again. But -I have paid too much--I can only sell for fifteen pounds. Then I buy -more, and sell them for what I give. Then I take an office in Hatton -Garden--that is, I share a room with a dealer, and there is a partition -between our desks. My wife attends the café, I go to Hatton Garden -to buy and sell. It loses me money, but I must lose till I can sell -the great diamond. I get to know the dealers more and more, and then -to-night, as I go home----" he finished with an expressive shrug and a -wave of the hand. - -"Yes, yes, I think I see," Dorrington said. "As to the diamond again. -It doesn't happen to be a _blue_ diamond, does it?" - -"No--pure white; perfect." - -Dorrington had asked because two especially famous diamonds disappeared -from among the French Crown jewels at the time of the great Revolution. -One blue, the greatest coloured diamond ever known, and the other -the "Mirror of Portugal." Bouvier's reply made it plain that it was -certainly not the first which he had just lost. - -"Come," Dorrington said, "I will call and inspect the scene of your -disaster. I haven't dined yet, and it must be well past nine o'clock -now." - -They returned to Beck Street. There were gates at the dark entry by the -side of the Café des Bons Camarades, but they were never shut, Bouvier -explained. Dorrington had them shut now, however, and a lantern was -produced. The paving was of rough cobble stones, deep in mud. - -"Do many people come down here in the course of an evening?" Dorrington -asked. - -"Never anybody but myself." - -"Very well. Stand away at your side door." - -[Illustration: "DORRINGTON, WITH THE LANTERN, EXPLORED THE MUDDY COBBLE -STONES."] - -Bouvier and his wife stood huddled and staring on the threshold of -the side door, while Dorrington, with the lantern, explored the muddy -cobble stones. The pieces of a broken bottle lay in a little heap, -and a cork lay a yard away from them. Dorrington smelt the cork, and -then collected together the broken glass (there were but four or five -pieces) from the little heap. Another piece of glass lay by itself a -little way off, and this also Dorrington took up, scrutinising it -narrowly. Then he traversed the whole passage carefully, stepping from -bare stone to bare stone, and skimming the ground with the lantern. The -mud lay confused and trackless in most places, though the place where -Bouvier had been lying was indicated by an appearance of sweeping, -caused, no doubt, by his wife dragging him to his feet. Only one other -thing beside the glass and cork did Dorrington carry away as evidence, -and that the Bouviers knew nothing of; for it was the remembrance of -the mark of a sharp, small boot-heel in more than one patch of mud -between the stones. - -"Will you object, Madame Bouvier," he asked, as he handed back the -lantern, "to show me the shoes you wore when you found your husband -lying out here?" - -Madame Bouvier had no objection at all. They were what she was then -wearing, and had worn all day. She lifted her foot and exhibited one. -There was no need for a second glance. It was a loose easy cashmere -boot, with spring sides and heels cut down flat for indoor comfort. - -"And this was at what time?" - -It was between seven and eight o'clock, both agreed, though they -differed a little as to the exact time. Bouvier had recovered when his -wife raised him, had entered the house with her, at once discovered -his loss, and immediately, on his wife's advice, set out to find -Dorrington, whose name the woman had heard spoken of frequently among -the visitors to the café in connection with the affair of the secret -society already alluded to. He had felt certain that Dorrington would -not be at his office, but trusted to be directed where to find him. - -"Now," Dorrington asked of Bouvier (the woman had been called away), -"tell me some more about your cousin. Where does he live?" - -"In Little Norham Street; the third house from this end on the right -and the back room at the top. That is unless he has moved just lately." - -"Has he been ill recently?" - -"Ill?" Bouvier considered. "Not that I can say--no. I have never heard -of Jacques being ill." It seemed to strike him as an incongruous and -new idea. "Nothing has made him ill all his life--he is too good in -constitution, I think." - -"Does he wear spectacles?" - -"Spectacles? _Mais non!_ Never! Why should he wear spectacles? His eyes -are good as mine." - -"Very well. Now attend. To-morrow you must not go to Hatton Garden--I -will go for you. If you see your cousin Jacques you must say nothing, -take no notice; let everything proceed as though nothing had happened; -leave all to me. Give me your address at Hatton Garden." - -"But what is it you must do there?" - -"That is my business. I do my business in my own way. Still I will give -you a hint. Where is it that diamonds are sold? In Hatton Garden, as -you so well know--as I expect your cousin knows if he has been watching -you. Then where will your cousin go to sell it? Hatton Garden, of -course. Never mind what I shall do there to intercept it. I am to be -your new partner, you understand, bringing money into the business. You -must be ill and stay at home till you hear from me. Go now and write me -a letter of introduction to the man who shares the office with you. Or -I will write it if you like, and you shall sign it. What sort of a man -is he?" - -"Very quiet--a tall man, perhaps English, but perhaps not." - -"Ever buy or sell diamonds with him?" - -"Once only. It was the first time. That is how I learned of the -half-office to let." - -The letter was written, and Dorrington stuffed it carelessly into his -pocket. "Mr. Hamer is the name, is it?" he said. "I fancy I have met -him somewhere. He is short-sighted, isn't he?" - -"Oh yes, he is short-sighted. With _pince-nez_." - -"Not very well lately?" - -"No--I think not. He takes medicine in the office. But you will be -careful, eh? He must not know." - -"Do you think so? Perhaps I may tell him, though." - -"Tell him? _Ciel_--no! You must not tell people! No!" - -"Shall I throw the whole case over, and keep your deposit fee?" - -"No--no, not that. But it is foolish to tell to people!" - -"I am to judge what is foolish and what wise, M. Bouvier. Good evening!" - -"Good evening, M. Dorrington; good evening." Bouvier followed him out -to the gate. "And will you tell me--do you think there is a way to get -the diamond? Have you any plan?" - -"Oh yes, M. Bouvier, I have a plan. But, as I have said, that is my -business. It may be a successful plan, or it may not; that we shall -see." - -"And--and the _dossier_. The notes that you so marvellously have, -written out in the book you read. When this business is over you will -destroy them, eh? You will not leave a clue?" - -"The notes that I have in my books," answered Dorrington, without -relaxing a muscle of his face, "are my property, for my own purposes, -and were mine before you came to me. Those relating to you are a mere -item in thousands. So long as you behave well, M. Bouvier, they will -not harm you, and, as I said, the confidences of a client are sacred -to Dorrington & Hicks. But as to keeping them--certainly I shall. Once -more--good evening!" - -Even the stony-faced Dorrington could not repress a smile and something -very like a chuckle as he turned the end of the street and struck out -across Golden Square towards his rooms in Conduit Street. The simple -Frenchman, only half a rogue--even less than half--was now bamboozled -and put aside as effectually as his cousin had been. Certainly there -was a diamond, and an immense one; if only the Bouvier tradition were -true, probably the famous "Mirror of Portugal"; and nothing stood -between Dorrington and absolute possession of that diamond but an -ordinary sort of case such as he dealt with every day. And he had made -Bouvier pay a fee for the privilege of putting him completely on the -track of it! Dorrington smiled again. - -His dinner was spoilt by waiting, but he troubled little of that. He -spread before him, and examined again, the pieces of glass and the -cork. The bottle had been a druggist's ordinary flat bottle, graduated -with dose-marks, and altogether seven inches high, or thereabout. It -had, without a doubt, contained the chloroform wherewith Léon Bouvier -had been assaulted, as Dorrington had judged from the smell of the -cork. The fact of the bottle being corked showed that the chloroform -had not been bought all at once--since in that case it would have been -put up in a stoppered bottle. More probably it had been procured in -very small quantities (ostensibly for toothache, or something of that -kind) at different druggists, and put together in this larger bottle, -which had originally been used for something else. The bottle had -been distinguished by a label--the usual white label affixed by the -druggist, with directions as to taking the medicine--and this label -had been scraped off; all except a small piece at the bottom edge by -the right hand side, whereon might be just distinguished the greater -part of the letters N, E. The piece of glass that had lain a little way -apart from the bottle was not a part of it, as a casual observer might -have supposed. It was a fragment of a concave lens, with a channel -ground in the edge. - - -III - -At ten precisely next morning, as usual, Mr. Ludwig Hamer mounted the -stairs of the house in Hatton Garden, wherein he rented half a room -as office. He was a tall, fair man, wearing thick convex _pince-nez_. -He spoke English like a native, and, indeed, he called himself an -Englishman, though there were those who doubted the Briticism of his -name. Scarce had he entered his office when Dorrington followed him. - -The room had never been a very large one, and now a partition divided -it in two, leaving a passage at one side only, by the window. On each -side of this partition stood a small pedestal table, a couple of -chairs, a copying-press, and the other articles usual in a meagrely -furnished office. Dorrington strode past Bouvier's half of the room -and came upon Hamer as he was hanging his coat on a peg. The letter -of introduction had been burnt, since Dorrington had only asked for -it in order to get Hamer's name and the Hatton Garden address without -betraying to Bouvier the fact that he did not already know all about it. - -"Good morning, Mr. Hamer," said Dorrington, loudly. "Sorry to see -you're not well"--he pointed familiarly with his stick at a range of -medicine bottles on the mantelpiece--"but it's very trying weather, of -course. You've been suffering from toothache, I believe?" - -Hamer seemed at first disposed to resent the loudness and familiarity -of this speech, but at the reference to toothache he started suddenly -and set his lips. - -"Chloroform's a capital thing for toothache, Mr. Hamer, and for--for -other things. I'm not in your line of business myself, but I believe -it has even been used in the diamond trade." - -"What do you mean?" asked Hamer, flushing angrily. - -"Mean? Why, bless me--nothing more than I said. By the way, I'm afraid -you dropped one of your medicine bottles last night. I've brought it -back, though I'm afraid it's past repair. It's a good job you didn't -quite clear the label off before you took it out with you, else I might -have had a difficulty." Dorrington placed the fragments on the table. -"You see you've just left the first letter of 'E.C.' in the druggist's -address, and the last 'N' of Hatton Garden, just before it. There -doesn't happen to be any other Garden in E.C. district that I know of, -nor does the name of any other thoroughfare end in N--they are mostly -streets, or lanes, or courts, you see. And there seems to be only one -druggist in Hatton Garden--capital fellow, no doubt--the one whose name -and address I observe on those bottles on the mantelpiece." - -Dorrington stood with his foot on a chair, and tapped his knee -carelessly with his stick. Hamer dropped into the other chair and -regarded him with a frown, though his face was pale. Presently he said, -in a strained voice, "Well?" - -"Yes; there _is_ something else, Mr. Hamer, as you appear to suggest. -I see you're wearing a new pair of glasses this morning; pity you -broke the others last night, but I've brought the piece you left -behind." He gathered up the broken bottle, and held up the piece of -concave lens. "I think, after all, it's really best to use a cord with -_pince-nez_. It's awkward, and it catches in things, I know, but it -saves a breakage, and you're liable to get the glasses knocked off, you -know--in certain circumstances." - -Hamer sprang to his feet with a snarl, slammed the door, locked it, and -turned on Dorrington. But now Dorrington had a revolver in his hand, -though his manner was as genial as ever. - -[Illustration: "DORRINGTON HAD A REVOLVER IN HIS HAND."] - -"Yes, yes," he said; "best to shut the door, of course. People listen, -don't they? But sit down again. I'm not anxious to hurt you, and, as -you will perceive, you're quite unable to hurt me. What I chiefly came -to say is this: last evening my client, M. Léon Bouvier, of this office -and the Café des Bons Camarades, was attacked in the passage adjoining -his house by a man who was waiting for him, with a woman--was it really -Mrs. Hamer? but there, I won't ask--keeping watch. He was robbed of -a small old wooden box, containing charcoal and--a diamond. My name is -Dorrington--firm of Dorrington & Hicks, which you may have heard of. -That's my card. I've come to take away that diamond." - -Hamer was pale and angry, but, in his way, was almost as calm as -Dorrington. He put down the card without looking at it. "I don't -understand you," he said. "How do you know I've got it?" - -"Come, come, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied, rubbing the barrel of his -revolver on his knee, "that's hardly worthy of you. You're a man of -business, with a head on your shoulders--the sort of man I like doing -business with, in fact. Men like ourselves needn't trifle. I've shown -you most of the cards I hold, though not all, I assure you. I'll tell -you, if you like, all about your little tour round among the druggists -with the convenient toothache, all about the evenings on which you -watched Bouvier home, and so on. But, really, need we, as men of the -world, descend to such peddling detail?" - -"Well, suppose I have got it, and suppose I refuse to give it you. What -then?" - -"What then? But why should we talk of unpleasant things? You won't -refuse, you know." - -"Do you mean you'd get it out of me by help of that pistol?" - -"Well," said Dorrington, deliberately, "the pistol is noisy, and it -makes a mess, and all that, but it's a useful thing, and I _might_ do -it with that, you know, in certain circumstances. But I wasn't thinking -of it--there's a much less troublesome way." - -"Which?" - -"You're a slower man than I took you for, Mr. Hamer--or perhaps you -haven't quite appreciated _me_ yet. If I were to go to that window and -call the police, what with the little bits of evidence in my pocket, -and the other little bits that the druggists who sold the chloroform -would give, and the other bits in reserve, that I prefer not to talk -about just now--there would be rather an awkwardly complete case of -robbery with violence, wouldn't there? And you'd have to lose the -diamond after all, to say nothing of a little rest in gaol and general -ruination." - -"That sounds very well, but what about your client? Come now, you call -me a man of the world, and I am one. How will your client account for -the possession of a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds or so? He -doesn't seem a millionaire. The police would want to know about him as -well as about me, if you were such a fool as to bring them in. Where -did _he_ steal it, eh?" - -Dorrington smiled and bowed at the question. "That's a very good -card to play, Mr. Hamer," he said, "a capital card, really. To a -superficial observer it might look like winning the trick. But I think -I can trump it." He bent farther forward and tapped the table with the -pistol-barrel. "Suppose I don't care one solitary dump what becomes of -my client? Suppose I don't care whether he goes to gaol or stays out of -it--in short, suppose I prefer my own interests to his?" - -"Ho! ho!" Hamer cried. "I begin to understand. You want to grab the -diamond for yourself then?" - -"I haven't said anything of the kind, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied, -suavely. "I have simply demanded the diamond which you stole last -night, and I have mentioned an alternative." - -"Oh, yes, yes, but we understand one another. Come, we'll arrange this. -How much do you want?" - -Dorrington stared at him stonily. "I--I beg your pardon," he said, "but -I don't understand. I want the diamond you stole." - -"But come now, we'll divide. Bouvier had no right to it, and he's out. -You and I, perhaps, haven't much right to it, legally, but it's between -us, and we're both in the same position." - -"Pardon me," Dorrington replied, silkily, "but there you mistake. We -are _not_ in the same position, by a long way. You are liable to an -instant criminal prosecution. I have simply come, authorised by my -client, who bears all the responsibility, to demand a piece of property -which you have stolen. That is the difference between our positions, -Mr. Hamer. Come now, a policeman is just standing opposite. Shall I -open the window and call him, or do you give in?" - -"Oh, I give in, I suppose," Hamer groaned. "But you're a deal too hard. -A man of your abilities shouldn't be so mean." - -"That's right and reasonable," Dorrington answered briskly. "The wise -man is the man who knows when he is beaten, and saves further trouble. -You may not find me so mean after all, but I must have the stone first. -I hold the trumps, and I'm not going to let the other player make -conditions. Where's the diamond?" - -"It isn't here--it's at home. You'll have to get it out of Mrs. Hamer. -Shall I go and wire to her?" - -"No, no," said Dorrington, "that's not the way. We'll just go together, -and take Mrs. Hamer by surprise, I think. I mustn't let you out of -sight, you know. Come, we'll get a hansom. Is it far?" - -"Bessborough Street, Pimlico. You'll find Mrs. Hamer has a temper of -her own." - -"Well, well, we all have our failings. But before we start, now, -observe." For a moment Dorrington was stern and menacing. "You wriggled -a little at first, but that was quite natural. Now you've given in; -and at the first sign of another wriggle I stop it once and for all. -Understand? No tricks, now." - -They entered a hansom at the door. Hamer was moody and silent at first, -but under the influence of Dorrington's gay talk he opened out after -a while. "Well," he said, "you're far the cleverest of the three, no -doubt, and perhaps in that way you deserve to win. It's mighty smart -for you to come in like this, and push Bouvier on one side and me on -the other, and both of us helpless. But it's rough on me after having -all the trouble." - -"Don't be a bad loser, man!" Dorrington answered. "You might have had a -deal more trouble and a deal more roughness too, I assure you." - -"Oh yes, so I might. I'm not grumbling. But there's one thing has -puzzled me all along. Where did Bouvier get that stone from?" - -"He inherited it. It's the most important of the family jewels, I -assure you." - -"Oh, skittles! I might have known you wouldn't tell me, even if you -knew yourself. But I should like to know. What sort of a duffer must -it have been that let Bouvier do him for that big stone--Bouvier of -all men in the world? Why, he was a record flat himself--couldn't tell -a diamond from a glass marble, I should think. Why, he used to buy -peddling little trays of rotters in the Garden at twice their value! -And then he'd sell them for what he could get. I knew very well he -wasn't going on systematically dropping money like that for no reason -at all. He had some axe to grind, that was plain. And after a while he -got asking timid questions as to the sale of big diamonds, and how it -was done, and who bought them, and all that. That put me on it at once. -All this buying and selling at a loss was a blind. He wanted to get -into the trade to sell stolen diamonds, that was clear; and there was -some value in them too, else he couldn't afford to waste months of time -and lose money every day over it. So I kept my eye on him. I noticed, -when he put his overcoat on, and thought I wasn't looking, he would -settle a string of some sort round his neck, under his shirt-collar, -and feel to pack up something close under his armpit. Then I just -watched him home, and saw the sort of shanty he lived in. I mentioned -these things to Mrs. H., and she was naturally indignant at the idea of -a chap like Bouvier having something valuable in a dishonest way, and -agreed with me that if possible it ought to be got from him, if only -in the interests of virtue." Hamer laughed jerkily. "So at any rate we -determined to get a look at whatever it was hanging round his neck, and -we made the arrangements you know about. It seemed to me that Bouvier -was pretty sure to lose it before long, one way or another, if it had -any value at all, to judge by the way he was done in other matters. -But I assure you I nearly fell down like Bouvier himself when I saw -what it was. No wonder we left the bottle behind where I'd dropped it, -after soaking the shawl--I wonder I didn't leave the shawl itself, and -my hat, and everything. I assure you we sat up half last night looking -at that wonderful stone!" - -"No doubt. I shall have a good look at it myself, I assure you. Here is -Bessborough Street. Which is the number?" - -They alighted, and entered a house rather smaller than those about it. -"Ask Mrs. Hamer to come here," said Hamer, gloomily, to the servant. - -The men sat in the drawing-room. Presently Mrs. Hamer entered--a -shortish, sharp, keen-eyed woman of forty-five. "This is Mr. -Dorrington," said Hamer, "of Dorrington & Hicks, private detectives. He -wants us to give him that diamond." - -The little woman gave a sort of involuntary bounce, and exclaimed. -"What? Diamond? What d'ye mean?" - -"Oh, it's no good, Maria," Hamer answered dolefully. "I've tried it -every way myself. One comfort is we're safe, as long as we give it -up. Here," he added, turning to Dorrington, "show her some of your -evidence--that'll convince her." - -Very politely Dorrington brought forth, with full explanations, the -cork and the broken glass; while Mrs. Hamer, biting hard at her thin -lips, grew shinier and redder in the face every moment, and her hard -gray eyes flashed fury. - -"And you let this man," she burst out to her husband, when Dorrington -had finished, "you let this man leave your office with these things in -his possession after he had shown them to you, and you as big as he is, -and bigger! Coward!" - -"My dear, you don't appreciate Mr. Dorrington's forethought, hang it! I -made preparations for the very line of action you recommend, but he was -ready. He brought out a very well kept revolver, and he has it in his -pocket now!" - -Mrs. Hamer only glared, speechless with anger. - -"You might just get Mr. Dorrington a whisky and soda, Maria," Hamer -pursued, with a slight lift of the eyebrows which he did not intend -Dorrington to see. The woman was on her feet in a moment. - -"Thank you, no," interposed Dorrington, rising also, "I won't trouble -you. I'd rather not drink anything just now, and, although I fear I -may appear rude, I can't allow either of you to leave the room. In -short," he added, "I must stay with you both till I get the diamond." - -"And this man Bouvier," asked Mrs. Hamer, "what is his right to the -stone?" - -"Really, I don't feel competent to offer an opinion, do you know," -Dorrington answered sweetly. "To tell the truth, M. Bouvier doesn't -interest me very much." - -"No go, Maria!" growled Hamer. "I've tried it all. The fact is we've -got to give Dorrington the diamond. If we don't he'll just call in the -police--then we shall lose diamond and everything else too. He doesn't -care what becomes of Bouvier. He's got us, that's what it is. He won't -even bargain to give us a share." - -Mrs. Hamer looked quickly up. "Oh, but that's nonsense!" she said. -"We've got the thing. We ought at least to say halves." - -Her sharp eyes searched Dorrington's face, but there was no -encouragement in it. "I am sorry to disappoint a lady," he said, "but -this time it is my business to impose terms, not to submit to them. -Come, the diamond!" - -"Well, you'll give us something, surely?" the woman cried. - -"Nothing is sure, madam, except that you will give me that diamond, or -face a policeman in five minutes!" - -The woman realised her helplessness. "Well," she said, "much good may -it do you. You'll have to come and get it--I'm keeping it somewhere -else. I'll go and get my hat." - -Again Dorrington interposed. "I think we'll send your servant for the -hat," he said, reaching for the bell-rope. "I'll come wherever you -like, but I shall not leave you till this affair is settled, I promise -you. And, as I reminded your husband a little time ago, you'll find -tricks come expensive." - -The servant brought Mrs. Hamer's hat and cloak, and that lady put them -on, her eyes ablaze with anger. Dorrington made the pair walk before -him to the front door, and followed them into the street. "Now," he -said, "where is this place? Remember, no tricks!" - -Mrs. Hamer turned towards Vauxhall Bridge. "It's just over by Upper -Kennington Lane," she said. "Not far." - -She paced out before them, Dorrington and Hamer following, the former -affable and business-like, the latter apparently a little puzzled. -When they came about the middle of the bridge, the woman turned -suddenly. "Come, Mr. Dorrington," she said, in a more subdued voice -than she had yet used, "I give in. It's no use trying to shake you off, -I can see. I have the diamond with me. Here." - -She put a little old black wooden box in his hand. He made to open -the lid, which fitted tightly, and at that moment the woman, pulling -her other hand free from under her cloak, flung away over the parapet -something that shone like fifty points of electric light. - -[Illustration: "THERE'S YOUR DIAMOND, YOU DIRTY THIEF!"] - -"There it goes!" she screamed aloud, pointing with her finger. "There's -your diamond, you dirty thief! You bully! Go after it now, you spy!" - -The great diamond made a curve of glitter and disappeared into the -river. - -For the moment Dorrington lost his cool temper. He seized the woman by -the arm. "Do you know what you've done, you wild cat?" he exclaimed. - -"Yes, I do!" the woman screamed, almost foaming with passion, while -boys began to collect, though there had been but few people on the -bridge. "Yes, I do! And now you can do what you please, you thief! you -bully!" - -Dorrington was calm again in a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and -turned away. Hamer was frightened. He came at Dorrington's side and -faltered, "I--I told you she had a temper. What will you do?" - -Dorrington forced a laugh. "Oh, nothing," he said. "What can I do? -Locking you up now wouldn't fetch the diamond back. And besides I'm -not sure that Mrs. Hamer won't attend to your punishment faithfully -enough." And he walked briskly away. - -"What did she do, Bill?" asked one boy of another. - -"Why, didn't ye see? She chucked that man's watch in the river." - -"Garn! that wasn't his watch!" interrupted a third, "it was a little -glass tumbler. I see it!" - - * * * * * - -"Have you got my diamond?" asked the agonised Léon Bouvier of -Dorrington a day later. - -"No, I have not," Dorrington replied drily. "Nor has your cousin -Jacques. But I know where it is, and you can get it as easily as I." - -"_Mon Dieu!_ Where?" - -"At the bottom of the river Thames, exactly in the centre, rather to -the right of Vauxhall Bridge, looking from this side. I expect it will -be rediscovered in some future age, when the bed of the Thames is a -diamond field." - -The rest of Bouvier's savings went in the purchase of a boat, and -in this, with a pail on a long rope, he was very busy for some time -afterward. But he only got a great deal of mud into his boat. - - - - - _THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE - BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED"_ - - - - -IV - -The Affair of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Co., Limited" - - -I - -Cycle companies were in the market everywhere. Immense fortunes were -being made in a few days and sometimes little fortunes were being -lost to build them up. Mining shares were dull for a season, and any -company with the word "cycle" or "tyre" in its title was certain to -attract capital, no matter what its prospects were like in the eyes -of the expert. All the old private cycle companies suddenly were -offered to the public, and their proprietors, already rich men, built -themselves houses on the Riviera, bought yachts, ran racehorses, and -left business for ever. Sometimes the shareholders got their money's -worth, sometimes more, sometimes less--sometimes they got nothing -but total loss; but still the game went on. One could never open a -newspaper without finding, displayed at large, the prospectus of yet -another cycle company with capital expressed in six figures at least, -often in seven. Solemn old dailies, into whose editorial heads no -new thing ever found its way till years after it had been forgotten -elsewhere, suddenly exhibited the scandalous phenomenon of "broken -columns" in their advertising sections, and the universal prospectuses -stretched outrageously across half or even all the page--a thing to -cause apoplexy in the bodily system of any self-respecting manager of -the old school. - -In the midst of this excitement it chanced that the firm of Dorrington -& Hicks were engaged upon an investigation for the famous and -long-established "Indestructible Bicycle and Tricycle Manufacturing -Company," of London and Coventry. The matter was not one of sufficient -intricacy or difficulty to engage Dorrington's personal attention, -and it was given to an assistant. There was some doubt as to the -validity of a certain patent having reference to a particular method -of tightening the spokes and truing the wheels of a bicycle, and -Dorrington's assistant had to make inquiries (without attracting -attention to the matter) as to whether or not there existed any -evidence, either documentary or in the memory of veterans, of the -use of this method, or anything like it, before the year 1885. The -assistant completed his inquiries and made his report to Dorrington. -Now I think I have said that, from every evidence I have seen, the -chief matter of Dorrington's solicitude was his own interest, and just -at this time he had heard, as had others, much of the money being made -in cycle companies. Also, like others, he had conceived a great desire -to get the confidential advice of somebody "in the know"--advice which -might lead him into the "good thing" desired by all the greedy who -flutter about at the outside edge of the stock and share market. For -this reason Dorrington determined to make this small matter of the -wheel patent an affair of personal report. He was a man of infinite -resource, plausibility and good-companionship, and there was money -going in the cycle trade. Why then should he lose an opportunity -of making himself pleasant in the inner groves of that trade, and -catch whatever might come his way--information, syndicate shares, -directorships, anything? So that Dorrington made himself master of -his assistant's information, and proceeded to the head office of the -"Indestructible" company on Holborn Viaduct, resolved to become the -entertaining acquaintance of the managing director. - -On his way his attention was attracted by a very elaborately fitted -cycle shop, which his recollection told him was new. "The Avalanche -Bicycle and Tyre Company" was the legend gilt above the great -plate-glass window, and in the window itself stood many brilliantly -enamelled and plated bicycles, each labelled on the frame with the -flaming red and gold transfer of the firm; and in the midst of all was -another bicycle covered with dried mud, of which, however, sufficient -had been carefully cleared away to expose a similar glaring transfer -to those that decorated the rest--with a placard announcing that on -this particular machine somebody had ridden some incredible distance on -bad roads in very little more than no time at all. A crowd stood about -the window and gaped respectfully at the placard, the bicycles, the -transfers, and the mud, though they paid little attention to certain -piles of folded white papers, endorsed in bold letters with the name -of the company, with the suffix "limited" and the word "prospectus" -in bloated black letter below. These, however, Dorrington observed at -once, for he had himself that morning, in common with several thousand -other people, received one by post. Also half a page of his morning -paper had been filled with a copy of that same prospectus, and the -afternoon had brought another copy in the evening paper. In the list of -directors there was a titled name or two, together with a few unknown -names--doubtless the "practical men." And below this list there were -such positive promises of tremendous dividends, backed up and proved -beyond dispute by such ingenious piles of business-like figures, every -line of figures referring to some other line for testimonials to its -perfect genuineness and accuracy, that any reasonable man, it would -seem, must instantly sell the hat off his head and the boots off his -feet to buy one share at least, and so make his fortune for ever. -True, the business was but lately established, but that was just it. -It had rushed ahead with such amazing rapidity (as was natural with an -avalanche) that it had got altogether out of hand, and orders couldn't -be executed at all; wherefore the proprietors were reluctantly -compelled to let the public have some of the luck. This was Thursday. -The share list was to be opened on Monday morning and closed inexorably -at four o'clock on Tuesday afternoon, with a merciful extension to -Wednesday morning for the candidates for wealth who were so unfortunate -as to live in the country. So that it behoved everybody to waste no -time lest he be numbered among the unlucky whose subscription-money -should be returned in full, failing allotment. The prospectus did not -absolutely say it in so many words, but no rational person could fail -to feel that the directors were fervently hoping that nobody would get -injured in the rush. - -Dorrington passed on and reached the well-known establishment of the -"Indestructible Bicycle Company." This was already a limited company of -a private sort, and had been so for ten years or more. And before that -the concern had had eight or nine years of prosperous experience. The -founder of the firm, Mr. Paul Mallows, was now the managing director, -and a great pillar of the cycling industry. Dorrington gave a clerk his -card, and asked to see Mr. Mallows. - -Mr. Mallows was out, it seemed, but Mr. Stedman, the secretary, was -in, and him Dorrington saw. Mr. Stedman was a pleasant, youngish man, -who had been a famous amateur bicyclist in his time, and was still an -enthusiast. In ten minutes business was settled and dismissed, and -Dorrington's tact had brought the secretary into a pleasant discursive -chat, with much exchange of anecdote. Dorrington expressed much -interest in the subject of bicycling, and, seeing that Stedman had been -a racing man, particularly as to bicycling races. - -"There'll be a rare good race on Saturday, I expect," Stedman said. "Or -rather," he went on, "I expect the fifty miles record will go. I fancy -our man Gillett is pretty safe to win, but he'll have to move, and I -quite expect to see a good set of new records on our advertisements -next week. The next best man is Lant--the new fellow, you know--who -rides for the 'Avalanche' people." - -"Let's see, they're going to the public as a limited company, aren't -they?" Dorrington asked casually. - -Stedman nodded, with a little grimace. - -"You don't think it's a good thing, perhaps," Dorrington said, -noticing the grimace. "Is that so?" - -"Well," Stedman answered, "of course I can't say. I don't know much -about the firm--nobody does, as far as I can tell--but they seem -to have got a business together in almost no time; that is, if the -business is as genuine as it looks at first sight. But they want a -rare lot of capital, and then the prospectus--well, I've seen more -satisfactory ones, you know. I don't say it isn't all right, of course, -but still I shan't go out of my way to recommend any friends of mine to -plunge on it." - -"You won't?" - -"No, I won't. Though no doubt they'll get their capital, or most of it. -Almost any cycle or tyre company can get subscribed just now. And this -'Avalanche' affair is both, and it is so well advertised, you know. -Lant has been winning on their mounts just lately, and they've been -booming it for all they're worth. By Jove, if they could only screw him -up to win the fifty miles on Saturday, and beat our man Gillett, that -_would_ give them a push! Just at the correct moment too. Gillett's -never been beaten yet at the distance, you know. But Lant can't do -it--though, as I have said, he'll make some fast riding--it'll be a -race, I tell you!" - -"I should like to see it." - -"Why not come? See about it, will you? And perhaps you'd like to -run down to the track after dinner this evening and see our man -training--awfully interesting, I can tell you, with all the pacing -machinery and that. Will you come?" - -Dorrington expressed himself delighted, and suggested that Stedman -should dine with him before going to the track. Stedman, for his part, -charmed with his new acquaintance--as everybody was at a first meeting -with Dorrington--assented gladly. - -At that moment the door of Stedman's room was pushed open and a -well-dressed, middle-aged man, with a shaven, flabby face, appeared. -"I beg pardon," he said, "I thought you were alone. I've just ripped -my finger against the handle of my brougham door as I came in--the -screw sticks out. Have you a piece of sticking plaster?" He extended a -bleeding finger as he spoke. Stedman looked doubtfully at his desk. - -"Here is some court plaster," Dorrington exclaimed, producing his -pocket-book. "I always carry it--it's handier than ordinary sticking -plaster. How much do you want?" - -"Thanks--an inch or so." - -"This is Mr. Dorrington, of Messrs. Dorrington & Hicks, Mr. Mallows," -Stedman said. "Our managing director, Mr. Paul Mallows, Mr. Dorrington." - -Dorrington was delighted to make Mr. Mallows's acquaintance, and he -busied himself with a careful strapping of the damaged finger. Mr. -Mallows had the large frame of a man of strong build who has had much -hard bodily work, but there hung about it the heavier, softer flesh -that told of a later period of ease and sloth. "Ah, Mr. Mallows," -Stedman said, "the bicycle's the safest thing, after all! Dangerous -things these broughams!" - -"Ah, you younger men," Mr. Mallows replied, with a slow and rounded -enunciation, "you younger men can afford to be active. We elders----" - -"Can afford a brougham," Dorrington added, before the managing director -began the next word. "Just so--and the bicycle does it all; wonderful -thing the bicycle!" - -Dorrington had not misjudged his man, and the oblique reference to his -wealth flattered Mr. Mallows. Dorrington went once more through his -report as to the spoke patent, and then Mr. Mallows bade him good-bye. - -"Good-day, Mr. Dorrington, good-day," he said. "I am extremely obliged -by your careful personal attention to this matter of the patent. We may -leave it with Mr. Stedman now, I think. Good-day. I hope soon to have -the pleasure of meeting you again." And with clumsy stateliness Mr. -Mallows vanished. - - -II - -"So you don't think the 'Avalanche' good business as an investment?" -Dorrington said once more as he and Stedman, after an excellent dinner, -were cabbing it to the track. - -"No, no," Stedman answered, "don't touch it! There's better things -than that coming along presently. Perhaps I shall be able to put you -in for something, you know, a bit later; but don't be in a hurry. As -to the 'Avalanche,' even if everything else were satisfactory, there's -too much 'booming' being done just now to please me. All sorts of -rumours, you know, of their having something 'up their sleeve,' and -so on; mysterious hints in the papers, and all that, as to something -revolutionary being in hand with the 'Avalanche' people. Perhaps there -is. But why they don't fetch it out in view of the public subscription -for shares is more than I can understand, unless they don't want too -much of a rush. And as to that, well they don't look like modestly -shrinking from anything of that sort up to the present." - -They were at the track soon after seven o'clock, but Gillett was not -yet riding. Dorrington remarked that Gillett appeared to begin late. - -"Well," Stedman explained, "he's one of those fellows that afternoon -training doesn't seem to suit, unless it is a bit of walking exercise. -He just does a few miles in the morning and a spurt or two, and then he -comes on just before sunset for a fast ten or fifteen miles--that is, -when he is getting fit for such a race as Saturday's. To-night will be -his last spin of that length before Saturday, because to-morrow will be -the day before the race. To-morrow he'll only go a spurt or two, and -rest most of the day." - -They strolled about inside the track, the two highly "banked" ends -whereof seemed to a nearsighted person in the centre to be solid -erect walls, along the face of which the training riders skimmed, -fly-fashion. Only three or four persons beside themselves were in the -enclosure when they first came, but in ten minutes' time Mr. Paul -Mallows came across the track. - -"Why," said Stedman to Dorrington, "here's the Governor! It isn't often -he comes down here. But I expect he's anxious to see how Gillett's -going, in view of Saturday." - -"Good evening, Mr. Mallows," said Dorrington. "I hope the finger's all -right? Want any more plaster?" - -"Good evening, good evening," responded Mr. Mallows heavily. "Thank -you, the finger's not troubling me a bit." He held it up, still -decorated by the black plaster. "Your plaster remains, you see--I was a -little careful not to fray it too much in washing, that was all." And -Mr. Mallows sat down on a light iron garden-chair (of which several -stood here and there in the enclosure) and began to watch the riding. - -The track was clear, and dusk was approaching when at last the great -Gillett made his appearance on the track. He answered a friendly -question or two put to him by Mallows and Stedman, and then, giving -his coat to his trainer, swung off along the track on his bicycle, -led in front by a tandem and closely attended by a triplet. In fifty -yards his pace quickened, and he settled down into a swift even pace, -regular as clockwork. Sometimes the tandem and sometimes the triplet -went to the front, but Gillett neither checked nor heeded as, nursed by -his pacers, who were directed by the trainer from the centre, he swept -along mile after mile, each mile in but a few seconds over the two -minutes. - -"Look at the action!" exclaimed Stedman with enthusiasm. "Just watch -him. Not an ounce of power wasted there! Did you ever see more regular -ankle work? And did anybody ever sit a machine quite so well as that? -Show me a movement anywhere above the hips!" - -"Ah," said Mr. Mallows, "Gillett has a wonderful style--a wonderful -style, really!" - -The men in the enclosure wandered about here and there on the grass, -watching Gillett's riding as one watches the performance of a great -piece of art--which, indeed, was what Gillett's riding was. There were, -besides Mallows, Stedman, Dorrington and the trainer, two officials -of the Cyclists' Union, an amateur racing man named Sparks, the -track superintendent and another man. The sky grew darker, and gloom -fell about the track. The machines became invisible, and little could -be seen of the riders across the ground but the row of rhythmically -working legs and the white cap that Gillett wore. The trainer had just -told Stedman that there would be three fast laps and then his man would -come off the track. - -"Well, Mr. Stedman," said Mr. Mallows, "I think we shall be all right -for Saturday." - -"Rather!" answered Stedman confidently. "Gillett's going great guns, -and steady as a watch!" - -The pace now suddenly increased. The tandem shot once more to the -front, the triplet hung on the rider's flank, and the group of swishing -wheels flew round the track at a "one-fifty" gait. The spectators -turned about, following the riders round the track with their eyes. And -then, swinging into the straight from the top bend, the tandem checked -suddenly and gave a little jump. Gillett crashed into it from behind, -and the triplet, failing to clear, wavered and swung, and crashed over -and along the track too. All three machines and six men were involved -in one complicated smash. - -Everybody rushed across the grass, the trainer first. Then the cause -of the disaster was seen. Lying on its side on the track, with men and -bicycles piled over and against it, was one of the green painted light -iron garden-chairs that had been standing in the enclosure. The triplet -men were struggling to their feet, and though much cut and shaken, -seemed the least hurt of the lot. One of the men of the tandem was -insensible, and Gillett, who from his position had got all the worst -of it, lay senseless too, badly cut and bruised, and his left arm was -broken. - -The trainer was cursing and tearing his hair. "If I knew who'd done -this," Stedman cried, "I'd _pulp_ him with that chair!" - -"Oh, that betting, that betting!" wailed Mr. Mallows, hopping about -distractedly; "see what it leads people into doing! It can't have been -an accident, can it?" - -"Accident? Skittles! A man doesn't put a chair on a track in the dark -and leave it there by accident. Is anybody getting away there from the -outside of the track?" - -"No, there's nobody. He wouldn't wait till this; he's clear off a -minute ago and more. Here, Fielders! Shut the outer gate, and we'll see -who's about." - -But there seemed to be no suspicious character. Indeed, except for the -ground-man, his boy, Gillett's trainer, and a racing man, who had just -finished dressing in the pavilion, there seemed to be nobody about -beyond those whom everybody had seen standing in the enclosure. But -there had been ample time for anybody, standing unnoticed at the outer -rails, to get across the track in the dark, just after the riders had -passed, place the obstruction, and escape before the completion of the -lap. - -The damaged men were helped or carried into the pavilion, and the -damaged machines were dragged after them. "I will give fifty pounds -gladly--more, a hundred," said Mr. Mallows, excitedly, "to anybody who -will find out who put that chair on the track. It might have ended in -murder. Some wretched bookmaker, I suppose, who has taken too many bets -on Gillett. As I've said a thousand times, betting is the curse of all -sport nowadays." - -"The governor excites himself a great deal about betting and -bookmakers," Stedman said to Dorrington, as they walked toward the -pavilion, "but, between you and me, I believe some of the 'Avalanche' -people are in this. The betting bee is always in Mallows's bonnet, but -as a matter of fact there's very little betting at all on cycle races, -and what there is is little more than a matter of half-crowns or at -most half-sovereigns on the day of the race. No bookmaker ever makes a -heavy book first. Still there _may_ be something in it this time, of -course. But look at the 'Avalanche' people. With Gillett away their -man can certainly win on Saturday, and if only the weather keeps fair -he can almost as certainly beat the record; just at present the fifty -miles is fairly easy, and it's bound to go soon. Indeed, our intention -was that Gillett should pull it down on Saturday. He was a safe winner, -bar accidents, and it was good odds on his altering the record, if -the weather were any good at all. With Gillett out of it Lant is just -about as certain a winner as our man would be if all were well. And -there would be a boom for the 'Avalanche' company, on the very eve -of the share subscription! Lant, you must know, was very second-rate -till this season, but he has improved wonderfully in the last month or -two, since he has been with the 'Avalanche' people. Let him win, and -they can point to the machine as responsible for it all. 'Here,' they -will say in effect, 'is a man who could rarely get in front, even in -second-class company, till he rode an 'Avalanche.' Now he beats the -world's record for fifty miles on it, and makes rings round the topmost -professionals!' Why, it will be worth thousands of capital to them. Of -course the subscription of capital won't hurt us, but the loss of the -record may, and to have Gillett knocked out like this in the middle of -the season is serious." - -"Yes, I suppose with you it is more than a matter of this one race." - -"Of course. And so it will be with the 'Avalanche' company. Don't you -see, with Gillett probably useless for the rest of the season, Lant -will have it all his own way at anything over ten miles. That'll help -to boom up the shares and there'll be big profit made on trading in -them. Oh, I tell you this thing seems pretty suspicious to me." - -"Look here," said Dorrington, "can you borrow a light for me, and let -me run over with it to the spot where the smash took place? The people -have cleared into the pavilion, and I could go alone." - -"Certainly. Will you have a try for the governor's hundred?" - -"Well, perhaps. But anyway there's no harm in doing you a good turn if -I can, while I'm here. Some day perhaps you'll do me one." - -"Right you are--I'll ask Fielders, the ground-man." - -A lantern was brought, and Dorrington betook himself to the spot where -the iron chair still lay, while Stedman joined the rest of the crowd in -the pavilion. - -Dorrington minutely examined the grass within two yards of the place -where the chair lay, and then, crossing the track and getting over the -rails, did the same with the damp gravel that paved the outer ring. -The track itself was of cement, and unimpressionable by footmarks, but -nevertheless he scrutinised that with equal care, as well as the rails. -Then he turned his attention to the chair. It was, as I have said, a -light chair made of flat iron strip, bent to shape and riveted. It had -seen good service, and its present coat of green paint was evidently -far from being its original one. Also it was rusty in places, and -parts had been repaired and strengthened with cross-pieces secured by -bolts and square nuts, some rusty and loose. It was from one of these -square nuts, holding a cross-piece that stayed the back at the top, -that Dorrington secured some object--it might have been a hair--which -he carefully transferred to his pocket-book. This done, with one more -glance round, he betook himself to the pavilion. - -A surgeon had arrived, and he reported well of the chief patient. It -was a simple fracture, and a healthy subject. When Dorrington entered, -preparations were beginning for setting the limb. There was a sofa in -the pavilion, and the surgeon saw no reason for removing the patient -till all was made secure. - -"Found anything?" asked Stedman in a low tone of Dorrington. - -Dorrington shook his head. "Not much," he answered at a whisper. "I'll -think over it later." - -Dorrington asked one of the Cyclists' Union officials for the loan of a -pencil, and, having made a note with it, immediately, in another part -of the room, asked Sparks, the amateur, to lend him another. - -Stedman had told Mr. Mallows of Dorrington's late employment with the -lantern, and the managing director now said quietly, "You remember what -I said about rewarding anybody who discovered the perpetrator of this -outrage, Mr. Dorrington? Well, I was excited at the time, but I quite -hold to it. It is a shameful thing. You have been looking about the -grounds, I hear. I hope you have come across something that will enable -you to find something out. Nothing will please me more than to have to -pay you, I'm sure." - -"Well," Dorrington confessed, "I'm afraid I haven't seen anything very -big in the way of a clue, Mr. Mallows; but I'll think a bit. The worst -of it is, you never know who these betting men are, do you, once they -get away? There are so many, and it may be anybody. Not only that, but -they may bribe anybody." - -"Yes, of course--there's no end to their wickedness, I'm afraid. -Stedman suggests that trade rivalry may have had something to do with -it. But that seems an uncharitable view, don't you think? Of course -we stand very high, and there are jealousies and all that, but this -is a thing I'm sure no firm would think of stooping to, for a moment. -No, it's betting that is at the bottom of this, I fear. And I hope, -Mr. Dorrington, that you will make some attempt to find the guilty -parties." - -Presently Stedman spoke to Dorrington again. "Here's something that may -help you," he said. "To begin with, it must have been done by some one -from the outside of the track." - -"Why?" - -"Well, at least every probability's that way. Everybody inside was -directly interested in Gillett's success, excepting the Union officials -and Sparks, who's a gentleman and quite above suspicion, as much so, -indeed, as the Union officials. Of course there was the ground-man, but -he's all right, I'm sure." - -"And the trainer?" - -"Oh, that's altogether improbable--altogether. I was going to say----" - -"And there's that other man who was standing about; I haven't heard who -he was." - -"Right you are. I don't know him either. Where is he now?" - -But the man had gone. - -"Look here, I'll make some quiet inquiries about that man," Stedman -pursued. "I forgot all about him in the excitement of the moment. I was -going to say that although whoever did it could easily have got away by -the gate before the smash came, he might not have liked to go that way -in case of observation in passing the pavilion. In that case he could -have got away (and indeed he could have got into the grounds to begin -with) by way of one of those garden walls that bound the ground just by -where the smash occurred. If that were so he must either live in one of -the houses, or he must know somebody that does. Perhaps you might put -a man to smell about along that road--it's only a short one; Chisnall -Road's the name." - -"Yes, yes," Dorrington responded patiently. "There might be something -in that." - -By this time Gillett's arm was in a starched bandage and secured by -splints, and a cab was ready to take him home. Mr. Mallows took Stedman -away with him, expressing a desire to talk business, and Dorrington -went home by himself. He did not turn down Chisnall Road. But he -walked jauntily along toward the nearest cab-stand, and once or twice -he chuckled, for he saw his way to a delightfully lucrative financial -operation in cycle companies, without risk of capital. - -The cab gained, he called at the lodgings of two of his men assistants -and gave them instant instructions. Then he packed a small bag at his -rooms in Conduit Street, and at midnight was in the late fast train for -Birmingham. - - -III - -The prospectus of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company" stated -that the works were at Exeter and Birmingham. Exeter is a delightful -old town, but it can scarcely be regarded as the centre of the cycle -trade; neither is it in especially easy and short communication with -Birmingham. It was the sort of thing that any critic anxious to pick -holes in the prospectus might wonder at, and so one of Dorrington's -assistants had gone by the night mail to inspect the works. It was from -this man that Dorrington, in Birmingham, about noon on the day after -Gillett's disaster, received this telegram-- - - _Works here old disused cloth-mills just out of town. Closed and - empty but with big new signboard and notice that works now running - are at Birmingham. Agent says only deposit paid--tenancy agreement - not signed.--Farrish._ - -The telegram increased Dorrington's satisfaction, for he had just -taken a look at the Birmingham works. They were not empty, though -nearly so, nor were they large; and a man there had told him that the -chief premises, where most of the work was done, were at Exeter. And -the hollower the business the better prize he saw in store for himself. -He had already, early in the morning, indulged in a telegram on his own -account, though he had not signed it. This was how it ran-- - - _Mallows, 58, Upper Sandown Place, - London, W._ - - _Fear all not safe here. Run down by 10.10 train without fail._ - -Thus it happened that at a little later than half-past eight -Dorrington's other assistant, watching the door of No. 58, Upper -Sandown Place, saw a telegram delivered, and immediately afterward -Mr. Paul Mallows in much haste dashed away in a cab which was called -from the end of the street. The assistant followed in another. Mr. -Mallows dismissed his cab at a theatrical wig-maker's in Bow Street -and entered. When he emerged in little more than forty minutes' time, -none but a practised watcher, who had guessed the reason of the visit, -would have recognised him. He had not assumed the clumsy disguise of a -false beard. He was "made up" deftly. His colour was heightened, and -his face seemed thinner. There was no heavy accession of false hair, -but a slight crêpe-hair whisker at each side made a better and less -pronounced disguise. He seemed a younger, healthier man. The watcher -saw him safely off to Birmingham by the ten minutes past ten train, -and then gave Dorrington note by telegraph of the guise in which Mr. -Mallows was travelling. - -Now this train was timed to arrive at Birmingham at one, which was -the reason that Dorrington had named it in the anonymous telegram. -The entrance to the "Avalanche" works was by a large gate, which was -closed, but which was provided with a small door to pass a man. Within -was a yard, and at a little before one o'clock Dorrington pushed open -the small door, peeped, and entered. Nobody was about in the yard, and -what little noise could be heard came from a particular part of the -building on the right. A pile of solid "export" crates stood to the -left, and these Dorrington had noted at his previous call that morning -as making a suitable hiding-place for temporary use. Now he slipped -behind them and awaited the stroke of one. Prompt at the hour a door on -the opposite side of the yard swung open, and two men and a boy emerged -and climbed one after another through the little door in the big gate. -Then presently another man, not a workman, but apparently a sort of -overseer, came from the opposite door, which he carelessly let fall-to -behind him, and he also disappeared through the little door, which he -then locked. Dorrington was now alone in the sole active works of the -"Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited." - -He tried the door opposite and found it was free to open. Within he saw -in a dark corner a candle which had been left burning, and opposite him -a large iron enamelling oven, like an immense safe, and round about, on -benches, were strewn heaps of the glaring red and gold transfer which -Dorrington had observed the day before on the machines exhibited in the -Holborn Viaduct window. Some of the frames had the label newly applied, -and others were still plain. It would seem that the chief business of -the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited," was the attaching -of labels to previously nondescript machines. But there was little time -to examine further, and indeed Dorrington presently heard the noise of -a key in the outer gate. So he stood and waited by the enamelling oven -to welcome Mr. Mallows. - -As the door was pushed open Dorrington advanced and bowed politely. -Mallows started guiltily, but, remembering his disguise, steadied -himself, and asked gruffly, "Well, sir, and who are you?" - -"I," answered Dorrington with perfect composure, "I am Mr. -Paul Mallows--you may have heard of me in connection with the -'Indestructible Bicycle Company.'" - -Mallows was altogether taken aback. But then it struck him that perhaps -the detective, anxious to win the reward he had offered in the matter -of the Gillett outrage, was here making inquiries in the assumed -character of the man who stood, impenetrably disguised, before him. So -after a pause he asked again, a little less gruffly, "And what may be -your business?" - -"Well," said Dorrington, "I did think of taking shares in this company. -I suppose there would be no objection to the managing director of -another company taking shares in this?" - -"No," answered Mallows, wondering what all this was to lead to. - -"Of course not; I'm sure _you_ don't think so, eh?" Dorrington, as -he spoke, looked in the other's face with a sly leer, and Mallows -began to feel altogether uncomfortable. "But there's one other -thing," Dorrington pursued, taking out his pocket-book, though still -maintaining his leer in Mallows's face--"one other thing. And by the -way, _will_ you have another piece of court plaster now I've got -it out? Don't say no. It's a pleasure to oblige you, really." And -Dorrington, his leer growing positively fiendish, tapped the side of -his nose with the case of court plaster. - -[Illustration: "TAPPED THE SIDE OF HIS NOSE WITH THE CASE."] - -Mallows paled under the paint, gasped, and felt for support. Dorrington -laughed pleasantly. "Come, come," he said, "don't be frightened. I -admire your cleverness, Mr. Mallows, and I shall arrange everything -pleasantly, as you will see. And as to the court plaster, if you'd -rather not have it you needn't. You have another piece on now, I see. -Why didn't you get them to paint it over at Clarkson's? They really did -the face very well, though! And there again you were quite right. -Such a man as yourself was likely to be recognised in such a place as -Birmingham, and that would have been unfortunate for both of us--_both_ -of us, I assure you.... Man alive, don't look as though I was going to -cut your throat! I'm not, I assure you. You're a smart man of business, -and I happen to have spotted a little operation of yours, that's all. -I shall arrange easy terms for you.... Pull yourself together and talk -business before the men come back. Here, sit on this bench." - -Mallows, staring amazedly in Dorrington's face, suffered himself to be -led to a bench, and sat on it. - -"Now," said Dorrington, "the first thing is a little matter of a -hundred pounds. That was the reward you promised if I should discover -who broke Gillett's arm last night. Well, I _have_. Do you happen to -have any notes with you? If not, make it a cheque." - -"But--but--how--I mean who--who----" - -"Tut, tut! Don't waste time, Mr. Mallows. _Who?_ Why, yourself, of -course. I knew all about it before I left you last night, though it -wasn't quite convenient to claim the reward then, for reasons you'll -understand presently. Come, that little hundred!" - -"But what--what proof have you? I'm not to be bounced like this, you -know." Mr. Mallows was gathering his faculties again. - -"Proof? Why, man alive, be reasonable! Suppose I have none--none at -all? What difference does that make? Am I to walk out and tell your -fellow directors where I have met you--here--or am I to have that -hundred? More, am I to publish abroad that Mr. Paul Mallows is the -moving spirit in the rotten 'Avalanche Bicycle Company'?" - -"Well," Mallows answered reluctantly, "if you put it like that----" - -"But I only put it like that to make you see things reasonably. As a -matter of fact your connection with this new company is enough to bring -your little performance with the iron chair pretty near proof. But I -got at it from the other side. See here--you're much too clumsy with -your fingers, Mr. Mallows. First you go and tear the tip of your middle -finger opening your brougham door, and have to get court plaster from -me. Then you let that court plaster get frayed at the edge, and you -still keep it on. After that you execute your very successful chair -operation. When the eyes of the others are following the bicycles you -take the chair in the hand with the plaster on it, catching hold of it -at the place where a rough, loose, square nut protrudes, and you pitch -it on to the track so clumsily and nervously that the nut carries away -the frayed thread of the court plaster with it. Here it is, you see, -still in my pocket-book, where I put it last night by the light of the -lantern; just a sticky black silk thread, that's all. I've only brought -it to show you I'm playing a fair game with you. Of course I might -easily have got a witness before I took the thread off the nut, if I -had thought you were likely to fight the matter. But I knew you were -not. You can't fight, you know, with this bogus company business known -to me. So that I am only showing you this thread as an act of grace, -to prove that I have stumped you with perfect fairness. And now the -hundred. Here's a fountain pen, if you want one." - -"Well," said Mallows glumly, "I suppose I must, then." He took the -pen and wrote the cheque. Dorrington blotted it on the pad of his -pocket-book and folded it away. - -"So much for that!" he said. "That's just a little preliminary, you -understand. We've done these little things just as a guarantee of good -faith--not necessarily for publication, though you must remember that -as yet there's nothing to prevent it. I've done you a turn by finding -out who upset those bicycles, as you so ardently wished me to do last -night, and you've loyally fulfilled your part of the contract by paying -the promised reward--though I must say that you haven't paid with all -the delight and pleasure you spoke of at the time. But I'll forgive you -that, and now that the little _hors d'oeuvre_ is disposed of, we'll -proceed to serious business." - -Mallows looked uncomfortably glum. - -"But you mustn't look so ashamed of yourself, you know," Dorrington -said, purposely misinterpreting his glumness. "It's all business. -You were disposed for a little side flutter, so to speak--a little -speculation outside your regular business. Well, you mustn't be ashamed -of that." - -"No," Mallows observed, assuming something of his ordinarily ponderous -manner; "no, of course not. It's a little speculative deal. Everybody -does it, and there's a deal of money going." - -"Precisely. And since everybody does it, and there is so much money -going, you are only making your share." - -"Of course." Mr. Mallows was almost pompous by now. - -"_Of_ course." Dorrington coughed slightly. "Well now, do you know, -I am exactly the same sort of man as yourself--if you don't mind the -comparison. _I_ am disposed for a little side flutter, so to speak--a -little speculation outside my regular business. I also am not ashamed -of it. And since everybody does it, and there is so much money -going--why, _I_ am thinking of making _my_ share. So we are evidently a -pair, and naturally intended for each other!" - -Mr. Paul Mallows here looked a little doubtful. - -"See here, now," Dorrington proceeded. "I have lately taken it into -my head to operate a little on the cycle share market. That was why I -came round myself about that little spoke affair, instead of sending an -assistant. I wanted to know somebody who understood the cycle trade, -from whom I might get tips. You see I'm perfectly frank with you. Well, -I have succeeded uncommonly well. And I want you to understand that -I have gone every step of the way by fair work. I took nothing for -granted, and I played the game fairly. When you asked me (as you had -anxious reason to ask) if I had found anything, I told you there was -nothing very big--and see what a little thing the thread was! Before I -came away from the pavilion I made sure that you were really the only -man there with black court plaster on his fingers. I had noticed the -hands of every man but two, and I made an excuse of borrowing something -to see those. I saw your thin pretence of suspecting the betting men, -and I played up to it. I have had a telegraphic report on your Exeter -works this morning--a deserted cloth mills with nothing on it of yours -but a signboard, and only a deposit of rent paid. _There_ they referred -to the works here. _Here_ they referred to the works there. It was very -clever, really! Also I have had a telegraphic report of your make-up -adventure this morning. Clarkson does it marvellously, doesn't he? And, -by the way, that telegram bringing you down to Birmingham was not from -your confederate here, as perhaps you fancied. It was from me. Thanks -for coming so promptly. I managed to get a quiet look round here just -before you arrived, and on the whole the conclusion I come to as to -the 'Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited,' is this: A clever -man, whom it gives me great pleasure to know," with a bow to Mallows, -"conceives the notion of offering the public the very rottenest cycle -company ever planned, and all without appearing in it himself. He finds -what little capital is required; his two or three confederates help to -make up a board of directors, with one or two titled guinea-pigs, who -know nothing of the company and care nothing, and the rest's easy. A -professional racing man is employed to win races and make records, on -machines which have been specially made by another firm (perhaps it was -the 'Indestructible,' who knows?) to a private order, and afterwards -decorated with the name and style of the bogus company on a transfer. -For ordinary sale, bicycles of the 'trade' description are bought--so -much a hundred from the factors, and put your own name on 'em. They -come cheap, and they sell at a good price--the profit pays all expenses -and perhaps a bit over; and by the time they all break down the company -will be successfully floated, the money--the capital--will be divided, -the moving spirit and his confederates will have disappeared, and the -guinea-pigs will be left to stand the racket--if there is a racket. And -the moving spirit will remain unsuspected, a man of account in the -trade all the time! Admirable! All the work to be done at the 'works' -is the sticking on of labels and a bit of enamelling. Excellent, all -round! Isn't that about the size of your operations?" - -"Well, yes," Mallows answered, a little reluctantly, but with something -of modest pride in his manner, "that was the notion, since you speak so -plainly." - -"And it shall be the notion. All--everything--shall be as you have -planned it, with one exception, which is this. The moving spirit shall -divide his plunder with me." - -"_You?_ But--but--why, I gave you a hundred just now!" - -"Dear, dear! Why will you harp so much on that vulgar little hundred? -That's settled and done with. That's our little personal bargain in the -matter of the lamentable accident with the chair. We are now talking -of bigger business--not hundreds, but thousands, and not one of them, -but a lot. Come now, a mind like yours should be wide enough to admit -of a broad and large view of things. If I refrain from exposing this -charming scheme of yours I shall be promoting a piece of scandalous -robbery. Very well then, I want my promotion money, in the regular -way. Can I shut my eyes and allow a piece of iniquity like this to go -on unchecked, without getting anything by way of damages for myself? -Perish the thought! When all expenses are paid, and the confederates -are sent off with as little as they will take, you and I will divide -fairly, Mr. Mallows, respectable brothers in rascality. Mind, I might -say we'd divide to begin with, and leave you to pay expenses, but I am -always fair to a partner in anything of this sort. I shall just want a -little guarantee, you know--it's safest in such matters as these; say -a bill at six months for ten thousand pounds--which is very low. When -a satisfactory division is made you shall have the bill back. Come--I -have a bill-stamp ready, being so much convinced of your reasonableness -as to buy it this morning, though it cost five pounds." - -"But that's nonsense--you're trying to impose. I'll give you anything -reasonable--half is out of the question. What, after all the trouble -and worry and risk that I've had----" - -"Which would suffice for no more than to put you in gaol if I held up -my finger!" - -"But hang it, be reasonable! You're a mighty clever man, and you've -got me on the hip, as I admit. Say ten per cent." - -"You're wasting time, and presently the men will be back. Your choice -is between making half, or making none, and going to gaol into the -bargain. Choose!" - -"But just consider----" - -"Choose!" - -Mallows looked despairingly about him. "But really," he said, "I want -the money more than you think. I----" - -"For the last time--choose!" - -Mallows's despairing gaze stopped at the enamelling oven. "Well, well," -he said, "if I must, I must, I suppose. But I warn you, you may regret -it." - -"Oh dear no, I'm not so pessimistic. Come, you wrote a cheque--now I'll -write the bill. 'Six months after date, pay to me or my order the sum -of ten thousand pounds for value received'--excellent value too, _I_ -think. There you are!" - -When the bill was written and signed, Mallows scribbled his acceptance -with more readiness than might have been expected. Then he rose, and -said with something of brisk cheerfulness in his tone, "Well, that's -done, and the least said the soonest mended. You've won it, and I -won't grumble any more. I think I've done this thing pretty neatly, eh? -Come and see the 'works.'" - -Every other part of the place was empty of machinery. There were a good -many finished frames and wheels, bought separately, and now in course -of being fitted together for sale; and there were many more complete -bicycles of cheap but showy make to which nothing needed to be done but -to fix the red and gold "transfer" of the "Avalanche" company. Then -Mallows opened the tall iron door of the enamelling oven. - -"See this," he said; "this is the enamelling oven. Get in and look -round. The frames and other different parts hang on the racks after the -enamel is laid on, and all those gas jets are lighted to harden it by -heat. Do you see that deeper part there by the back?--go closer." - -Dorrington felt a push at his back and the door was swung to with a -bang, and the latch dropped. He was in the dark, trapped in a great -iron chamber. "I warned you," shouted Mallows from without; "I warned -you you might regret it!" And instantly Dorrington's nostrils were -filled with the smell of escaping gas. He realised his peril on the -instant. Mallows had given him the bill with the idea of silencing -him by murder and recovering it. He had pushed him into the oven -and had turned on the gas. It was dark, but to light a match would -mean death instantly, and without the match it must be death by -suffocation and poison of gas in a very few minutes. To appeal to -Mallows was useless--Dorrington knew too much. It would seem that at -last a horribly-fitting retribution had overtaken Dorrington in death -by a mode parallel to that which he and his creatures had prepared -for others. Dorrington's victims had drowned in water--or at least -Crofton's had, for I never ascertained definitely whether anybody had -met his death by the tank after the Croftons had taken service with -Dorrington--and now Dorrington himself was to drown in gas. The oven -was of sheet iron, fastened by a latch in the centre. Dorrington flung -himself desperately against the door, and it gave outwardly at the -extreme bottom. He snatched a loose angle-iron with which his hand -came in contact, dashed against the door once more, and thrust the -iron through where it strained open. Then, with another tremendous -plunge, he drove the door a little more outward and raised the -angle-iron in the crack; then once more, and raised it again. He was -near to losing his senses, when, with one more plunge, the catch of the -latch, not designed for such treatment, suddenly gave way, the door -flew open, and Dorrington, blue in the face, staring, stumbling and -gasping, came staggering out into the fresher air, followed by a gush -of gas. - -[Illustration: "HAULED THE STRUGGLING WRETCH ACROSS THE ROOM."] - -Mallows had retreated to the rooms behind, and thither Dorrington -followed him, gaining vigour and fury at every step. At sight of him -the wretched Mallows sank in a corner, sighing and shivering with -terror. Dorrington reached him and clutched him by the collar. There -should be no more honour between these two thieves now. He would drag -Mallows forth and proclaim him aloud; and he would keep that £10,000 -bill. He hauled the struggling wretch across the room, tearing off -the crêpe whiskers as he came, while Mallows supplicated and whined, -fearing that it might be the other's design to imprison _him_ in the -enamelling oven. But at the door of the room against that containing -the oven their progress came to an end, for the escaped gas had -reached the lighted candle, and with one loud report the partition wall -fell in, half burying Mallows where he lay, and knocking Dorrington -over. - -Windows fell out of the building, and men broke through the front -gate, climbed into the ruined rooms and stopped the still escaping -gas. When the two men and the boy returned, with the conspirator who -had been in charge of the works, they found a crowd from the hardware -and cycle factories thereabout, surveying with great interest the -spectacle of the extrication of Mr. Paul Mallows, managing director of -the "Indestructible Bicycle Company," from the broken bricks, mortar, -bicycles and transfers of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, -Limited," and the preparations for carrying him to a surgeon's where -his broken leg might be set. As for Dorrington, a crushed hat and a -torn coat were all his hurts, beyond a few scratches. And in a couple -of hours it was all over Birmingham, and spreading to other places, -that the business of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company" consisted -of sticking brilliant labels on factors' bicycles, bought in batches; -for the whole thing was thrown open to the general gaze by the -explosion. So that when, next day, Lant won the fifty miles race in -London, he was greeted with ironical shouts of "Gum on yer transfer!" -"Hi! mind yer label!" "Where did you steal that bicycle?" "Sold yer -shares?" and so forth. - -Somehow the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited," never went -to allotment. It was said that a few people in remote and benighted -spots, where news never came till it was in the history books, had -applied for shares, but the bankers returned their money, doubtless -to their extreme disappointment. It was found politic, also, that Mr. -Paul Mallows should retire from the directorate of the "Indestructible -Bicycle Company"--a concern which is still, I believe, flourishing -exceedingly. - -As for Dorrington, he had his hundred pounds reward. But the bill for -£10,000 he never presented. Why, I do not altogether know, unless he -found that Mr. Mallows's financial position, as he had hinted, was not -altogether so good as was supposed. At any rate, it was found among the -notes and telegrams in this case in the Dorrington deed-box. - - - - -_THE CASE OF MR. LOFTUS DEACON_ - - - - -V - -The Case of Mr. Loftus Deacon - - -I - -This was a case that helped to give Dorrington much of that reputation -which unfortunately too often enabled him to profit himself far beyond -the extent to which his clients intended. It occurred some few years -back, and there was such a stir at the time over the mysterious death -of Mr. Loftus Deacon that it well paid Dorrington to use his utmost -diligence in an honest effort to uncover the mystery. It gave him -one of his best advertisements, though indeed it occasioned him less -trouble in the unravelling than many a less interesting case. There -were scarcely any memoranda of the affair among Dorrington's papers, -beyond entries of fees paid, and I have almost entirely relied upon -the account given me by Mr. Stone, manager in the employ of the firm -owning the premises in which Mr. Deacon died. - -These premises consisted of a large building let out in expensive -flats, one of the first places built with that design in the West-End -of London. The building was one of three, all belonging to the firm I -have mentioned, and numbered 1, 2 and 3, Bedford Mansions. They stood -in the St. James's district, and Mr. Loftus Deacon's quarters were in -No. 2. - -Mr. Deacon's magnificent collection of oriental porcelain will be -remembered as long as any in the national depositories; much of it was -for a long while lent, and, by Mr. Deacon's will, passed permanently -into possession of the nation. His collection of oriental arms, -however, was broken up and sold, as were also his other innumerable -objects of Eastern art--lacquers, carvings, and so forth. He was a -wealthy man, this Mr. Deacon, a bachelor of sixty, and his whole life -was given to his collections. He was currently reported to spend some -£15,000 a year on them, and, in addition, would make inroads into -capital for special purchases at the great sales. People wondered -where all the things were kept. And indeed they had reason, for -Mr. Deacon's personal establishment was but a suite of rooms on the -ground floor of Bedford Mansions. But the bulk of the collections were -housed at various museums--indeed it was a matter of banter among his -acquaintances that Mr. Loftus Deacon made the taxpayers warehouse most -of his things; moreover, the flat was a large one--it occupied almost -the whole of the ground-floor of the building, and it overflowed with -the choicest of its tenant's possessions. There were eight large and -lofty rooms, as well as the lobby, scullery and so forth, and every -one was full. The walls were hung with the most precious _kakemono_ -and _nishikiyé_ of Japan; and glass cabinets stood everywhere, packed -with porcelain and faience--celadon, peach-bloom, and blue and white, -Satsuma, Raku, Ninsei, and Arita--many a small piece worth its weight -in gold over and over and over again. At places on the wall, among -the _kakemono_ and pictures of the _ukioyé_, were trophies of arms. -Two suits of ancient Japanese armour, each complete and each the -production of one of the most eminent of the Miochin family, were -exhibited on stands, and swords stood in many corners and lay in -many racks. Innumerable drawers contained specimens of the greatest -lacquer ware of Korin, Shunsho, Kajikawa, Koyetsu, and Ritsuo, each -in its wadded brocade _fukusa_ with the light wooden box encasing -all. In more glass cabinets stood _netsuké_ and _okimono_ of ivory, -bronze, wood, and lacquer. There were a few gods and goddesses, and -conspicuous among them two life-sized gilt Buddhas beamed mildly over -all from the shelves on which they were raised. By the operation of -natural selection it came about that the choicest of all Mr. Deacon's -possessions were collected in these rooms. Here were none of the great -cumbersome pots, good in their way, but made of old time merely for the -European market. Of all that was Japanese every piece was of the best -and rarest, consequently, in almost every case, of small dimensions, as -is the way of the greatest of the wares of old Japan. And of all the -precious contents of these rooms everything was oriental in its origin -except the contents of one case, which displayed specimens of the most -magnificent goldsmiths' and silver-smiths' work of mediæval Europe. It -stood in the room which Mr. Loftus Deacon used as his sitting-room, and -more than one of his visitors had wondered that such valuable property -was not kept at a banker's. This view, however, always surprised and -irritated Mr. Deacon. "Keep it at a banker's?" he would say. "Why not -melt it down at once? The things are works of art, things of beauty, -and that's why I have them, not merely because they're gold and silver. -To shut them up in a strong-room would be the next thing to destroying -them altogether. Why not lock the whole of my collections in safes, and -never look at them? They are all valuable. But if they are not to be -seen I would rather have the money they cost." So the gold and silver -stood in its case, to the blinking wonderment of messengers and porters -whose errands took them into Mr. Loftus Deacon's sitting-room. The -contents of this case were the only occasion, however, of Mr. Deacon's -straying from oriental paths in building up his collection. There they -stood, but he made no attempt to add to them. He went about his daily -hunting, bargaining, cataloguing, cleaning, and exhibiting to friends, -but all his new treasures were from the East, and most were Japanese. -His chief visitors were travelling buyers of curiosities; little -Japanese who had come to England to study medicine and were paying -their terms by the sale of heirlooms in pottery and lacquer; porters -from Christie's and Foster's; and sometimes men from Copleston's--the -odd emporium by the riverside where lions and monkeys, porcelain and -savage weapons were bought and sold close by the ships that brought -them home. The travellers were suspicious and cunning; the Japanese -were bright, polite, and dignified, and the men from Copleston's were -wiry, hairy and amphibious; one was an enormously muscular little -hunchback nicknamed Slackjaw--a quaint and rather repulsive compound of -showman, sailor and half-caste rough; and all were like mermen, more -or less. These curious people came and went, and Mr. Deacon went on -buying, cataloguing, and joying in his possessions. It was the happiest -possible life for a lonely old man with his tastes and his means of -gratifying them, and it went placidly on till one Wednesday mid-day. -Then Mr. Deacon was found dead in his rooms in most extraordinary and, -it seemed, altogether unaccountable circumstances. - -There was but one door leading into Mr. Deacon's rooms from the open -corridor of the building, and this was immediately opposite the large -street door. When one entered from the street one ascended three or -four broad marble steps, pushed open one of a pair of glazed swing -doors and found oneself facing the door by which Mr. Deacon entered -and left his quarters. There had originally been other doors into -the corridor from some of the rooms, but those Mr. Deacon had had -blocked up, so making the flat entirely self-contained. Just by the -glazed swing doors which I have spoken of, and in full view of the -old gentleman's door, the hall-porter's box stood. It was glazed on -all sides, and the porter sat so that Mr. Deacon's door was always -before his eyes, and, so long as he was there, it was very unlikely -that anybody or anything could leave or enter by that door unobserved -by him. It is important to remember this, in view of what happened on -the occasion I am writing of. There was one other exterior door to Mr. -Deacon's flat, and one only. It gave upon the back spiral staircase, -and was usually kept locked. This staircase had no outlet to the -corridors, but merely extended from the housekeeper's rooms at the top -of the building to the basement. It was little used, and then only by -servants, for it gave access only to the rooms on its own side. There -was no way from this staircase to the outer street except through the -private rooms of the tenants, or through those of the housekeeper. - -That Wednesday morning things had happened precisely in the ordinary -way. Mr. Deacon had risen and breakfasted as usual. He was alone, with -his newspaper and his morning letters, when his breakfast was taken -in and when it was removed. He had remained in his rooms till between -twelve and one o'clock. Goods had arrived for him (this was an almost -daily occurrence), and one or two ordinary visitors had called and -gone away again. It was Mr. Deacon's habit to lunch at his club, and -at about a quarter to one, or thereabout, he had come out, locked his -door, and leaving his usual message that he should be at the club for -an hour or two, in case anybody called, he had left the building. At -about one, however, he had returned hurriedly, having forgotten some -letters. "I didn't give you any letters for the post, did I, Beard, -before I went out?" he asked the porter. And the porter replied that he -had not. Mr. Deacon thereupon crossed the corridor, entered his door, -and shut it behind him. - -He had been gone but a few seconds, when there arose an outcry from -within the rooms--a shout followed in a breath by a loud cry of pain, -and then silence. Beard, the porter, ran to the door and knocked, but -there was no reply. "Did you call, sir?" he shouted, and knocked again, -but still without response. The door was shut, and it had a latch lock -with no exterior handle. Beard, who had had an uncle die of apoplexy, -was now thoroughly alarmed, and shouted up the speaking-tube for the -housekeeper's keys. In course of a few minutes they were brought, and -Beard and the housekeeper entered. - -The lobby was as usual, and the sitting-room was in perfect order. But -in the room beyond Mr. Loftus Deacon lay in a pool of blood, with two -large and fearful gashes in his head. Not a soul was in any of the -rooms, though the two men, first shutting the outer door, searched -diligently. All windows and doors were shut, and the rooms were -tenantless and undisturbed, except that on the floor lay Mr. Deacon -in his blood at the foot of a pedestal whereupon there squatted, with -serenely fierce grin, the god Hachiman, gilt and painted, carrying in -one of his four hands a snake, in another a mace, in a third a small -human figure, and in the fourth a heavy, straight, guardless sword; and -all around furniture, cabinets, porcelain, lacquer and everything else -lay undisturbed. - -At first sight of the tragedy the porter had sent the lift-man for -the police, and soon they arrived, and a surgeon with them. For the -surgeon there was very little to do. Mr. Deacon was dead. Either of the -two frightful gashes in the head would have been fatal, and they had -obviously both been delivered with the same instrument--something heavy -and exceedingly sharp. - -The police now set themselves to close investigation. The porter was -certain that nobody had entered the rooms that morning who had not -afterwards left. He was sure that nobody had entered unobserved, and -he was sure that Mr. Deacon had re-entered his chambers unaccompanied. -Working, therefore, on the assumption that the murderer could not -have entered by the front door, the police turned their attention -to the back door and the windows. The door to the back staircase -was locked, and the key was in the lock and inside. Therefore they -considered the windows. There were but three of these that looked upon -the street, two in one room and one in another, but these were shut -and fastened within. Other rooms were lighted by windows looking upon -lighting-wells, some being supplied with reflectors. All these windows -were found to be quite undisturbed, and fastened within, except one. -This window was in the bedroom, and, though it was shut, the catch was -not fastened. The porter declared that it was Mr. Deacon's practice -invariably to fasten every shut window, a thing he was always very -careful about. Moreover, the window now found unfastened and shut was -always left open a foot or so all day, to air the bedroom. More, a -housemaid was brought who had that morning made the bed and dusted the -room. The window was opened, she said, when she had entered the room, -and she had left it so, as she always did. Therefore, shut as it was, -but not fastened, it seemed plain that this window must have given exit -to the murderer, since no other way appeared possible. Also, to shut -the window behind him would be the fugitive's natural policy. The lower -panes were of ground glass, and at least pursuit would be delayed. - -The window looked upon a lighting-well, and the concreted floor of -the basement was but fifteen or twenty feet below. Careful inquiries -disclosed the fact that a man had been at work painting the joinery -about this well-bottom. He was a man of very indifferent character--had -in fact "done time"--and he was employed for odd jobs by way of -charity, being some sort of connection of a member of the firm owning -the buildings. He had, indeed, received a good education, fitted to -place him in a very different position from that in which he now found -himself, but he was a black sheep. He drank, he gambled, and finally -he stole. His relatives helped him again and again, but their efforts -were useless, and now he was indebted to one of them for his present -occupation at a pound a week. The police, of course, knew something of -him, and postponed questioning him directly until they had investigated -a little further. It might be that Mr. Deacon's death was the work of a -conspiracy wherein more than one had participated. - - -II - -The next morning (Thursday) Mr. Henry Colson was an early caller at -Dorrington's office. Mr. Colson was a thin, grizzled man of sixty or -thereabout, who had been a close friend--the only intimate friend, -indeed--of Mr. Loftus Deacon. He was a widower, and he lived in rooms -scarce two hundred yards distant from Bedford Mansions, where his -friend had died. - -"My business, Mr. Dorrington," he said, "is in connection with the -terrible death of my old friend Mr. Loftus Deacon, of which you no -doubt have heard or read in the morning papers." - -"Yes," Dorrington assented, "both in this morning's papers and the -evening papers of yesterday." - -"Very good. I may tell you that I am sole executor under Mr. Deacon's -will. The will indeed is in my possession (I am a retired solicitor), -and there happens to be a sum set apart in that will out of which I am -to defray any expenses that may arise in connection with his death. -It really seems to me that I should be quite justified in using some -part of that sum in paying for inquiries to be conducted by such -an experienced man as yourself, into the cause of my poor friend's -death. At any rate, I wish you to make such inquiries, even if I have -to pay the fees myself. I am convinced that there is something very -extraordinary--something very deep--in the tragedy. The police are -pottering about, of course, and keeping very mysterious as to the -matter, but I expect that's simply because they know nothing. They have -made no arrest, and perhaps every minute of delay is making the thing -more difficult. As executor, of course, I have access to the rooms. Can -you come and look at them now?" - -"Oh yes," Dorrington answered, reaching for his hat. "I suppose there's -no doubt of the case being one of murder? Suicide is not likely, I take -it?" - -"Oh no--certainly not. He was scarcely the sort of man to commit -suicide, I should say. And he was as cheerful as he could be the -afternoon before, when I last saw him. Besides, the surgeon says it's -nothing of the kind. A man committing suicide doesn't gash himself -twice over the head, or even once. And in this case the first blow -would have made him incapable of another." - -"I have heard nothing about the weapon," Dorrington remarked, as they -entered a cab. "Has it been found?" - -"That's a difficulty," Mr. Colson answered. "It would seem not. Of -course there are numbers of weapons about the place--Japanese swords -and what not--any one of which _might_ have caused such injuries. But -there are no bloodstains on any of them." - -"Is any article of value missing?" - -"I believe not. Everything seemed to be in its place, so far as I -noticed yesterday. But then I was not there long, and was too much -agitated to notice very particularly. At any rate the old gold and -silver plate had not been disturbed. He kept that in a large case in -his sitting-room, and it would certainly be the plate that the murderer -would have made for first, if robbery had been his object." - -Mr. Colson gave Dorrington the other details of the case, already set -forth in this account, and presently the cab stopped before No. 2, -Bedford Mansions. The body, of course, had been removed, but otherwise -the rooms had not been disturbed. The porter let them into the chambers -by aid of the housekeeper's key. - -"They don't seem to have found his keys," Mr. Colson explained, "and -that will be troublesome for me, I expect, presently. He usually -carried them with him, but they were not on the body when found." - -"That may be important," Dorrington said. "But let us look at the -rooms." - -They walked through the large apartments one after the other, and -Dorrington glanced casually about him as he went. Presently Mr. Colson -stopped, struck with an idea. "Ah!" he said, more to himself than to -Dorrington. "I will just see." - -He turned quickly back into the room they had just quitted, and made -for the broad shelf that ran the length of the wall at about the height -of an ordinary table. "Yes!" he cried. "It is! It's gone!" - -"What is gone?" - -"The sword--the Masamuné!" - -The whole surface of the shelf, covered with a silk cloth, was occupied -by Japanese swords and dirks with rich mountings. Most lay on their -sides in rows, but two or three were placed in the lacquered racks. -Mr. Colson stood and pointed at a rack which was standing alone and -swordless. "That is where it was," he said. "I saw it--was talking -about it, in fact--the afternoon before. No, it's nowhere about. It's -not like any of the others. Let me see." And Mr. Colson, much excited, -hurried from room to room wherever swords were kept, searching for the -missing specimen. - -"No," he said at last, looking strangely startled; "It's gone. And I -think we are near the soul of the mystery." He spoke in hushed, uneasy -tones, and his eyes gave token of strange apprehension. - -"What is it?" Dorrington asked. "What about this sword?" - -"Come into the sitting-room." Mr. Colson led Dorrington away from the -scene of Mr. Deacon's end, away from the empty sword rack and from -under the shadow of the grinning god with its four arms, its snake, -and its threatening sword. "I don't think I'm very superstitious," Mr. -Colson proceeded, "but I really feel that I can talk more freely about -the matter in here." - -They sat at the table, over against the case of plate, and Mr. Colson -went on. "The sword I speak of," he said, "was much prized by my -poor friend, who brought it with him from Japan nearly twenty years -back--not many years after the civil war there, in fact. It was a very -ancient specimen--of the fourteenth century, I think--and the work of -the famous swordsmith Masamuné. Masamuné's work is very rarely met -with, it seems, and Mr. Deacon felt himself especially fortunate -in securing this example. It is the only piece of Masamuné's work -in the collection. I may tell you that a sword by one of the great -old masters is one of the rarest of all the rarities that come from -Japan. The possessors of the best keep them rather than sell them at -any price. Such swords were handed down from father to son for many -generations, and a Japanese of the old school would have been disgraced -had he parted with his father's blade even under the most pressing -necessity. The mounts he might possibly sell, if he were in very bad -circumstances, but the blade never. Of course, such a thing _has_ -occurred--and it occurred in this very case, as you shall hear. But -as an almost invariable rule the Japanese _samurai_ would part with -his life by starvation rather than with his father's sword by sale. -Such swords would never be stolen, either, for there was a firm belief -that a faithful spirit resided in each, which would bring terrible -disaster on any wrongful possessor. Each sword had its own name, just -as the legendary sword of King Arthur had, and a man's social standing -was judged, not by his house nor by his dress, but by the two swords -in his girdle. The ancient sword-smiths wore court dress and made -votive offerings when they forged their best blades, and the gods were -supposed to assist and to watch over the career of the weapon. Thus you -will understand that such an article was apt to become an object almost -of worship among the _samurai_ or warrior-class in Old Japan. And now -to come to the sword in question. It was a long sword or _katana_ (the -swords, as you know, were worn in pairs, and the smaller was called -the _wakizashi_), and it was mounted very handsomely with fittings by -a great metal worker of the Goto family. The signature of the great -Masamuné himself was engraved in the usual place--on the iron tang -within the hilt. Mr. Deacon bought the weapon of its possessor, a man -of some distinction before the overthrow of the Shogun in 1868, but -who was reduced to deep poverty by the change in affairs. Mr. Deacon -came across him in his direst straits, when his children were near to -starvation, and the man sold the sword for a sum that was a little -fortune to him, though it only represented some four or five pounds of -our money. Mr. Deacon was always very proud of his treasure--indeed -it was said to be the only blade by Masamuné in Europe; and the two -Japanese things that he had always most longed for, I have heard him -say, were a Masamuné sword and a piece of violet lacquer--that precious -lacquer the secret of making which died long ago. The Masamuné he -acquired, as I have been telling you, but the violet lacquer he never -once encountered. - -"Six months or so back, Deacon received a visit from a Japanese--taller -than usual for a Japanese (I have seen him myself) and with the refined -type of face characteristic of some of the higher class of his country. -His name was Keigo Kanamaro, his card said, and he introduced himself -as the son of Keigo Kiyotaki, the man who had sold Deacon his sword. -He had come to England and had found my friend after much inquiry, he -said, expressly to take back his father's _katana_. His father was -dead, and he desired to place the sword in his tomb, that the soul of -the old man might rest in peace, undisturbed by the disgrace that had -fallen upon him by the sale of the sword that had been his and his -ancestors' for hundreds of years back. The father had vowed when he had -received the sword in his turn from Kanamaro's grandfather, never to -part with it, but had broken his vow under pressure of want. He (the -son) had earned money as a merchant (an immeasurable descent for a -_samurai_ with the feelings of the old school), and he was prepared to -buy back the Masamuné blade with the Goto mountings for a much higher -price than his father had received for it." - -"And I suppose Deacon wouldn't sell it?" Dorrington asked. - -"No," Mr. Colson replied. "He wouldn't have sold it at any price, I'm -sure. Well, Kanamaro pressed him very urgently, and called again and -again. He was very gentlemanly and very dignified, but he was very -earnest. He apologised for making a commercial offer, assured Deacon -that he was quite aware that he was no mere buyer and seller, but -pleaded the urgency of his case. 'It is not here as in Japan,' he -said, 'among us, the _samurai_ of the old days. You have your beliefs, -we have ours. It is my religion that I must place the _katana_ in my -father's grave. My father disgraced himself and sold his sword in order -that I might not starve when I was a little child. I would rather that -he had let me die, but since I am alive, and I know that you have the -sword, I must take it and lay it by his bones. I will make an offer. -Instead of giving you money, I will give you another sword--a sword -worth as much money as my father's--perhaps more. I have had it sent -from Japan since I first saw you. It is a blade made by the great -Yukiyasu, and it has a scabbard and mountings by an older and greater -master than the Goto who made those for my father's sword.' But it -happened that Deacon already had two swords by Yukiyasu, while of -Masamuné he had only the one. So he tried to reason the Japanese out -of his fancy. But that was useless. Kanamaro called again and again -and got to be quite a nuisance. He left off for a month or two, but -about a fortnight ago he appeared again. He grew angry and forgot his -oriental politeness. 'The English have the English ways,' he said, -'and we have ours--yes, though many of my foolish countrymen are in -haste to be the same as the English are. We have our beliefs, and we -have our knowledge, and I tell you that there are things which you -would call superstition, but which are very real! Our old gods are not -all dead yet, I tell you! In the old times no man would wear or keep -another man's sword. Why? Because the great sword has a soul just as -a man has, and it knows and the gods know! No man kept another's -sword who did not fall into terrible misfortune and death, sooner or -later. Give me my father's _katana_ and save yourself. My father weeps -in my ears at night, and I must bring him his _katana!_' I was talking -to poor Deacon, as I told you, only on Tuesday afternoon, and he told -me that Kanamaro had been there again the day before, in a frantic -state--so bad, indeed, that Deacon thought of applying to the Japanese -legation to have him taken care of, for he seemed quite mad. 'Mind, -you foolish man!' he said. 'My gods still live, and they are strong! -My father wanders on the dark path and cannot go to his gods without -the swords in his girdle. His father asks of his vow! Between here and -Japan there is a great sea, but my father may walk even here, looking -for his _katana_, and he is angry! I go away for a little. But my gods -know, and my father knows!' And then he took himself off. And now"--Mr. -Colson nodded towards the next room and dropped his voice--"now poor -Deacon is dead and the sword is gone!" - -[Illustration: "GIVE ME MY FATHER'S KATANA, AND SAVE YOURSELF."] - -"Kanamaro has not been seen about the place, I suppose, since the visit -you speak of, on Monday?" Dorrington asked. - -"No. And I particularly asked as to yesterday morning. The hall-porter -swears that no Japanese came to the place." - -"As to the letters, now. You say that when Mr. Deacon came back, after -having left, apparently to get his lunch, he said he came for forgotten -letters. Were any such letters afterwards found?" - -"Yes--there were three, lying on this very table, stamped ready for -postage." - -"Where are they now?" - -"I have them at my chambers. I opened them in the presence of the -police in charge of the case. There was nothing very important about -them--appointments and so forth, merely--and so the police left them in -my charge, as executor." - -"Nevertheless I should like to see them. Not just now, but presently. -I think I must see this man presently--the man who was painting in the -basement below the window that is supposed to have been shut by the -murderer in his escape. That is if the police haven't frightened him." - -"Very well, we'll see after him as soon as you like. There was just -one other thing--rather a curious coincidence, though of course there -can't be anything in such a superstitious fancy--but I think I told -you that Deacon's body was found lying at the feet of the four-handed -god in the other room?" - -"Yes." - -"Just so." Mr. Colson seemed to think a little more of the -superstitious fancy than he confessed. "Just so," he said again. "At -the feet of the god, and immediately under the hand carrying the sword; -it is not wooden, but an actual steel sword, in fact." - -"I noticed that." - -"Yes. Now that is a figure of Hachiman, the Japanese god of war--a -recent addition to the collection and a very ancient specimen. Deacon -bought it at Copleston's only a few days ago--indeed it arrived here on -Wednesday morning. Deacon was telling me about it on Tuesday afternoon. -He bought it because of its extraordinary design, showing such signs of -Indian influence. Hachiman is usually represented with no more than the -usual number of a man's arms, and with no weapon but a sword. This is -the only image of Hachiman that Deacon ever saw or heard of with four -arms. And after he had bought it he ascertained that this was said to -be one of the idols that carry with them ill-luck from the moment they -leave their temples. One of Copleston's men confided to Deacon that -the lascar seamen and stokers on board the ship that brought it over -swore that everything went wrong from the moment that Hachiman came -on board--and indeed the vessel was nearly lost off Finisterre. And -Copleston himself, the man said, was glad to be quit of it. Things had -disappeared in the most extraordinary and unaccountable manner, and -other things had been found smashed (notably a large porcelain vase) -without any human agency, after standing near the figure. Well," Mr. -Colson concluded, "after all that, and remembering what Kanamaro said -about the gods of his country who watch over ancient swords, it _does_ -seem odd, doesn't it, that as soon as poor Deacon gets the thing he -should be found stricken dead at its feet?" - -Dorrington was thinking. "Yes," he said presently, "it is certainly a -strange affair altogether. Let us see the odd-job man now--the man who -was in the basement below the window. Or rather, find out where he is -and leave me to find him." - -Mr. Colson stepped out and spoke with the hall-porter. Presently he -returned with news. "He's gone!" he said. "Bolted!" - -"What--the man who was in the basement?" - -"Yes. It seems the police questioned him pretty closely yesterday, and -he seized the first opportunity to cut and run." - -"Do you know what they asked him?" - -"Examined him generally, I suppose, as to what he had observed at the -time. The only thing he seems to have said was that he heard a window -shut at about one o'clock. Questioned further, he got into confusion -and equivocation, more especially when they mentioned a ladder which -is kept in a passage close by where he was painting. It seems they -had examined this before speaking to him, and found it had been just -recently removed and put back. It was thick with dust, except just -where it had been taken hold of to shift, and there the hand-marks -were quite clean. Nobody was in the basement but Dowden (that is the -man's name), and nobody else could have shifted that ladder without his -hearing and knowing of it. Moreover, the ladder was just the length -to reach Deacon's window. They asked if he had seen anybody move the -ladder, and he most anxiously and vehemently declared that he had not. -A little while after he was missing, and he hasn't reappeared." - -"And they let him go!" Dorrington exclaimed. "What fools!" - -"He _may_ know something about it, of course," Colson said dubiously; -"but with that sword missing, and knowing what we do of Kanamaro's -anxiety to get it at any cost, and--and"--he glanced toward the other -room where the idol stood--"and one thing and another, it seems to me -we should look in another direction." - -"We will look in all directions," Dorrington replied. "Kanamaro may -have enlisted Dowden's help. Do you know where to find Kanamaro?" - -"Yes. Deacon has had letters from him, which I have seen. He lived in -lodgings near the British Museum." - -"Very well. Now, do you happen to know whether a night porter is kept -at this place?" - -"No, there is none. The outer door is shut at twelve. Anybody coming -home after that must ring up the housekeeper by the electric bell." - -"The tenants do not have keys for the outer door?" - -"No; none but keys for their own rooms." - -"Good. Now, Mr. Colson, I want to think things over a little. Would -you care to go at once and ascertain whether or not Kanamaro is still -at the address you speak of?" - -"Certainly, I will. Perhaps I should have told you that, though he -knows me slightly, he has never spoken of his father's sword to me, and -does not know that I know anything about it. He seems, indeed, to have -spoken about it to nobody but Deacon himself. He was very proud and -reticent in the matter; and now that Deacon is dead, he probably thinks -nobody alive knows of the matter of the sword but himself. If he is at -home what shall I do?" - -"In that case keep him in sight and communicate with me, or with the -police. I shall stay here for a little while. Then I shall get the -hall-porter (if you will instruct him before you go) to show me the -ladder and the vicinity of Dowden's operations. Also, I think I shall -look at the back staircase." - -"But that was found locked, with the key inside." - -"Well, well, there _are_ ways of managing that, as you would know if -you knew as much about housebreaking as I do. But we'll see." - - -III - -Mr. Colson took a cab for Kanamaro's lodgings. Kanamaro was not in, -he found, and he had given notice to leave his rooms. The servant at -the door thought that he was going abroad, since his boxes were being -packed, apparently for that purpose. The servant did not know at what -time he would be back. - -Mr. Colson thought for a moment of reporting these facts at once to -Dorrington, but on second thoughts he determined to hurry to the City -and make inquiry at some of the shipping offices as to the vessels soon -to leave for Japan. On the way, however, he bethought him to buy a -shipping paper and gather his information from that. He found what he -wanted from the paper, but he kept the cab on its way, for he happened -to know a man in authority at the Anglo-Malay Company's office, and it -might be a good thing to take a look at their passenger list. Their -next ship for Yokohama was to sail in a few days. - -But he found it unnecessary to see the passenger list. As he entered -one of the row of swing doors which gave access to the large general -and inquiry office of the steamship company, he perceived Keigo -Kanamaro leaving by another. Kanamaro had not seen him. Mr. Colson -hesitated for a moment, and then turned and followed him. - -And now Mr. Colson became suddenly seized with a burning fancy to -play the subtle detective on his own account. Plainly Kanamaro feared -nothing, walking about thus openly, and taking his passage for Japan -at the chief office of the first line of steamships that anybody would -think of who contemplated a voyage to Japan, instead of leaving the -country, as he might have done, by some indirect route, and shipping -for Japan from a foreign port. Doubtless, he still supposed that -nobody knew of his errand in search of his father's sword. Mr. Colson -quickened his pace and came up beside the Japanese. - -Kanamaro was a well-made man of some five feet eight or -nine--remarkably tall for a native of Dai Nippon. His cheek-bones had -not the prominence noticeable in the Japanese of the lower classes, -and his pale oval face and aquiline nose gave token of high _sikozu_ -family. His hair only was of the coarse black that is seen on the heads -of all Japanese. He perceived Mr. Colson, and stopped at once with a -grave bow. - -"Good morning," Mr. Colson said. "I saw you leaving the steamship -office, and wondered whether or not you were going to leave us." - -"Yes--I go home to Japan by the next departing ship," Kanamaro -answered. He spoke with an excellent pronunciation, but with the -intonation and the suppression of short syllables peculiar to his -countrymen who speak English. "My beesness is finished." - -Mr. Colson's suspicions were more than strengthened--almost confirmed. -He commanded his features, however, and replied, as he walked by -Keigo's side, "Ah! your visit has been successful, then?" - -"It has been successful," Kanamaro answered, "at a very great cost." - -"At a very great cost?" - -"Yes--I did not expect to have to do what I have done--I should once -not have believed it possible that I _could_ do it. But"--Kanamaro -checked himself hastily and resumed his grave reserve--"but that is -private beesness, and not for me to disturb you with." - -Mr. Colson had the tact to leave that line of fishing alone for a -little. He walked a few yards in silence, and then asked, with his eyes -furtively fixed on the face of the Japanese, "Do you know of the god -Hachiman?" - -"It is Hachiman the warrior; him of eight flags," Kanamaro replied. -"Yes, I know, of course." - -He spoke as though he would banish the subject. But Mr. Colson went on-- - -"Did he preside over the forging of ancient sword-blades in Japan?" he -asked. - -"I do not know of preside--that is a new word. But the great workers -of the steel, those who made the _katana_ in the times of Yoshitsuné -and Taiko-Sama, they hung curtains and made offerings to Hachiman when -they forged a blade--yes. The great Muramasa and the great Masamuné -and Sanénori--they forged their blades at the foot of Hachiman. And it -is believed that the god Inari came unseen with his hammer and forged -the steel too. Though Hachiman is Buddhist and Inari is Shinto. But -these are not things to talk about. There is one religion, which is -yours, and there is another religion, which is mine, and it is not -good that we talk together of them. There are things that people call -superstition when they are of another religion, though they may be very -true." - -They walked a little farther, and then Mr. Colson, determined to -penetrate Kanamaro's mask of indifference, observed-- - -"It's a very sad thing this about Mr. Deacon." - -"What is that?" asked Kanamaro, stolidly. - -"Why, it is in all the newspapers!" - -"The newspapers I do not read at all." - -"Mr. Deacon has been killed--murdered in his rooms! He was found lying -dead at the feet of Hachiman the god." - -"Indeed!" Kanamaro answered politely, but with something rather like -stolid indifference. "That is very sad. I am sorry. I did not know he -had a Hachiman." - -"And they say," Mr. Colson pursued, "that _something_ has been taken!" - -"Ah, yes," Kanamaro answered, just as coolly; "there were many things -of much value in the rooms." And after a little while he added, "I see -it is a little late. You will excuse me, for I must go to lunch at my -lodgings. Good-day." - -He bowed, shook hands, and hailed a cab. Mr. Colson heard him direct -the cabman to his lodgings, and then, in another cab, Mr. Colson made -for Dorrington's office. - -Kanamaro's stolidity, the lack of anything like surprise at the news -of Mr. Deacon's death, his admission that he had finished his business -in England successfully--these things placed the matter beyond all -doubt in Mr. Colson's mind. Plainly he felt so confident that none knew -of his errand in England, that he took things with perfect coolness, -and even ventured so far as to speak of the murder in very near -terms--to say that he did not expect to have to do what he had done, -and would not have believed it possible that he _could_ do it--though, -to be sure, he checked himself at once before going farther. Certainly -Dorrington must be told at once. That would be better than going to -the police, perhaps, for possibly the police might not consider the -evidence sufficient to justify an arrest, and Dorrington may have -ascertained something in the meantime. - -Dorrington had not been heard of at his office since leaving there -early in the morning. So Mr. Colson saw Hicks, and arranged that a -man should be put on to watch Kanamaro, and should be sent instantly, -before he could leave his lodgings again. Then Mr. Colson hurried to -Bedford Mansions. - -There he saw the housekeeper. From him he learned that Dorrington had -left some time since, promising either to be back or to telegraph -during the afternoon. Also, he learned that Beard, the hall-porter, was -in a great state of indignation and anxiety as a consequence of the -discovery that he was being watched by the police. He had got a couple -of days leave of absence to go and see his mother, who was ill, and he -found his intentions and destination a matter of pressing inquiry. Mr. -Colson assured the housekeeper that he might promise Beard a speedy -respite from the attentions of the police, and went to his lunch. - - -IV - -After his lunch Mr. Colson called and called again at Bedford Mansions, -but neither Dorrington nor his telegram had been heard of. At something -near five o'clock, however, when he had made up his mind to wait, -restless as he was, Dorrington appeared, fresh and complacent. - -"Hope you haven't been waiting long?" he asked. "Fact is I got no -opportunity for lunch till after four, so I had it then. I think I'd -fairly earned it. The case is finished." - -"Finished? But there's Kanamaro to be arrested. I've found----" - -"No, no--I don't think anybody will be arrested at all; you'll read -about it in the evening papers in an hour, I expect. But come into the -rooms. I have some things to show you." - -"But I assure you," Mr. Colson said, as he entered the door of -Deacon's rooms, "I assure you that I got as good as a confession from -Kanamaro--he let it slip in ignorance of what I knew. Why do you say -that nobody is to be arrested?" - -"Because there's nobody alive who is responsible for Mr. Deacon's -death. But come--let me show you the whole thing; it's very simple." - -He led the way to the room where the body had been found, and paused -before the four-armed idol. "Here's our old friend Hachiman," he said, -"whom you half fancied might have had something to do with the tragedy. -Well, you were right. Hachiman had a good deal to do with it, and with -the various disasters at Copleston's too. I will show you how." - -The figure, which was larger than life-size, had been set up -temporarily on a large packing-case, hidden by a red cloth covering. -Hachiman was represented in the familiar Japanese kneeling-sitting -position, and the carving of the whole thing was of an intricate and -close description. The god was represented as clad in ancient armour, -with a large and loose cloak depending from his shoulders and falling -behind in a wilderness of marvellously and deeply carved folds. - -"See here," Dorrington said, placing his fingers under a projecting -part of the base of the figure, and motioning to Mr. Colson to do the -same. "Lift. Pretty heavy, eh?" - -The idol was, indeed, enormously heavy, and it must have required the -exertions of several strong men to place it where it was. "It seems -pretty solid, doesn't it?" Dorrington continued. "But look here." He -stepped to the back of the image, and, taking a prominent fold of the -cloak in one hand, with a quick pull and a simultaneous rap of the -other fist two feet above, a great piece of the carved drapery lifted -on a hinge near the shoulders, displaying a hollow interior. In a dark -corner within a small bottle and a fragment of rag were just visible. - -"See there," said Dorrington, "there wouldn't be enough room in there -for you or me, but a small man--a Japanese priest of the old time, -say--could squat pretty comfortably. And see!"--he pointed to a small -metal bolt at the bottom of the swing drapery--"he could bolt himself -safely in when he got there. Whether the priest went there to play the -oracle, or to blow fire out of Hachiman's mouth and nose I don't know, -though no doubt it might be an interesting subject for inquiry; perhaps -he did both. You observe the chamber is lined with metal, which does -something towards giving the thing its weight, and there are cunning -little openings among the armour-joints in front which would transmit -air and sound--even permit of a peep out. Now Mr. Deacon might or might -not have found out this back door after the figure had been a while in -his possession, but it is certain he knew nothing of it when he bought -it. Copleston knew nothing of it, though the thing has stood in his -place for months. You see it's not a thing one would notice at once--I -never should have done so if I hadn't been looking for it." He shut the -part, and the joints, of irregular outline, fell into the depths of the -folds, and vanished as if by magic. - -"Now," Dorrington went on, "as I told you, Copleston knew nothing of -this, but one of his men found it out. Do you happen to have heard of -one Samuel Castro, nicknamed 'Slackjaw,' a hunchback whom Copleston -employed on odd jobs?" - -"I have seen him here. He called, sometimes with messages, sometimes -with parcels. I should probably have forgotten all about him were -it not that he was rather an extraordinary creature, even among -Copleston's men, who are all remarkable. But did he----" - -[Illustration: "SLACKJAW."] - -"He murdered Mr. Deacon, I think," Dorrington replied, "as I fancy I -can explain to you. But he won't hang for it, for he was drowned this -afternoon before my eyes, in an attempt to escape from the police. He -was an extraordinary creature, as you have said. He wasn't English--a -half-caste of some sort I think--though his command of language, of the -riverside and dock description, was very free; it got him his nickname -of Slackjaw among the longshoremen. He was desperately excitable, and -he had most of the vices, though I don't think he premeditated murder -in this case--nothing but robbery. He was immensely strong, although -such a little fellow, and sharp in his wits, and he might have had -regular work at Copleston's if he had liked, but that wasn't his -game--he was too lazy. He would work long enough to earn a shilling -or so, and then he would go off to drink the money. So he was a -sort of odd on-and-off man at Copleston's--just to run a message or -carry something or what not when the regular men were busy. Well, he -seems to have been smart enough--or perhaps it was no more than an -accident--to find out about Hachiman's back, and he used his knowledge -for his own purposes. Copleston couldn't account for missing things in -the night--because he never guessed that Castro, by shutting himself -up in Hachiman about closing time, had the run of the place when -everybody had gone, and could pick up any trifle that looked suitable -for the pawnshop in the morning. He could sleep comfortably on sacks -or among straw, and thus save the rent of lodgings, and he could -accept Hachiman's shelter again just before Copleston turned up to -start the next day's business. Getting out, too, after the place was -opened, was quite easy, for nobody came to the large store-rooms till -something was wanted, and in a large place with many doors and gates, -like Copleston's, unperceived going and coming was easy to one who knew -the ropes. So that Slackjaw would creep quietly out, and in again by -the front door to ask for a job. Copleston noticed how regular he had -been every morning for the past few months, and thought he was getting -steadier! As to the things that got smashed, I expect Slackjaw knocked -them over, getting out in the dark. One china vase, in particular, -had been shifted at the last moment, probably after he was in his -hiding-place, and stood behind the image. That was smashed, of course. -And these things, coming after the bad voyage of the ship in which he -came over, very naturally gave poor Hachiman an unlucky reputation. - -"Probably Slackjaw was sorry at first when he heard that Hachiman -was bought. But then an idea struck him. He had been to Mr. Deacon's -rooms on errands, and must have seen that fine old plate in the -sitting-room. He had picked up unconsidered trifles at Copleston's -by aid of Hachiman--why not acquire something handsome at Deacon's -in the same way? The figure was to be carried to Bedford Mansions as -soon as work began on Wednesday morning. Very well. All he had to do -was to manage his customary sojourn at Copleston's over Tuesday night, -and keep to his hiding-place in the morning. He did it. Perhaps the -men swore a bit at the weight of Hachiman, but as the idol weighed -several hundredweights by itself, and had not been shifted since it -first arrived, they most likely perceived no difference. Hachiman, with -Slackjaw comfortably bolted inside him (though even _he_ must have -found the quarters narrow) jolted away in the waggon, and in course of -time was deposited where it now stands. - -"Of course all I have told you, and all I am about to tell you, is -no more than conjecture--but I think you will say I have reasons. -From within the idol Slackjaw could hear Mr. Deacon's movements, and -no doubt when he heard him take his hat and stick and shut the outer -door behind him, Hachiman's tenant was glad to get out. He had never -had so long and trying a sojourn in the idol before, though he _had_ -provided himself this time with something to keep his spirits up--in -that little flat bottle he left behind. Probably, however, he waited -some little time before emerging, for safety's sake. I judge this -because I found no signs of his having started work, except a single -small knife-mark on the plate case. He must have no more than begun -when Mr. Deacon came back for his letters. First, however, he went -and shut the bedroom window, lest his movements might be heard in -some adjacent rooms; the man who was painting said he heard that, you -remember. Well, hearing Mr. Deacon's key in the lock, of course he -made a rush for his hiding-place--but there was no time to get in and -close up before Mr. Deacon could hear the noise. Mr. Deacon, as he -entered, heard the footsteps in the next room, and went to see. The -result you know. Castro, perhaps, crouched behind the idol, and hearing -Mr. Deacon approaching, and knowing discovery inevitable, in his mad -fear and excitement, snatched the nearest weapon and struck wildly at -his pursuer. See! here are half a dozen heavy, short Japanese swords -at hand, any one of which might have been used. The thing done, Castro -had to think of escape. The door was impossible--the hall-porter was -already knocking there. But the man had no key--he could be heard -moving about and calling for one. There was yet a little time. He -wiped the blade of the weapon, put it back in its place, took the keys -from the dead man's pocket, and regained his concealment in the idol. -Whether or not he took the keys with the idea of again attempting theft -when the room was left empty I don't know--most likely he thought they -would aid him in escape. Anyway, he didn't attempt theft, but lay in -his concealment--and a pretty bad time he must have had of it--till -night. Probably his nerve was not good enough for anything more than -simple flight. When all was quiet, he left the rooms and shut the door -behind him. Then he lurked about corridors and basements till morning, -and when the doors were opened, slipped out unobserved. That's all. -It's pretty obvious, once you know about Hachiman's interior." - -"And how did you find out?" - -"When you left me here I considered the thing. I put aside all -suspicions of motive, the Japanese and his sword and the rest of it, -and addressed myself to the bare facts. Somebody _had_ been in these -rooms when Mr. Deacon came back, and that somebody had murdered him. -The first thing was to find how this person came, and where he came -from. At first, of course, one thought of the bedroom window, as the -police had done. But reflection proved this unlikely. Mr. Deacon had -entered his front door, was inside a few seconds, and then was murdered -close by the figure of Hachiman. Now if anybody had entered by the -window for purposes of robbery, his impulse on hearing the key in the -outer door (and such a thing could be heard all over the rooms, as I -tested for myself)--his impulse, I say, would be to retreat by the way -he had come, that is by the window. If, then, Mr. Deacon had overtaken -him before he could escape, the murder might have taken place just as -it had done, but it would have been _in the bedroom_, not in a room -in the opposite direction. And any thief's attention would naturally -be directed at first to the gold plate--indeed, I detected a fresh -knife-mark in the door of the case, which I will show you presently. -Now, as you see by the arrangement of the rooms, the retreat from the -plate case to the bedroom window would be a short one, whereas the -murderer must in fact have taken a longer journey in the opposite -direction. Why? Because he had _arrived_ from that direction, and his -natural impulse was to retreat by the way he had come. This might have -been by the door to the back stairs, but a careful examination of this -door and its lock and key convinced me that it had not been opened. -The key was dirty, and to have turned it from the opposite side would -have necessitated the forcible use of a pair of thin hollow pliers -(a familiar tool to burglars), and these must have left their mark -on the dirty key. So I turned back to the idol. _This_ was the spot -the intruder had made for in his retreat, and the figure had been -brought into the place the very morning of the murder. Also, things -had disappeared from its vicinity at Copleston's. More--it was a large -thing. What if it were hollow? One has heard of such things having been -invented by priests anxious for certain effects. Could not a thief -smuggle himself in that way? - -"The suggestion was a little startling, for if it were the right one -the man might be hiding there at that moment. I gave the thing half an -hour's examination, and in the end found what I have shown you. It was -not the sort of thing one would have found out without looking for it. -Look at it even now. Although you have seen it open, you couldn't point -to the joints." - -Dorrington opened it again. "Once open," he went on, "the thing -was pretty plain. Here is the rag--perhaps it was Castro's -pocket-handkerchief--used to wipe the weapon. It is stained all over, -and cut, as you will observe, by the sharp edge. Also, you may see -a crumb or two--Slackjaw had brought food with him, in case of a -long imprisonment. But chiefly observe the bottle. It is a flat, -high-shouldered, 'quartern' bottle, such as publicans sell or lend to -their customers in poor districts, and as usual it bears the publican's -name--J. Mills. It's a most extraordinary thing, but it seems the fate -of almost every murderer, no matter how cunning, to leave some such -damning piece of evidence about, foolish as it may seem afterward. -I've known it in a dozen cases. Probably Castro, in the dark and in -his excitement, forgot it when he quitted his hiding-place. At any -rate it helped me and made my course plain. Clearly this man, whoever -he was, had come from Copleston's. Moreover, he was a small man, for -the space he had occupied would be too little even for a man of middle -height. Also he bought drink of J. Mills, a publican; if J. Mills -carried on business near Copleston's so much the easier my task would -seem. Before I left, however, I went to the basement and inspected the -ladder, the removal of which had caused the police so much exercise. -Then it was plain why Dowden had cleared out. All his prevarication -and uneasiness were explained at once, as the police might have seen -if they had looked _behind_ the ladder as well as at it. For it had -been lying lengthwise against the wooden partition which formed the -back of the compartments put up to serve the tenants as wine-cellars. -Dowden had taken three planks out of this partition, and so arranged -that they could be slipped in their places and out again without -attracting attention. What he had been taking through the holes he thus -made I won't undertake to say, but I will make a small bet that some of -the tenants find their wine short presently! And so Dowden, never an -industrious person, and never at one job long, thought it best to go -away when he found the police asking why the ladder had been moved." - -"Yes, yes--it's very surprising, but no doubt you're right. Still, what -about Kanamaro and that sword?" - -"Tell me exactly what he said to you to-day." - -Mr. Colson detailed the conversation at length. - -Dorrington smiled. "See here," he said, "I have found out something -else in these rooms. What Kanamaro said he meant in another sense to -what you supposed. _I_ wondered a little about that sword, and made a -little search among some drawers in consequence. Look here. Do you see -this box standing out here on a nest of drawers? That is quite unlike -Mr. Deacon's orderly ways. The box contains a piece of lacquer, and -it had been shifted from its drawer to make room for a more precious -piece. See here." Dorrington pulled out a drawer just below where the -box stood, and took from it another white wood box. He opened this -box and removed a quantity of wadding. A rich brocade _fukusa_ was -then revealed, and, loosening the cord of this, Dorrington displayed a -Japanese writing-case, or _suzuribako_, aged and a little worn at the -corners, but all of lacquer of a beautiful violet hue. - -"What!" exclaimed Mr. Colson. "Violet lacquer!" - -"That is what it is," Dorrington answered, "and when I saw it I judged -at once that Deacon had at last consented to part with his Masamuné -blade in exchange for that even greater rarity, a fine piece of the -real old violet lacquer. I should imagine that Kanamaro brought it on -Tuesday evening--you will remember that you saw Mr. Deacon for the -last time alive in the afternoon of that day. Beard seems not to have -noticed him, but in the evening hall-porters are apt to be at supper, -you know--perhaps even taking a nap now and then!" - -"Then _this_ is how Kanamaro 'finished his business'!" Mr. Colson -observed. "And the 'very great cost' was probably what he had to pay -for this." - -"I suppose so. And he would not have believed it possible that he -_could_ get a piece of violet lacquer in any circumstances." - -"But," Mr. Colson objected, "I still don't understand his indifference -and lack of surprise when I told him of poor Deacon's death." - -"I think that is very natural in such a man as Keigo Kanamaro. I -don't profess to know a very great deal about Japan, but I know that -a _samurai_ of the old school was trained from infancy to look on -death, whether his own or another's, with absolute indifference. They -regarded it as a mere circumstance. Consider how cold-bloodedly their -_hari-kiri_, their legalised suicide, was carried out!" - -As they left the rooms and made for the street Mr. Colson said, "But -now I know nothing of your pursuit of Castro." - -Dorrington shrugged his shoulders. "There is little to say," he said. -"I went to Copleston and asked him if any one of his men was missing -all day on Wednesday. None of his regular men were, it seemed, but he -had seen nothing that day of an odd man named Castro, or Slackjaw, -although he had been very regular for some time before; and, indeed, -Castro had not yet turned up. I asked if Castro was a tall man. No, -he was a little fellow and a hunchback, Copleston told me. I asked -what public-house one might find him at, and Copleston mentioned -the 'Blue Anchor'--kept, as I had previously ascertained from the -directory, by J. Mills. That was enough. With everything standing as it -was, a few minutes' talk with the inspector in charge at the nearest -police-station was all that was necessary. Two men were sent to make -the arrest, and the people at the 'Blue Anchor' directed us to Martin's -Wharf, where we found Castro. He had been drinking, but he knew enough -to make a bolt the moment he saw the policemen coming on the wharf. -He dropped on to a dummy barge and made off from one barge to another -in what seemed an aimless direction, though he may have meant to get -away at the stairs a little lower down the river. But he never got as -far. He muddled one jump and fell between the barges. You know what a -suck under there is when a man falls among barges like that. A strong -swimmer with all his senses has only an off chance, and a man with bad -whisky in his head--well, I left them dragging for Slackjaw when I came -away." - -As they turned the corner of the street they met a newsboy running. -"Paper--speshal!" he cried. "The West-End murder--speshal! Suicide of -the murderer!" - -Dorrington's conjecture that Kanamaro had called to make his exchange -on Tuesday evening proved correct. Mr. Colson saw him once more on the -day of his departure, and told him the whole story. And then Keigo -Kanamaro sailed for Japan to lay the sword in his father's tomb. - - - - -_OLD CATER'S MONEY_ - - - - -VI - -Old Cater's Money - - -I - -The firm of Dorrington & Hicks had not been constructed at the time -when this case came to Dorrington's hand. Dorrington had barely emerged -from the obscurity that veils his life before some ten years ago, -and he was at this time a needier adventurer than he had been at the -period of any other of the cases I have related. Indeed, his illicit -gains on this occasion would seem first to have set him on his feet -and enabled him first to cut a fair exterior figure. Whether or not -he had developed to the full the scoundrelism that first brought me -acquainted with his trade I do not know; but certain it is that he was -involved at the time in transactions wretchedly ill paid, on behalf -of one Flint, a shipstores dealer at Deptford; an employer whose -record was never a very clean one. This Flint was one of an unpleasant -family. He was nephew to old Cater the wharfinger (and private usurer) -and cousin to another Cater, whose name was Paul, and who was also a -usurer, though he variously described himself as a "commission agent" -or "general dealer." Indeed, he was a general dealer, if the term may -be held to include a dealer in whatever would bring him gain, and -who made no great punctilio in regard to the honesty or otherwise -of his transactions. In fact, all three of these pleasant relatives -had records of the shadiest, and all three did whatever in the way -of money-lending, mortgaging, and blood-sucking came in their way. -It is, however, with old Cater--Jerry Cater, he was called--that -this narrative is in the first place concerned. I got the story from -a certain Mr. Sinclair, who for many years acted as his clerk and -debt-collector. - -Old Jerry Cater lived in the crooked and decaying old house over his -wharf by Bermondsey Wall, where his father had lived before him. It -was a grim and strange old house, with long-shut loft-doors in upper -floors, and hinged flaps in sundry rooms that, when lifted, gave -startling glimpses of muddy water washing among rotten piles below. Not -once in six months now did a barge land its load at Cater's Wharf, and -no coasting brig ever lay alongside. For, in fact, the day of Cater's -Wharf was long past; and it seemed indeed that few more days were left -for old Jerry Cater himself. For seventy-eight years old Jerry Cater -had led a life useless to himself and to everybody else, though his -own belief was that he had profited considerably. Truly if one counted -nothing but the money the old miser had accumulated, then his profit -was large indeed; but it had brought nothing worth having, neither for -himself nor for others, and he had no wife nor child who might use -it more wisely when he should at last leave it behind him; no other -relative indeed than his two nephews, each in spirit a fair copy of -himself, though in body a quarter of a century younger. Seventy-eight -years of every mean and sordid vice and of every virtue that had -pecuniary gain for its sole object left Jerry Cater stranded at last -in his cheap iron bedstead with its insufficient coverings, with not -a sincere friend in the world to sit five minutes by his side. Down -below, Sinclair, his unhappy clerk, had the accommodation of a wooden -table and a chair; and the clerk's wife performed what meagre cooking -and cleaning service old Cater would have. Sinclair was a man of -forty-five, rusty, starved, honest, and very cheap. He was very cheap -because it had been his foolishness, twenty years ago, when in City -employ, to borrow forty pounds of old Cater to get married with, and to -buy furniture, together with forty pounds he had of his own. Sinclair -was young then, and knew nothing of the ways of the two hundred per -cent. money-lender. When he had, by three or four years' pinching, paid -about a hundred and fifty pounds on account of interest and fines, and -only had another hundred or two still due to clear everything off, he -fell sick and lost his place. The payment of interest ceased, and old -Jerry Cater took his victim's body, soul, wife, sticks, and chairs -together. Jerry Cater discharged his own clerk, and took Sinclair, with -a saving of five shillings a week on the nominal salary, and out of the -remainder he deducted, on account of the debt and ever-accumulating -interest, enough to keep his man thin and broken-spirited, without -absolutely incapacitating him from work, which would have been bad -finance. But the rest of the debt, capital and interest, was made into -a capital debt, with usury on the whole. So that for sixteen years or -more Sinclair had been paying something every week off the eternally -increasing sum, and might have kept on for sixteen centuries at the -same rate without getting much nearer freedom. If only there had been -one more room in the house old Cater might have compulsorily lodged -his clerk, and have deducted something more for rent. As it was he -might have used the office for the purpose, but he could never have -brought himself to charge a small rent for it, and a large one would -have swallowed most of the rest of Sinclair's salary, thus bringing -him below starvation point, and impairing his working capacity. But -Mrs. Sinclair, now gaunt and scraggy, did all the housework, so that -that came very cheap. Most of the house was filled with old bales and -rotting merchandise which old Jerry Cater had seized in payment for -wharfage dues and other debts, and had held to, because his ideas of -selling prices were large, though his notion of buying prices were -small. Sinclair was out of doors more than in, dunning and threatening -debtors as hopeless as himself. And the household was completed by one -Samuel Greer, a squinting man of grease and rags, within ten years of -the age of old Jerry Cater himself. Greer was wharf-hand, messenger, -and personal attendant on his employer, and, with less opportunity, was -thought to be near as bad a scoundrel as Cater. He lived and slept in -the house, and was popularly supposed to be paid nothing at all; though -his patronage of the "Ship and Anchor," hard by, was as frequent as -might be. - -Old Jerry Cater was plainly not long for this world. Ailing for months, -he at length gave in and took to his bed. Greer watched him anxiously -and greedily, for it was his design, when his master went at last, -to get what he could for himself. More than once during his illness -old Cater had sent Greer to fetch his nephews. Greer had departed on -these errands, but never got farther than the next street. He hung -about a reasonable time--perhaps in the "Ship and Anchor," if funds -permitted--and then returned to say that the nephews could not come -just yet. Old Cater had quarrelled with his nephews, as he had with -everybody else, some time before, and Greer was resolved, if he could, -to prevent any meeting now, for that would mean that the nephews would -take possession of the place, and he would lose his chance of -convenient larceny when the end came. So it was that neither nephew -knew of old Jerry Cater's shaky condition. - -[Illustration: "HE SAW A FEW DOUBLED PAPERS."] - -Before long, finding that the old miser could not leave his bed--indeed -he could scarcely turn in it--Greer took courage, in Sinclair's -absence, to poke about the place in search of concealed sovereigns. He -had no great time for this, because Jerry Cater seemed to have taken a -great desire for his company, whether for the sake of his attendance -or to keep him out of mischief was not clear. At any rate Greer found -no concealed sovereigns, nor anything better than might be sold for -a few pence at the ragshop. Until one day, when old Cater was taking -alternate fits of restlessness and sleep, Greer ventured to take down -a dusty old pickle-jar from the top shelf in the cupboard of his -master's bedroom. Cater was dozing at the moment, and Greer, tilting -the jar toward the light, saw within a few doubled papers, very dusty. -He snatched the papers out, stuffed them into his pocket, replaced the -jar, and closed the cupboard door hastily. The door made some little -noise, and old Cater turned and woke, and presently he made a shift -to sit up in bed, while Greer scratched his head as innocently as he -could, and directed his divergent eyes to parts of the room as distant -from the cupboard as possible. - -"Sam'l Greer," said old Cater in a feeble voice, while his lower jaw -waggled and twitched, "Sam'l Greer, I think I'll 'ave some beef-tea." -He groped tremulously under his pillow, turning his back to Greer, -who tip-toed and glared variously over his master's shoulders. He saw -nothing, however, though he heard the chink of money. Old Cater turned, -with a shilling in his shaking hand. "Git 'alf a pound o' shin o' -beef," he said, "an' go to Green's for it at the other end o' Grange -Road, d'ye hear? It's--it's a penny a pound cheaper there than it is -anywhere nearer, and--and I ain't in so much of a 'urry for it, so the -distance don't matter. Go 'long." And old Jerry Cater subsided in a fit -of coughing. - -Greer needed no second bidding. He was anxious to take a peep at the -papers he had secreted. Sinclair was out collecting, or trying to -collect, but Greer did not stop to examine his prize before he had -banged the street door behind him, lest Cater, listening above, should -wonder what detained him. But in a convenient courtyard a hundred -yards away he drew out the papers and inspected them eagerly. First, -there was the policy of insurance of the house and premises. Then -there was a bundle of receipts for the yearly insurance premiums. And -then--there was old Jerry Cater's will. - -There were two foolscap sheets, written all in Jerry Cater's own -straggling handwriting. Greer hastily scanned the sheets, and his -dirty face grew longer and his squint intensified as he turned over -the second sheet, found nothing behind it, and stuffed the papers -back in his pocket. For it was plain that not a penny of old Jerry -Cater's money was for his faithful servant, Samuel Greer. "Ungrateful -ole waga-bone!" mused the faithful servant as he went his way. "Not -a blessed 'a'peny; not a 'a'peny! An' them as don't want it gets it, -o' course. That's always the way--it's like a-greasing' of a fat -pig. I shall 'ave to get what I can while I can, that's all." And so -ruminating he pursued his way to the butcher's in Grange Road. - -Once more on his way there, and twice on his way back, Samuel Greer -stepped into retired places to look at those papers again, and at each -inspection he grew more thoughtful. There might be money in it yet. -Come, he must think it over. - -The front door being shut, and Sinclair probably not yet returned, he -entered the house by a way familiar to the inmates--a latched door -giving on to the wharf. The clock told him that he had been gone nearly -an hour, but Sinclair was still absent. When he entered old Cater's -room upstairs he found a great change. The old man lay in a state of -collapse, choking with a cough that exhausted him; and for this there -seemed little wonder, for the window was open, and the room was full of -the cold air from the river. - -"Wot jer bin openin' the winder for?" asked Greer in astonishment. -"It's enough to give ye yer death." He shut it and returned to the -bedside. But though he offered his master the change from the shilling -the old man seemed not to see it nor to hear his voice. - -"Well, if you won't--don't," observed Greer with some alacrity, -pocketing the coppers. "But I'll bet he'll remember right enough -presently." "D'y'ear," he added, bending over the bed, "I've got the -beef. Shall I bile it now?" - -But old Jerry Cater's eyes still saw nothing and he heard not, though -his shrunken chest and shoulders heaved with the last shudders of the -cough that had exhausted him. So Greer stepped lightly to the cupboard -and restored the fire policy and the receipts to the pickle-jar. He -kept the will. - -Greer made preparations for cooking the beef, and as he did so he -encountered another phenomenon. "Well, he have bin a goin' of it!" said -Greer. "Blow me if he ain't bin readin' the Bible now!" - -A large, ancient, worn old Bible, in a rough calf-skin cover, lay on a -chair by old Cater's hand. It had probably been the family Bible of the -Caters for generations back, for certainly old Jerry Cater would never -have bought such a thing. For many years it had accumulated dust on a -distant shelf among certain out-of-date account-books, but Greer had -never heard of its being noticed before. "Feels he goin', that's about -it," Greer mused as he pitched the Bible back on the shelf to make room -for his utensils. "But I shouldn't ha' thought 'e'd take it sentimental -like that--readin' the Bible an' lettin' in the free air of 'eaven to -make 'im cough 'isself blind." - -The beef-tea was set simmering, and still old Cater lay impotent. -The fit of prostration was longer than any that had preceded it, and -presently Greer thought it might be well to call the doctor. Call him -he did accordingly (the surgery was hard by), and the doctor came. -Jerry Cater revived a little, sufficiently to recognise the doctor, but -it was his last effort. He lived another hour and a half. Greer kept -the change and had the beef-tea as well. The doctor gave his opinion -that the old man had risen in delirium and had expended his last -strength in moving about the room and opening the window. - - -II - -Samuel Greer found somewhere near two pounds in silver in the small -canvas bag under the dead man's pillow. No more money, however, -rewarded his hasty search about the bedroom, and when Sinclair returned -Greer set off to carry the news to Paul Cater, the dead man's nephew. - -The respectable Greer had considered well the matter of the will, -and saw his way, he fancied, at least to a few pounds by way -of compensation for his loss of employment and the ungrateful -forgetfulness of his late employer. The two sheets comprised, in fact, -not a simple will merely, but a will and a codicil, each on one of the -sheets, the codicil being a year or two more recent than the will. -Nobody apparently knew anything of these papers, and it struck Greer -that it was now in his power to prevent anybody learning, unless an -interested party were disposed to pay for the disclosure. That was -why he now took his way toward the establishment of Paul Cater, for -the will made Paul Cater not only sole executor, but practically sole -legatee. Wherefore Greer carefully separated the will from the codicil, -intending the will alone for sale to Paul Cater. Because, indeed, the -codicil very considerably modified it, and might form the subject of -independent commerce. - -Paul Cater made a less miserly show than had been the wont of his -uncle. His house was in a street in Pimlico, the ground-floor front -room of which was made into an office, with a wire blind carrying his -name in gilt letters. Perhaps it was that Paul Cater carried his -covetousness to a greater refinement than his uncle had done, seeing -that a decent appearance is a commercial advantage by itself, bringing -a greater profit than miserly habits could save. - -The man of general dealings was balancing his books when Greer arrived, -but at the announcement of his uncle's death he dropped everything. He -was not noticeably stricken with grief, unless a sudden seizure of his -hat and a roaring aloud for a cab might be considered as indications -of affliction; for in truth Paul Cater knew well that it was a case in -which much might depend on being first at Bermondsey Wall. The worthy -Greer had scarce got the news out before he found himself standing in -the street while Cater was giving directions to a cabman. "Here--you -come in too," said Cater, and Greer was bustled into the cab. - -It was plainly a situation in which half-crowns should not be too -reluctantly parted with. So Paul Cater produced one and presented it. -Cater was a strong-faced man of fifty odd, with a tight-drawn mouth -that proclaimed everywhere a tight fist; so that the unaccustomed -passing over of a tip was a noticeably awkward and unspontaneous -performance, and Greer pocketed the money with little more -acknowledgment than a growl. - -"Do you know where he put the will?" asked Paul Cater with a keen -glance. - -"Will?" answered Greer, looking him blankly in the face--the gaze of -one eye passing over Cater's shoulder and that of the other seeming to -seek his boots. "Will? P'raps 'e never made one." - -"Didn't he?" - -"That 'ud mean, lawfully, as the property would come to you an' Mr. -Flint--'arves. Bein' all personal property. So I'd think." And Greer's -composite gaze blankly persisted. - -"But how do you know whether he made a will or not?" - -"'Ow do I know? Ah, well, p'raps I dunno. It's only fancy like. I -jist put it to you--that's all. It 'ud be divided atween the two of -you." Then, after a long pause, he added: "But lor! it 'ud be a pretty -fine thing for you if he did leave a will, and willed it all to you, -wouldn't it? Mighty fine thing! An' it 'ud be a mighty fine thing for -Mr. Flint if there was a will leaving it all to him, wouldn't it? -Pretty fine thing!" - -Cater said nothing, but watched Greer's face sharply. Greer's face, -with its greasy features and its irresponsible squint, was as -expressive as a brick. They travelled some distance in silence. Then -Greer said musingly, "Ah, a will like that 'ud be a mighty fine thing! -What 'ud you be disposed to give for it now?" - -"Give for it? What do you mean? If there's a will there's an end to it. -Why should I give anything for it?" - -"Jist so--jist so," replied Greer, with a complacent wave of the hand. -"Why should you? No reason at all, unless you couldn't find it without -givin' something." - -"See here, now," said Cater sharply, "let us understand this. Do you -mean that there is a will, and you know that it is hidden, and where it -is?" - -Greer's squint remained impenetrable. "Hidden? Lor!--'ow should I know -if it was hidden? I was a-puttin' of a case to you." - -"Because," Cater went on, disregarding the reply, "if that's the case, -the sooner you out with the information the better it'll be for you. -Because there are ways of making people give up information of that -sort for nothing." - -"Yes--o' course," replied the imperturbable Greer. "O' course there is. -An' quite right too. Ah, it's a fine thing is the lawr--a mighty fine -thing!" - -The cab rattled over the stones of Bermondsey Wall, and the two -alighted at the door through which old Jerry Cater was soon to come -feet first. Sinclair was back, much disturbed and anxious. At sight of -Paul Cater the poor fellow, weak and broken-spirited, left the house as -quietly as he might. For years of grinding habit had inured him to the -belief that in reality old Cater had treated him rather well, and now -he feared the probable action of the heirs. - -"Who was that?" asked Paul Cater of Greer. "Wasn't it the clerk that -owed my uncle the money?" - -Greer nodded. - -"Then he's not to come here again--do you hear? I'll take charge of the -books and things. As to the debt--well, I'll see about that after. And -now look here." Paul Cater stood before Greer and spoke with decision. -"About that will, now. Bring it." - -Greer was not to be bluffed. "Where from?" he asked innocently. - -"Will you stand there and tell me you don't know where it is?" - -"Maybe I'd best stand here and tell you what pays me best." - -"Pay you? How much more do you want? Bring me that will, or I'll have -you in gaol for stealing it!" - -"Lor!" answered Greer composedly, conscious of holding another trump -as well as the will. "Why, if there _was_ anybody as knowed where the -will was, and you talked to him as violent as that 'ere, why, you'd -frighten him so much he'd as likely as not go out and get a price from -your cousin, Mr. Flint. Whatever was in the will it might pay him to -get hold of it." - -At this moment there came a furious knocking at the front door. "Why," -Greer continued, "I bet that's him. It can't be nobody else--I bet the -doctor's told him, or summat." - -They were on the first-floor landing, and Greer peeped from a -broken-shuttered window that looked on the street. "Yes," he said, -"that's Mr. Flint sure enough. Now, Mr. Paul Cater, business. Do you -want to see that will before I let Mr. Flint in?" - -"Yes!" exclaimed Cater furiously, catching at his arm. "Quick--where is -it?" - -"I want twenty pound." - -"Twenty pound! You're mad! What for?" - -"All right, if I'm mad, I'll go an' let Mr. Flint in." - -The knocking was repeated, louder and longer. - -"No," cried Cater, getting in his way. "You know you mustn't conceal a -will--that's law. Give it up." - -"What's the law that says I must give it up to you, 'stead of yer -cousin? _If_ there's a will it may say anythin'--in yer favour or out -of it. If there ain't, you'll git 'alf. The will might give you more, -or it might give you less, or it might give you nothink. Twenty pound -for first look at it 'fore Flint comes in, and do what you like with it -'fore he knows anythink about it." - -Again the knocking came at the door, this time supplemented by kicks. - -"But I don't carry twenty pound about with me!" protested Cater, waving -his fists. "Give me the will and come to my office for the money -to-morrow!" - -"No tick for this sort of job," answered Greer decisively. "Sorry I -can't oblige you--I'm goin' down to the front door." And he made as -though to go. - -"Well, look here!" said Cater desperately, pulling out his pocket-book. -"I've got a note or two, I think----" - -"'Ow much?" asked Greer, calmly laying hold of the pocket-book. "Two at -least. Two fivers. Well, I'll let it go at that. Give us hold." He took -the notes, and pulled out the will from his pocket. Flint, outside, -battered the door once more. - -"Why," exclaimed Cater as he glanced over the sheet, "I'm sole executor -and I get the lot! Who are these witnesses?" - -"Oh, they're all right. Longshore hands just hereabout. You'll get 'em -any day at the 'Ship and Anchor.'" - -Cater put the will in his breast-pocket. "You'd best get out o' this, -my man," he said. "You've had me for ten pound, and the further you get -from me the safer you'll be." - -"What?" said Greer with a chuckle. "Not even grateful! Shockin'!" He -took his way downstairs, and Cater followed. At the door Flint, a -counterpart of Cater, except that his dress was more slovenly, stood -ragefully. - -"Ah, cousin," said Cater, standing on the threshold and preventing his -entrance, "this is a very sad loss!" - -"Sad loss!" Flint replied with disgust. "A lot you think of the -loss--as much as I do, I reckon. I want to come in." - -"Then you sha'n't!" Cater replied, with a prompt change of manner. -"You shan't! I'm sole executor, and I've got the will in my pocket." -He pulled it out sufficiently far to show the end of the paper, and -then returned it. "As executor I'm in charge of the property, and -responsible. It's vested in me till the will's put into effect. That's -law. And it's a bad thing for anybody to interfere with an executor. -That's law too." - -Flint was angry, but cautious. "Well," he said, "you're uncommon high, -with your will and your executor's law and your 'sad loss,' I must say. -What's your game?" - -For answer Cater began to shut the door. - -"Just you look out!" cried Flint. "You haven't heard the last of this! -You may be executor or it may be a lie. You may have the will or you -may not; anyway I know better than to run the risk of putting myself -in the wrong now. But I'll watch you, and I'll watch this house, and -I'll be about when the will comes to be proved! And if that ain't done -quick, I'll apply for administration myself, and see the thing through!" - - -III - -Samuel Greer sheered off as the cousinly interview ended, well -satisfied with himself. Ten pounds was a fortune to him, and he meant -having a good deal more. He did nothing further till the following -morning, when he presented himself at the shop of Jarvis Flint. - -"Good mornin', Mr. Flint," said Samuel Greer, grinning and squinting -affably. "I couldn't help noticin' as you had a few words yesterday -with Mr. Cater after the sad loss." - -"Well?" - -"It 'appens as I've seen the will as Mr. Cater was talkin' of, an' I -thought p'raps it 'ud save you makin' mistakes if I told you of it." - -"What about it?" Jarvis Flint was not disposed to accept Greer -altogether on trust. - -"Well it _do_ seem a scandalous thing, certainly, but what Mr. Cater -said was right. He _do_ take the personal property, subjick to debts, -an' he do take the freehold prim'ses. An' he is the 'xecutor." - -"Was the will witnessed?" - -"Yes--two waterside chaps well know'd there-abouts." - -"Was it made by a lawyer?" - -"No--all in the lamented corpse's 'andwritin'." - -"Umph!" Flint maintained his hard stare in Greer's face. "Anything -else?" - -"Well, no, Mr. Flint, sir, p'raps not. But I wonder if there might be -sich a thing as a codicil?" - -"Is there?" - -"Oh, I was a-wonderin', that's all. It might make a deal o' difference -in the will, mightn't it? And p'raps Mr. Cater mightn't know anythink -about the codicil." - -"What do you mean? Is there a codicil?" - -"Well, reely, Mr. Flint," answered Greer with a deprecatory -grin--"reely it ain't business to give information for nothink, is it?" - -"Business or not, if you know anything you'll find you'll have to tell -it. I'm not going to let Cater have it all his own way, if he _is_ -executor. My lawyer'll be on the job before you're a day older, my -man, and you won't find it pay to keep things too quiet." - -"But it can't pay worse than to give information for nothink," -persisted Greer. "Come, now, Mr. Flint, s'pose (I don't say there is, -mind--I only say _s'pose_)--s'pose there _was_ a codicil, and s'pose -that codicil meant a matter of a few thousand pound in your pocket. -And s'pose some person could tell you where to put your hand on that -codicil, what might you be disposed to pay that person?" - -"Bring me the codicil," answered Flint, "and if it's all right I'll -give you--well, say five shillings." - -Greer grinned again and shook his head. "No, reely, Mr. Flint," he -said, "we can't do business on terms like them. Fifty pound down in my -hand now, and it's done. Fifty 'ud be dirt cheap. And the longer you -are a-considerin'--well, you know, Mr. Cater might get hold of it, and -then, why, s'pose it got burnt and never 'eard of agen?" - -Flint glared with round eyes. "You get out!" he said. "Go on! Fifty -pound, indeed! Fifty pound, without my knowing whether you're telling -lies or not! Out you go! I know what to do now, my man!" - -Greer grinned once more, and slouched out. He had not expected to -bring Flint to terms at once. Of course the man would drive him away -at first, and, having got scent of the existence of the codicil, -and supposing it to be somewhere concealed about the old house at -Bermondsey Wall, he would set his lawyer to warn his cousin that the -thing was known, and that he, as executor, would be held responsible -for it. But the trump card, the codicil itself, was carefully stowed in -the lining of Greer's hat, and Cater knew nothing about it. Presently -Flint, finding Cater obdurate, would approach the wily Greer again, and -then he could be squeezed. Meanwhile the hat-lining was as safe a place -as any in which to keep the paper. Perhaps Flint might take a fancy to -have him waylaid at night and searched, in which case a pocket would be -an unsafe repository. - -Flint, on his part, was in good spirits. Plainly there _was_ a codicil, -favourable to himself. Certainly he meant neither to pay Greer for -discovering it--at any rate no such sum as fifty pounds--nor to abate a -jot of his rights. Flint had a running contract with a shady solicitor, -named Lugg, in accordance with which Lugg received a yearly payment -and transacted all his legal business--consisting chiefly of writing -threatening letters to unfortunate debtors. Also, as I think I have -mentioned, Dorrington was working for him at the time, and working at -very cheap rates. Flint resolved, to begin with, to set Dorrington -and Lugg to work. But first Dorrington--who, as a matter of fact, was -in Flint's back office during the interview with Greer. Thus it was -that in an hour or two Dorrington found himself in active pursuit of -Samuel Greer, with instructions to watch him closely, to make him drunk -if possible, and to get at his knowledge of the codicil by any means -conceivable. - - -IV - -On the morning of the day after his talk with Flint, Samuel Greer -ruminated doubtfully on the advisability of calling on the ship-store -dealer again, or waiting in dignified silence till Flint should -approach him. As he ruminated he rubbed his chin, and so rubbing it -found it very stubbly. He resolved on the luxury of a penny shave, -and, as he walked the street, kept his eyes open for a shop where the -operation was performed at that price. Mr. Flint, at any rate, could -wait till his chin was smooth. Presently, in a turning by Abbey Street, -Bermondsey, he came on just such a barber's shop as he wanted. Within, -two men were being shaved already, and another waiting; and Greer felt -himself especially fortunate in that three more followed at his heels. -He was ahead of their turns, anyhow. So he waited patiently. - -[Illustration: "HIS WALK WAS UNSTEADY."] - -The man whose turn was immediately before his own did not appear to be -altogether sober. A hiccough shook him from time to time; he grinned -with a dull glance at a comic paper held upside down in his hand, and -when he went to take his turn at a chair his walk was unsteady. The -barber had to use his skill to avoid cutting him, and he opened his -mouth to make remarks at awkward times. Then Greer's turn came at the -other chair, and when his shave was half completed he saw the unsteady -customer rise, pay his penny, and go out. - -"Beginnin' early in the mornin'!" observed one customer. - -The barber laughed. "Yes," he said. "He wants to get a proper bust on -before he goes to bed, I s'pose." - -Samuel Greer's chin being smooth at last, he rose and turned to where -he had hung his hat. His jaw dropped, and his eyes almost sprang out to -meet each other as he saw--a bare peg! The unsteady customer had walked -off with the wrong hat--his hat, and--the paper concealed inside! - -"Lor!" cried the dismayed Greer, "he's took my hat!" - -All the shopful of men set up a guffaw at this. "Take 'is then," said -one. "It's a blame sight better one than yourn!" - -But Greer, without a hat, rushed into the street, and the barber, -without his penny, rushed after him. "Stop 'im!" shouted Greer -distractedly. "Stop thief!" - -Thus it was that Dorrington, at this time of a far less well-groomed -appearance than was his later wont, watching outside the barber's, -observed the mad bursting forth of Greer, followed by the barber. After -the barber came the customers, one grinning furiously beneath a coating -of lather. - -"Stop 'im!" cried Greer. "'E's got my 'at! Stop 'im!" - -"You pay me my money," said the barber, catching his arm. "Never mind -yer 'at--you can 'ave 'is. But just you pay me first." - -"Leave go! You're responsible for lettin' 'im take it, I tell you! It's -a special 'at--valuable; leave go!" - -Dorrington stayed to hear no more. Three minutes before he had observed -a slightly elevated navvy emerge from the shop and walk solemnly -across the street under a hat manifestly a size or two too small for -him. Now Dorrington darted down the turning which the man had taken. -The hat was a wretched thing, and there must be some special reason -for Greer's wild anxiety to recover it, especially as the navvy must -have left another, probably better, behind him. Already Dorrington had -conjectured that Greer was carrying the codicil about with him, for he -had no place else to hide it, and he would scarcely have offered so -confidently to negotiate over it if it had been in the Bermondsey Wall -house, well in reach of Paul Cater. So he followed the elevated navvy -with all haste. He might never have seen him again were it not that the -unconscious bearer of the fortunes of Flint (and, indeed, Dorrington) -hesitated for a little while whether or not to enter the door of a -public-house near St. Saviour's Dock. In the end he decided to go on, -and it was just as he had started that Dorrington sighted him again. - -The navvy walked slowly and gravely on, now and again with a swerve -to the wall or the curb, but generally with a careful and laboured -directness. Presently he arrived at a dock-bridge, with a low iron -rail. An incoming barge attracted his eye, and he stopped and solemnly -inspected it. He leaned on the low rail for this purpose, and as he did -so the hat, all too small, fell off. Had he been standing two yards -nearer the centre of the bridge it would have dropped into the water. -As it was it fell on the quay, a few feet from the edge, and a dockman, -coming toward the steps by the bridge-side, picked it up and brought it -with him. - -"Here y'are, mate," said the dockman, offering the hat. - -The navvy took it in lofty silence, and inspected it narrowly. Then he -said, "'Ere--wot's this? This ain't my 'at!" And he glared suspiciously -at the dockman. - -"Ain't it?" answered the dockman carelessly. - -"Aw right then, keep it for the bloke it b'longs to. I don't want it." - -"No," returned the navvy with rising indignation, "but I want mine, -though! Wotcher done with it? Eh? It ain't a rotten old 'un like this -'ere. None o' yer 'alf-larks. Jist you 'and it over, come on!" - -"'And wot over?" asked the dockman, growing indignant in his turn. "You -drops yer 'at over the bridge like some kid as can't take care of it, -and I brings it up for ye. 'Stead o' sayin' thank ye, 'like a man, y' -asks me for another 'at! Go an' bile yer face!" And he turned on his -heel. - -"No, ye don't!" bawled the navvy, dropping the battered hat and making -a complicated rush at the other's retreating form. "Not much! You gimme -my 'at!" And he grabbed the dockman anywhere, with both hands. - -[Illustration: "A MINGLED BUNCH OF DOCKMAN AND NAVVY WAS FLOUNDERING -ABOUT THE STREET."] - -The dockman was as big as the navvy, and no more patient. He -immediately punched his assailant's nose; and in three seconds a -mingled bunch of dockman and navvy was floundering about the street. -Dorrington saw no more. He had the despised hat in his hand, and, -general attention being directed to the action in progress, he hurried -quietly up the nearest court. - - -V - -Samuel Greer, having got clear of the barber by paying his penny, was -in much perplexity, and this notwithstanding his acquisition of the -navvy's hat, a very decent bowler, which covered his head generously -and rested on his ears. What should be the move now? His hat was clean -gone, and the codicil with it. To find it again would be a hopeless -task, unless by chance the navvy should discover his mistake and return -to the barber's to make a rectification of hats. So Samuel Greer -returned once more to the barber's, and for the rest of the day called -again and again fruitlessly. At first the barber was vastly amused, and -told the story to his customers, who laughed. Then the barber got angry -at the continual worrying, and at the close of the day's barbering he -earned his night's repose by pitching Samuel Greer neck and crop into -the gutter. Samuel Greer gathered himself up disconsolately, surrounded -his head with the navvy's hat, and shuffled off to the "Ship and -Anchor." - -At the "Ship and Anchor" he found one Barker, a decayed and sodden -lawyer's clerk out of work. Greer's temporary affluence enabling -him to stand drinks, he was presently able, by putting artfully -hypothetical cases, to extract certain legal information from Barker. -Chiefly he learned that if a will or a codicil were missing, it might -nevertheless be possible to obtain probate of it by satisfying the -court with evidence of its contents and its genuineness. Here, at any -rate, was a certain hope. He alone, apparently, of all persons, knew -the contents of the codicil and the names of the witnesses; and since -it was impossible to sell the codicil, now that it was gone, he might -at least sell his evidence. He resolved to offer his evidence for sale -to Flint at once, and take what he could get. There must be no delay, -for possibly the navvy might find the paper in the hat and carry it to -Flint, seeing that his name was beneficially mentioned in it, and his -address given. Plainly the hat would not go back to the barber's now. -If the drunken navvy had found out his mistake he probably had not the -least notion where he had been nor where the hat had come from, else he -would have returned it during the day, and recovered his own superior -property. So Samuel Greer went at once, late as it was, and knocked up -Mr. Flint. - -Flint congratulated himself, feeling sure that Greer had thought better -of his business and had come to give his information for anything he -could get. Greer, on his part, was careful to conceal the fact that the -codicil had been in his possession and had been lost. All he said was -that he had seen the codicil, that its date was nine months later than -that of the will, and that it benefited Jarvis Flint to the extent of -some ten thousand pounds; leaving Flint to suppose, if he pleased, that -Cater, the executor, had the codicil, but would probably suppress it. -Indeed this was the conclusion that Flint immediately jumped at. - -And the result of the interview was this: Flint, with much grudging and -reluctance, handed over as a preliminary fee the sum of one pound, the -most he could be screwed up to. Then it was settled that Greer should -come on the morrow and consult with Flint and his solicitor Lugg, the -object of the consultation being the construction of a consistent tale -and a satisfactory _soi-disant_ copy of the codicil, which Greer was -to swear to, if necessary, and armed with which Paul Cater might be -confronted and brought to terms. - -It may be wondered why, ere this, Flint had not received the genuine -codicil itself, recovered by Dorrington from Greer's hat. The fact was -that Dorrington, as was his wont, was playing a little game of his own. -Having possessed himself of the codicil, he was now in a position to -make the most from both sides, and in a far more efficient manner than -the clumsy Greer. People of Jarvis Flint's sordid character are apt, -with all their sordid keenness, to be wonderfully short-sighted in -regard to what might seem fairly obvious to a man of honest judgment. -Thus it never occurred to Flint that a man like Dorrington, willing, -for a miserable wage, to apply his exceptional subtlety to the -furtherance of his employer's rascally designs, would be at least as -ready to swindle that master on his own account when the opportunity -offered; would be, in fact, the more ready, in proportion to the -stinginess wherewith his master had treated him. - -Having found the codicil, Dorrington's procedure was not to hand it -over forthwith to Flint. It was this: first he made a careful and exact -copy of the codicil; then he procured two men of his acquaintance, men -of good credit, to read over the copy, word for word, and certify it -as being an exact copy of the original by way of a signed declaration -written on the back of the copy. Then he was armed at all points. - -He packed the copy carefully away in his pocket-book, and with the -original in his coat pocket, he called at the house in Bermondsey -Wall, where Paul Cater had taken up his quarters to keep guard over -everything till the will should be proved. So it happened that, while -Samuel Greer, Jarvis Flint, and Lugg, the lawyer, were building their -scheme, Dorrington was talking to Paul Cater at Cater's Wharf. - -On the assurance that he had business of extreme importance, Cater -took Dorrington into the room in which the old man had died. Cater -was using this room as an office in which to examine and balance his -uncle's books, and the corpse had been carried to a room below to await -the funeral. Dorrington's clothes at this time, as I have hinted, -were not distinguished by the excellence of cut and condition that -was afterwards noticeable; in point of fact, he was seedy. But his -assurance and his presence of mind were fully developed, and it was -this very transaction that was to put the elegant appearance within -his reach. - -"Mr. Cater," he said, "I believe you are sole executor of the will -of your uncle, Mr. Jeremiah Cater, who lived in this house." Cater -assented. - -"That will is one extremely favourable to yourself. In fact, by it you -become not only sole executor, but practically sole legatee." - -"Well?" - -"I am here as a man of business and as a man of the world to give you -certain information. There is a codicil to that will." - -Cater started. Then he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as -though he knew better. - -"There is a codicil," Dorrington went on, imperturbably, "executed -in strict form, all in the handwriting of the testator, and dated -nine months later than the will. That codicil benefits your cousin, -Mr. Jarvis Flint, to the extent of ten thousand pounds. To put it in -another way, it deprives _you_ of ten thousand pounds." - -Cater felt uneasy, but he did his best to maintain a contemptuous -appearance. "You're rushing ahead pretty fast," he said, "talking about -the terms of this codicil, as you call it. What I want to know is, -where is it?" - -"That," replied Dorrington, smilingly, "is a question very easily -answered. The codicil is in my pocket." He tapped his coat as he spoke. - -Paul Cater started again, and now he was plainly discomposed. "Very -well," he said, with some bravado, "if you've got it you can show it to -me, I suppose." - -"Nothing easier," Dorrington responded affably. He stepped to the -fireplace and took the poker. "You won't mind my holding the poker -while you inspect the paper, will you?" he asked politely. "The fact -is, the codicil is of such a nature that I fear a man of your sharp -business instincts might be tempted to destroy it, there being no other -witness present, unless you had the assurance (which I now give you) -that if you as much as touch it I shall stun you with the poker. There -is the codicil, which you may read with your hands behind you." He -spread the paper out on the table, and Cater bent eagerly and read it, -growing paler as his eye travelled down the sheet. - -Before raising his eyes, however, he collected himself, and as he stood -up he said, with affected contempt, "I don't care a brass farthing for -this thing! It's a forgery on the face of it." - -"Dear me!" answered Dorrington placidly, recovering the paper and -folding it up; "that's very disappointing to hear. I must take it round -to Mr. Flint and see if that is his opinion." - -"No, you mustn't!" exclaimed Cater, desperately. "You say that's a -genuine document. Very well. I'm still executor, and you are bound to -give it to me." - -"Precisely," Dorrington replied sweetly. "But in the strict interests -of justice I think Mr. Flint, as the person interested, ought to have -a look at it first, _in case_ any accident should happen to it in your -hands. Don't you?" - -Cater knew he was in a corner, and his face betrayed it. - -"Come," said Dorrington in a more business-like tone. "Here is the -case in a nutshell. It is my business, just as it is yours, to get as -much as I can for nothing. In pursuance of that business I quietly got -hold of this codicil. Nobody but yourself knows I have it, and as to -_how_ I got it you needn't ask, for I sha'n't tell you. Here is the -document, and it is worth ten thousand pounds to either of two people, -yourself and Mr. Flint, your worthy cousin. I am prepared to sell it -at a very great sacrifice--to sell it dirt cheap, in fact, and I give -you the privilege of first refusal, for which you ought to be grateful. -One thousand pounds is the price, and that gives you a profit of nine -thousand pounds when you have destroyed the codicil--a noble profit of -nine hundred per cent. at a stroke! Come, is it a bargain?" - -"What?" ejaculated Cater, astounded. "A thousand pounds?" - -"One thousand pounds exactly," replied Dorrington complacently, "and a -penny for the receipt stamp--if you want a receipt." - -"Oh," said Cater, "you're mad. A thousand pounds! Why, it's absurd!" - -"Think so?" remarked Dorrington, reaching for his hat. "Then I must see -if Mr. Flint agrees with you, that's all. He's a man of business, and -I never heard of his refusing a certain nine hundred per cent. profit -yet. Good-day!" - -"No, stop!" yelled the desperate Cater. "Don't go. Don't be -unreasonable now--say five hundred and I'll write you a cheque." - -"Won't do," answered Dorrington, shaking his head. "A thousand is the -price, and not a penny less. And not by cheque, mind. I understand -all moves of that sort. Notes or gold. I wonder at a smart man like -yourself expecting me to be so green." - -"But I haven't the money here." - -"Very likely not. Where's your bank? We'll go there and get it." - -Cater, between his avarice and his fears, was at his wits' end. "Don't -be so hard on me, Mr. Dorrington," he whined. "I'm not a rich man, I -assure you. You'll ruin me!" - -"Ruin you? What _do_ you mean? I give you ten thousand pounds for one -thousand and you say I ruin you! Really, it seems too ridiculously -cheap. If you don't settle quickly, Mr. Cater, I shall raise my terms, -I warn you!" - -So it came about that Dorrington and Cater took cab together for a -branch bank in Pimlico, whence Dorrington emerged with one thousand -pounds in notes and gold, stowed carefully about his person, and Cater -with the codicil to his uncle's will, which half an hour later he had -safely burnt. - - -VI - -So much for the first half of Dorrington's operation. For the second -half he made no immediate hurry. If he had been aware of Samuel -Greer's movements and Lugg's little plot he might have hurried, but as -it was he busied himself in setting up on a more respectable scale by -help of his newly-acquired money. But he did not long delay. He had the -attested copy of the codicil, which would be as good as the original if -properly backed with evidence in a court of law. The astute Cater, wise -in his own conceit, just as was his equally astute cousin Flint, had -clean overlooked the possibility of such a trick as this. And now all -Dorrington had to do was to sell the copy for one more thousand pounds -to Jarvis Flint. - -It was on the morning of old Jerry Cater's funeral that he made his -way to Deptford to do this, and he chuckled as he reflected on the -probable surprise of Flint, who doubtless wondered what had become of -his sweated inquiry agent, when confronted with his offer. But when -he arrived at the ship-store shop he found that Flint was out, so he -resolved to call again in the evening. - -At that moment Jarvis Flint, Samuel Greer, and Lugg the lawyer were at -the house in Bermondsey Wall attacking Paul Cater. Greer, foreseeing -probable defiance by Cater from a window, had led the party in by the -wharf door and so had taken Cater by surprise. Cater was in a suit of -decent black, as befitted the occasion, and he received the news of the -existence of a copy of the codicil he had destroyed with equal fury and -apprehension. - -"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What do you mean? I'm not to be -bluffed like this! You talk about a codicil--where is it? Where is it, -eh?" - -"My dear sir," said Lugg peaceably--he was a small, snuffy man--"we are -not here to make disturbances or quarrels, or breaches of the peace; we -are here on a strictly business errand, and I assure you it will be for -your best interests if you listen quietly to what we have to say. Ahem! -It seems that Mr. Samuel Greer here has frequently seen the codicil----" - -"Greer's a rascal--a thief--a scoundrel!" cried the irate Cater, -shaking his fist in the thick of Greer's squint. "He swindled me out of -ten pounds! He----" - -"Really, Mr. Cater," Lugg interposed, "you do no good by such -outbursts, and you prevent my putting the case before you. As I was -saying, Mr. Greer has frequently seen the codicil, and saw it, indeed, -on the very day of the late Mr. Cater's decease. You may not have -come across it, and, indeed, there may be some temporary difficulty -in finding the original. But fortunately Mr. Greer took notes of the -contents and of the witnesses' names, and from those notes I have -been able to draw up this statement, which Mr. Greer is prepared to -subscribe to, by affidavit or declaration, if by any chance you may be -unable to produce the original codicil." - -Cater, seeing his thousand pounds to Dorrington going for nothing, and -now confronted with the fear of losing ten thousand pounds more, could -scarce speak for rage. "Greer's a liar, I tell you!" he spluttered -out. "A liar, a thief, a scoundrel! His word--his affidavit--his -oath--anything of his--isn't worth a straw!" - -"That, my dear sir," Lugg proceeded equably, "is a thing that may -remain for the probate court, and possibly a jury, to decide upon. -In the meantime permit me to suggest that it will be better for all -parties--cheaper in fact--if this matter be settled out of court. I -think, if you will give the matter a little calm and unbiassed thought, -you will admit that the balance of strength is altogether with our -case. Would you like to look at the statement? Its effect, you will -see, is, roughly speaking, to give my client a legacy of say about -ten thousand pounds in value. The witnesses are easily produced, and -really, I must say, for my part, if Mr. Greer, who has nothing to gain -or lose either way, is prepared to take the serious responsibility of -swearing a declaration----" - -"I don't believe he will!" cried Cater, catching at the straw. "I don't -believe he will. Mind, Greer," he went on, "there's penal servitude for -perjury!" - -"Yes," Greer answered, speaking for the first time, with a squint and a -chuckle, "so there is. And for stealin' an' suppressin' dockyments, I'm -told. I'm ready to make that 'ere declaration." - -"I don't believe he is!" Cater said, with an attempt to affect -indifference. "And anyhow, I needn't take any notice of it till he -does." - -"Well," said Lugg accommodatingly, "there need be no difficulty -or delay about that. The declaration's all written out, and I'm a -commissioner to administer oaths. I think that's a Bible I see on the -shelf there, isn't it?" He stepped across to where the old Bible had -lain since Greer flung it there, just before Jerry Cater's death. He -took the book down and opened it at the title-page. "Yes," he said, "a -Bible; and now--why--what? what?" - -Mr. Lugg stood suddenly still and stared at the fly-leaf. Then he said -quietly, "Let me see, it was on Monday last that Mr. Cater died, was it -not?" - -"Yes." - -"Late in the afternoon?" - -"Yes." - -"Then, gentlemen, you must please prepare yourselves for a surprise. -Mr. Cater evidently made another will, revoking all previous wills and -codicils, on the very day of his death. And here it is!" He extended -the Bible before him, and it was plain to see that the fly-leaf was -covered with the weak, straggling handwriting of old Jerry Cater--a -little weaker and a little more straggling than that in the other will, -but unmistakably his. - -Flint stared, perplexed and bewildered, Greer scratched his head and -squinted blankly at the lawyer. Paul Cater passed his hand across his -forehead and seized a tuft of hair over one temple as though he would -pull it out. The only book in the house that he had not opened or -looked at during his stay was the Bible. - -"The thing is very short," Lugg went on, inclining the writing to the -light. "'_This is the last will and testament of me, Jeremiah Cater, of -Cater's Wharf. I give and bequeath the whole of the estate and property -of which I may die possessed, whether real or personal, entirely and -absolutely to--to--_' what is the name? Oh yes--'_to Henry Sinclair, my -clerk----_'" - -"What?" yelled Cater and Flint in chorus, each rising and clutching at -the Bible. "Not Sinclair! No! Let me see!" - -"I think, gentlemen," said the solicitor, putting their hands aside, -"that you will get the information quickest by listening while I -read. '_----to Henry Sinclair, my clerk. And I appoint the said Henry -Sinclair my sole executor. And I wish it to be known that I do this, -not only by way of reward to an honest servant, and to recompense him -for his loss in loan transactions with me, but also to mark my sense -of the neglect of my two nephews. And I revoke all former wills and -codicils._' Then follows date and signature and the signatures of -witnesses--both apparently men of imperfect education." - -"But you're mad--it's impossible!" exclaimed Cater, the first to find -his tongue. "He _couldn't_ have made a will then--he was too weak. -Greer knows he couldn't." - -Greer, who understood better than anybody else present the allusion in -the will to the nephews' neglect, coughed dubiously, and said, "Well, -he did get up while I was out. An' when I got back he had the Bible -beside him, an' he seemed pretty well knocked up with something. An' -the winder was wide open--I expect he opened it to holler out as well -as he could to some chaps on the wharf or somewhere to come up by the -wharf door and do the witnessing. An' now I think of it I expect he -sent me out a-purpose in case--well, in case if I knowed I might get up -to summat with the will. He told me not to hurry. An' I expect he about -used himself up with the writin' an' the hollerin' an' the cold air an' -what not." - -Cater and Flint, greatly abashed, exchanged a rapid glance. Then Cater, -with a preliminary cough, said hesitatingly, "Well now, Mr. Lugg, let -us consider this. It seems quite evident to me--and no doubt it will -to you, as my cousin's solicitor--it seems quite evident to me that -my poor uncle could not have been in a sound state of mind when he -made this very ridiculous will. Quite apart from all questions of -genuineness, I've no doubt that a court would set it aside. And in -view of that it would be very cruel to allow this poor man Sinclair -to suppose himself to be entitled to a great deal of money, only to -find himself disappointed and ruined after all. You'll agree with -that, I'm sure. So I think it will be best for all parties if we keep -this thing to ourselves, and just tear out that fly-leaf and burn it, -to save trouble. And on my part I shall be glad to admit the copy of -the codicil you have produced, and no doubt my cousin and I will be -prepared to pay you a fee which will compensate you for any loss of -business in actions--eh?" - -Mr. Lugg was tempted, but he was no fool. Here was Samuel Greer at -his elbow knowing everything, and without a doubt, no matter how well -bribed, always ready to make more money by betraying the arrangement -to Sinclair. And that would mean inevitable ruin to Lugg himself, and -probably a dose of gaol. So he shook his head virtuously and said, -"I couldn't think of anything of the sort, Mr. Cater, not for an -instant. I am a solicitor, and I have my strict duties. It is my duty -immediately to place this will in the hands of Mr. Henry Sinclair, as -sole executor. I wish you a good-day, gentlemen." - -And so it was that old Jerry Cater's money came at last to Sinclair. -And the result was a joyful one, not only for Sinclair and his wife, -but also for a number of poor debtors whose "paper" was part of the -property. For Sinclair knew the plight of these wretches by personal -experience, and was merciful, as neither Flint nor Paul Cater would -have been. The two witnesses to the Bible will turned out to be -bargemen. They had been mightily surprised to be hailed from Jerry -Cater's window by the old man himself, already looking like a corpse. -They had come up, however, at his request, and had witnessed the will, -though neither knew anything of its contents. But they were ready to -testify that it was written in a Bible, that they saw Cater sign it, -and that the attesting signatures were theirs. They had helped the old -man back into bed, and next day they heard that he was dead. - -As for Dorrington, he had a thousand pounds to set him up in a -gentlemanly line of business and villainy. Ignorant of what had -happened, he attempted to tap Flint for another thousand pounds as he -had designed, but was met with revilings and an explanation. Seeing -that the game was finished, Dorrington laughed at both the cousins and -turned his attention to his next case. - -And old Jerry Cater's funeral was attended, as nobody would have -expected, by two very genuine mourners--Paul Cater and Jarvis Flint. -But they mourned, not the old man, but his lost fortune, and Paul Cater -also mourned a sum of one thousand and ten pounds of his own. They had -followed Lugg to the door when he walked off with the Bible in hope -to persuade him, but he saw a wealthy client in prospect in Mr. Henry -Sinclair, and would not allow his virtue to be shaken. - -Samuel Greer walked away from the old house in moody case. Plainly -there were no more pickings available from old Jerry Cater's wills -and codicils. As he trudged by St. Saviour's Dock he was suddenly -confronted by a large navvy with a black eye. The navvy stooped and -inspected a peacock's feather-eye that adorned the band of the hat -Greer was wearing. Then he calmly grabbed and inspected the hat -itself, inside and outside. "Why, blow me if this ain't my 'at!" said -the navvy. "Take that, ye dirty squintin' thief! And that too! And -that!" - - -UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Dorrington Deed-Box, by Arthur Morrison - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX *** - -***** This file should be named 53341-0.txt or 53341-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/3/4/53341/ - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Dorrington Deed-Box - -Author: Arthur Morrison - -Illustrator: Stanley Wood - -Release Date: October 22, 2016 [EBook #53341] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX *** - - - - - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -<img src="images/illus007.jpg" alt="LOFTUS DEACON" /> -</p> - - -<p class="caption">"MR. LOFTUS DEACON LAY IN A POOL OF BLOOD" </p> - - - - - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -THE</p> -<p class="ph1"> -DORRINGTON DEED-BOX</p> -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -BY</p> - -<p class="ph3">ARTHUR MORRISON</p> - -<p class="ph5">AUTHOR OF<br /> - -"A CHILD OF THE JAGO," "TALES OF MEAN STREETS,"<br /> -"MARTIN HEWITT: INVESTIGATOR," ETC.</p> - -<p class="ph4" style="margin-top: 5em;"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i>.</p> - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;">LONDON:<br /> -WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED,<br /> -<br /> -WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.<br /> -NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph3">CONTENTS</p> - - - - - - -<table summary="toc" width="80%"> -<tr> -<td colspan="3" align="right">PAGE -</td> -<td> -</td> -<td> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">I. -</td> -<td><a href="#I">THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY</a> -</td> -<td align="right">1 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">II. -</td> -<td><a href="#THE_CASE_OF_JANISSARY">THE CASE OF JANISSARY</a> -</td> -<td align="right">53 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">III. -</td> -<td><a href="#III">THE CASE OF THE "MIRROR OF PORTUGAL"</a> -</td> -<td align="right">101 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">IV. -</td> -<td><a href="#IV">THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED"</a> -</td> -<td align="right">151 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">V. -</td> -<td><a href="#THE_CASE_OF_MR_LOFTUS_DEACON">THE CASE OF MR. LOFTUS DEACON</a> -</td> -<td align="right">199 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">VI. -</td> -<td><a href="#OLD_CATERS_MONEY">OLD CATER'S MONEY</a> -</td> -<td align="right">255 -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<p class="ph2" style="margin-top: 10em;">THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX</p> - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -<a name="I" id="I"><i>THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY</i></a> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph3">I</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus001.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - -<p>I shall here set down in language as simple and straightforward as I -can command, the events which followed my recent return to England; -and I shall leave it to others to judge whether or not my conduct has -been characterised by foolish fear and ill-considered credulity. At -the same time I have my own opinion as to what would have been the -behaviour of any other man of average intelligence and courage in the -same circumstances; more especially a man of my exceptional upbringing -and retired habits.</p> - -<p>I was born in Australia, and I have lived there all my life till quite -recently, save for a single trip to Europe as a boy, in company with -my father and mother. It was then that I lost my father. I was less -than nine years old at the time, but my memory of the events of that -European trip is singularly vivid.</p> - -<p>My father had emigrated to Australia at the time of his marriage, and -had become a rich man by singularly fortunate speculations in land in -and about Sydney. As a family we were most uncommonly self-centred and -isolated. From my parents I never heard a word as to their relatives -in England; indeed to this day I do not as much as know what was -the Christian name of my grandfather. I have often supposed that -some serious family quarrel or great misfortune must have preceded -or accompanied my father's marriage. Be that as it may, I was never -able to learn anything of my relatives, either on my mother's or my -father's side. Both parents, however, were educated people, and indeed -I fancy that their habit of seclusion must first have arisen from -this circumstance, since the colonists about them in the early days, -excellent people as they were, were not as a class distinguished for -extreme intellectual culture. My father had his library stocked from -England, and added to by fresh arrivals from time to time; and among -his books he would pass most of his days, taking, however, now and -again an excursion with a gun in search of some new specimen to add to -his museum of natural history, which occupied three long rooms in our -house by the Lane Cove river.</p> - -<p>I was, as I have said, eight years of age when I started with my -parents on a European tour, and it was in the year 1873. We stayed but -a short while in England at first arrival, intending to make a longer -stay on our return from the Continent. We made our tour, taking Italy -last, and it was here that my father encountered a dangerous adventure.</p> - -<p>We were at Naples, and my father had taken an odd fancy for a -picturesque-looking ruffian who had attracted his attention by a -complexion unusually fair for an Italian, and in whom he professed to -recognise a likeness to Tasso the poet. This man became his guide in -excursions about the neighbourhood of Naples, though he was not one -of the regular corps of guides, and indeed seemed to have no regular -occupation of a definite sort. "Tasso," as my father always called him, -seemed a civil fellow enough, and was fairly intelligent; but my mother -disliked him extremely from the first, without being able to offer any -very distinct reason for her aversion. In the event her instinct was -proved true.</p> - - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus008.jpg" alt="DEAD" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">HIS ASSAILANT FELL DEAD.</p> - -<p>"Tasso"—his correct name, by the way, was Tommaso Marino—persuaded -my father that something interesting was to be seen at the Astroni -crater, four miles west of the city, or thereabout; persuaded him, -moreover, to make the journey on foot; and the two accordingly set -out. All went well enough till the crater was reached, and then, in -a lonely and broken part of the hill, the guide suddenly turned and -attacked my father with a knife, his intention, without a doubt, being -murder and the acquisition of the Englishman's valuables. Fortunately -my father had a hip-pocket with a revolver in it, for he had been -warned of the danger a stranger might at that time run wandering in -the country about Naples. He received a wound in the flesh of his -left arm in an attempt to ward off a stab, and fired, at wrestling -distance, with the result that his assailant fell dead on the spot. He -left the place with all speed, tying up his arm as he went, sought the -British consul at Naples, and informed him of the whole circumstances. -From the authorities there was no great difficulty. An examination or -two, a few signatures, some particular exertions on the part of -the consul, and my father was free, so far as the officers of the law -were concerned. But while these formalities were in progress no less -than three attempts were made on his life—two by the knife and one by -shooting—and in each his escape was little short of miraculous. For -the dead ruffian, Marino, had been a member of the dreaded Camorra, and -the Camorristi were eager to avenge his death. To anybody acquainted -with the internal history of Italy—more particularly the history of -the old kingdom of Naples—the name of the Camorra will be familiar -enough. It was one of the worst and most powerful of the many powerful -and evil secret societies of Italy, and had none of the excuses for -existence which have been from time to time put forward on behalf of -the others. It was a gigantic club for the commission of crime and -the extortion of money. So powerful was it that it actually imposed a -regular tax on all food material entering Naples—a tax collected and -paid with far more regularity than were any of the taxes due to the -lawful Government of the country. The carrying of smuggled goods was -a monopoly of the Camorra, a perfect organisation existing for the -purpose throughout the kingdom. The whole population was terrorised -by this detestable society, which had no less than twelve centres in -the city of Naples alone. It contracted for the commission of crime -just as systematically and calmly as a railway company contracts -for the carriage of merchandise. A murder was so much, according -to circumstances, with extras for disposing of the body; arson was -dealt in profitably; maimings and kidnappings were carried out with -promptitude and despatch; and any diabolical outrage imaginable was a -mere matter of price. One of the staple vocations of the concern was of -course brigandage. After the coming of Victor Emanuel and the fusion -of Italy into one kingdom the Camorra lost some of its power, but for -a long time gave considerable trouble. I have heard that in the year -after the matters I am describing two hundred Camorristi were banished -from Italy.</p> - -<p>As soon as the legal forms were complied with, my father received -the broadest possible official hint that the sooner and the more -secretly he left the country the better it would be for himself and -his family. The British consul, too, impressed it upon him that the -law would be entirely unable to protect him against the machinations -of the Camorra; and indeed it needed but little persuasion to induce -us to leave, for my poor mother was in a state of constant terror lest -we were murdered together in our hotel; so that we lost no time in -returning to England and bringing our European trip to a close.</p> - -<p>In London we stayed at a well-known private hotel near Bond Street. We -had been but three days here when my father came in one evening with a -firm conviction that he had been followed for something like two hours, -and followed very skilfully too. More than once he had doubled suddenly -with a view to confront the pursuers, who he felt were at his heels, -but he had met nobody of a suspicious appearance. The next afternoon I -heard my mother telling my governess (who was travelling with us) of an -unpleasant-looking man, who had been hanging about opposite the hotel -door, and who, she felt sure, had afterwards been following her and my -father as they were walking. My mother grew nervous, and communicated -her fears to my father. He, however, pooh-poohed the thing, and took -little thought of its meaning. Nevertheless the dogging continued, and -my father, who was never able to fix upon the persons who caused the -annoyance—indeed he rather felt their presence by instinct, as one -does in such cases, than otherwise—grew extremely angry, and had some -idea of consulting the police. Then one morning my mother discovered -a little paper label stuck on the outside of the door of the bedroom -occupied by herself and my father. It was a small thing, circular, and -about the size of a sixpenny-piece, or even smaller, but my mother was -quite certain that it had not been there when she last entered the door -the night before, and she was much terrified. For the label carried a -tiny device, drawn awkwardly in ink—a pair of knives of curious shape, -crossed: the sign of the Camorra.</p> - -<p>Nobody knew anything of this label, or how it came where it had been -found. My mother urged my father to place himself under the protection -of the police at once, but he delayed. Indeed, I fancy he had a -suspicion that the label might be the production of some practical -joker staying at the hotel who had heard of his Neapolitan adventure -(it was reported in many newspapers) and designed to give him a fright. -But that very evening my poor father was found dead, stabbed in a -dozen places, in a short, quiet street not forty yards from the hotel. -He had merely gone out to buy a few cigars of a particular brand which -he fancied, at a shop two streets away, and in less than half an hour -of his departure the police were at the hotel door with the news of his -death, having got his address from letters in his pockets.</p> - -<p>It is no part of my present design to enlarge on my mother's grief, or -to describe in detail the incidents that followed my father's death, -for I am going back to this early period of my life merely to make more -clear the bearings of what has recently happened to myself. It will -be sufficient therefore to say that at the inquest the jury returned -a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown; -that it was several times reported that the police had obtained a most -important clue, and that being so, very naturally there was never any -arrest. We returned to Sydney, and there I grew up.</p> - -<p>I should perhaps have mentioned ere this that my profession—or I -should rather say my hobby—is that of an artist. Fortunately or -unfortunately, as you may please to consider it, I have no need to -follow any profession as a means of livelihood, but since I was -sixteen years of age my whole time has been engrossed in drawing and -painting. Were it not for my mother's invincible objection to parting -with me, even for the shortest space of time, I should long ago have -come to Europe to work and to study in the regular schools. As it was -I made shift to do my best in Australia, and wandered about pretty -freely, struggling with the difficulties of moulding into artistic form -the curious Australian landscape. There is an odd, desolate, uncanny -note in characteristic Australian scenery, which most people are apt to -regard as of little value for the purposes of the landscape painter, -but with which I have always been convinced that an able painter could -do great things. So I did my feeble best.</p> - -<p>Two years ago my mother died. My age was then twenty-eight, and I was -left without a friend in the world, and, so far as I know, without a -relative. I soon found it impossible any longer to inhabit the large -house by the Lane Cove river. It was beyond my simple needs, and the -whole thing was an embarrassment, to say nothing of the associations -of the house with my dead mother, which exercised a painful and -depressing effect on me. So I sold the house, and cut myself adrift. -For a year or more I pursued the life of a lonely vagabond in New -South Wales, painting as well as I could its scattered forests of -magnificent trees, with their curious upturned foliage. Then, miserably -dissatisfied with my performance, and altogether filled with a restless -spirit, I determined to quit the colony and live in England, or at -any rate somewhere in Europe. I would paint at the Paris schools, I -promised myself, and acquire that technical mastery of my material that -I now felt the lack of.</p> - -<p>The thing was no sooner resolved on than begun. I instructed my -solicitors in Sydney to wind up my affairs and to communicate with -their London correspondents in order that, on my arrival in England, -I might deal with business matters through them. I had more than half -resolved to transfer all my property to England, and to make the old -country my permanent headquarters; and in three weeks from the date -of my resolve I had started. I carried with me the necessary letters -of introduction to the London solicitors, and the deeds appertaining -to certain land in South Australia, which my father had bought just -before his departure on the fatal European trip. There was workable -copper in this land, it had since been ascertained, and I believed I -might profitably dispose of the property to a company in London.</p> - -<p>I found myself to some extent out of my element on board a great -passenger steamer. It seemed no longer possible for me in the constant -association of shipboard to maintain that reserve which had become with -me a second nature. But so much had it become my nature that I shrank -ridiculously from breaking it, for, grown man as I was, it must be -confessed that I was absurdly shy, and indeed I fear little better than -an overgrown schoolboy in my manner. But somehow I was scarce a day at -sea before falling into a most pleasant acquaintanceship with another -passenger, a man of thirty-eight or forty, whose name was Dorrington. -He was a tall, well-built fellow, rather handsome, perhaps, except for -a certain extreme roundness of face and fulness of feature; he had a -dark military moustache, and carried himself erect, with a swing as of -a cavalryman, and his eyes had, I think, the most penetrating quality -I ever saw. His manners were extremely engaging, and he was the only -good talker I had ever met. He knew everybody, and had been everywhere. -His fund of illustration and anecdote was inexhaustible, and during -all my acquaintance with him I never heard him tell the same story -twice. Nothing could happen—not a bird could fly by the ship, not a -dish could be put on the table, but Dorrington was ready with a pungent -remark and the appropriate anecdote. And he never bored nor wearied -one. With all his ready talk he never appeared unduly obtrusive nor -in the least egotistic. Mr. Horace Dorrington was altogether the most -charming person I had ever met. Moreover we discovered a community of -taste in cigars.</p> - -<p>"By the way," said Dorrington to me one magnificent evening as we -leaned on the rail and smoked, "Rigby isn't a very common name in -Australia, is it? I seem to remember a case, twenty years ago or more, -of an Australian gentleman of that name being very badly treated -in London—indeed, now I think of it, I'm not sure that he wasn't -murdered. Ever hear anything of it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "I heard a great deal, unfortunately. He was my father, -and he <i>was</i> murdered."</p> - -<p>"Your father? There—I'm awfully sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have -mentioned it; but of course I didn't know."</p> - -<p>"Oh," I replied, "that's all right. It's so far back now that I don't -mind speaking about it. It was a very extraordinary thing altogether." -And then, feeling that I owed Dorrington a story of some sort, after -listening to the many he had been telling me, I described to him the -whole circumstances of my father's death.</p> - -<p>"Ah," said Dorrington when I had finished, "I have heard of the Camorra -before this—I know a thing or two about it, indeed. As a matter of -fact it still exists; not quite the widespread and open thing it once -was, of course, and much smaller; but pretty active in a quiet way, -and pretty mischievous. They were a mighty bad lot, those Camorristi. -Personally I'm rather surprised that you heard no more of them. They -were the sort of people who would rather any day murder three people -than one, and their usual idea of revenge went a good way beyond the -mere murder of the offending party; they had a way of including his -wife and family, and as many relatives as possible. But at any rate -<i>you</i> seem to have got off all right, though I'm inclined to call it -rather a piece of luck than otherwise."</p> - -<p>Then, as was his invariable habit, he launched into anecdote. He told -me of the crimes of the Maffia, that Italian secret society, larger -even and more powerful than the Camorra, and almost as criminal; -tales of implacable revenge visited on father, son, and grandson -in succession, till the race was extirpated. Then he talked of the -methods; of the large funds at the disposal of the Camorra and the -Maffia, and of the cunning patience with which their schemes were -carried into execution; of the victims who had discovered too late -that their most trusted servants were sworn to their destruction, and -of those who had fled to remote parts of the earth and hoped to be -lost and forgotten, but who had been shadowed and slain with barbarous -ferocity in their most trusted hiding-places. Wherever Italians were, -there was apt to be a branch of one of the societies, and one could -never tell where they might or might not turn up. The two Italian -forecastle hands on board at that moment might be members, and might -or might not have some business in hand not included in their signed -articles.</p> - -<p>I asked if he had ever come into personal contact with either of these -societies or their doings.</p> - -<p>"With the Camorra, no, though I know things about them that would -probably surprise some of them not a little. But I have had -professional dealings with the Maffia—and that without coming off -second best, too. But it was not so serious a case as your father's; -one of a robbery of documents and blackmail."</p> - -<p>"Professional dealings?" I queried.</p> - -<p>Dorrington laughed. "Yes," he answered. "I find I've come very near to -letting the cat out of the bag. I don't generally tell people who I am -when I travel about, and indeed I don't always use my own name, as I am -doing now. Surely you've heard the name at some time or another?"</p> - -<p>I had to confess that I did not remember it. But I excused myself by -citing my secluded life, and the fact that I had never left Australia -since I was a child.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he said, "of course we should be less heard of in Australia. But -in England we're really pretty well known, my partner and I. But, come -now, look me all over and consider, and I'll give you a dozen guesses -and bet you a sovereign you can't tell me my trade. And it's not such -an uncommon or unheard-of trade, neither."</p> - -<p>Guessing would have been hopeless, and I said so. He did not seem the -sort of man who would trouble himself about a trade at all. I gave it -up.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "I've no particular desire to have it known all over -the ship, but I don't mind telling you—you'd find it out probably -before long if you settle in the old country—that we are what is -called private inquiry agents—detectives—secret service men—whatever -you like to call it."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed. And I think I may claim that we stand as high as any—if -not a trifle higher. Of course I can't tell you, but you'd be rather -astonished if you heard the names of some of our clients. We have had -dealings with certain royalties, European and Asiatic, that would -startle you a bit if I could tell them. Dorrington & Hicks is the name -of the firm, and we are both pretty busy men, though we keep going a -regiment of assistants and correspondents. I have been in Australia -three months over a rather awkward and complicated matter, but I fancy -I've pulled it through pretty well, and I mean to reward myself with a -little holiday when I get back. There—now you know the worst of me. -And D. & H. present their respectful compliments, and trust that by -unfailing punctuality and a strict attention to business they may hope -to receive your esteemed commands whenever you may be so unfortunate as -to require their services. Family secrets extracted, cleaned, scaled, -or stopped with gold. Special attention given to wholesale orders." He -laughed and pulled out his cigar-case. "You haven't another cigar in -your pocket," he said, "or you wouldn't smoke that stump so low. Try -one of these."</p> - -<p>I took the cigar and lit it at my remainder. "Ah, then," I said, "I -take it that it is the practice of your profession that has given you -such a command of curious and out-of-the-way information and anecdote. -Plainly you must have been in the midst of many curious affairs."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I believe you," Dorrington replied. "But, as it happens, the most -curious of my experiences I am unable to relate, since they are matters -of professional confidence. Such as I <i>can</i> tell I usually tell with -altered names, dates, and places. One learns discretion in such a trade -as mine."</p> - -<p>"As to your adventure with the Maffia, now. Is there any secrecy about -that?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said, "none in particular. -But the case was not particularly interesting. It was in Florence. -The documents were the property of a wealthy American, and some of -the Maffia rascals managed to steal them. It doesn't matter what the -documents were—that's a private matter—but their owner would have -parted with a great deal to get them back, and the Maffia held them for -ransom. But they had such a fearful notion of the American's wealth, -and of what he ought to pay, that, badly as he wanted the papers back, -he couldn't stand their demands, and employed us to negotiate and to -do our best for him. I think I might have managed to get the things -stolen back again—indeed I spent some time thinking a plan over—but -I decided in the end that it wouldn't pay. If the Maffia were tricked -in that way they might consider it appropriate to stick somebody -with a knife, and that was not an easy thing to provide against. So -I took a little time and went another way to work. The details don't -matter—they're quite uninteresting, and to tell you them would be to -talk mere professional 'shop'; there's a deal of dull and patient work -to be done in my business. Anyhow, I contrived to find out exactly -in whose hands the documents lay. He wasn't altogether a blameless -creature, and there were two or three little things that, properly -handled, might have brought him into awkward complications with the -law. So I delayed the negotiations while I got my nets effectually -round this gentleman, who was the president of that particular branch -of the Maffia, and when all was ready I had a friendly interview with -him, and just showed him my hand of cards. They served as no other -argument would have done, and in the end we concluded quite an amicable -arrangement on easy terms for both parties, and my client got his -property back, including all expenses, at about a fifth of the price he -expected to have to pay. That's all. I learnt a deal about the Maffia -while the business lasted, and at that and other times I learnt a good -deal about the Camorra too."</p> - -<p>Dorrington and I grew more intimate every day of the voyage, till he -knew every detail of my uneventful little history, and I knew many -of his own most curious experiences. In truth he was a man with an -irresistible fascination for a dull home-bird like myself. With all his -gaiety he never forgot business, and at most of our stopping places he -sent off messages by cable to his partner. As the voyage drew near its -end he grew anxious and impatient lest he should not arrive in time to -enable him to get to Scotland for grouse-shooting on the twelfth of -August. His one amusement, it seemed, was shooting, and the holiday he -had promised himself was to be spent on a grouse-moor which he rented -in Perthshire. It would be a great nuisance to miss the twelfth, he -said, but it would apparently be a near shave. He thought, however, -that in any case it might be done by leaving the ship at Plymouth, and -rushing up to London by the first train.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said, "I think I shall be able to do it that way, even if the -boat is a couple of days late. By the way," he added suddenly, "why not -come along to Scotland with me? You haven't any particular business in -hand, and I can promise you a week or two of good fun."</p> - -<p>The invitation pleased me. "It's very good of you," I said, "and as a -matter of fact I haven't any very urgent business in London. I must -see those solicitors I told you of, but that's not a matter of hurry; -indeed an hour or two on my way through London would be enough. But as -I don't know any of your party and——"</p> - -<p>"Pooh, pooh, my dear fellow," answered Dorrington, with a snap of -his fingers, "that's all right. I shan't have a party. There won't -be time to get it together. One or two might come down a little -later, but if they do they'll be capital fellows, delighted to make -your acquaintance, I'm sure. Indeed you'll do me a great favour if -you'll come, else I shall be all alone, without a soul to say a word -to. Anyway, I <i>won't</i> miss the twelfth, if it's to be done by any -possibility. You'll really have to come, you know—you've no excuse. I -can lend you guns and anything you want, though I believe you've such -things with you. Who is your London solicitor, by the way?"</p> - -<p>"Mowbray, of Lincoln's Inn Fields."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Mowbray? We know him well; his partner died last year. When I say -<i>we</i> know him well, I mean as a firm. I have never met him personally, -though my partner (who does the office work) has regular dealings -with him. He's an excellent man, but his managing clerk's frightful; -I wonder Mowbray keeps him. Don't you let him do anything for you on -his own hook; he makes the most disastrous messes, and I rather fancy -he drinks. Deal with Mowbray himself; there's nobody better in London. -And by the way, now I think of it, it's lucky you've nothing urgent for -him, for he's sure to be off out of town for the twelfth; he's a rare -old gunner, and never misses a season. So that now you haven't a shade -of an excuse for leaving me in the lurch, and we'll consider the thing -settled."</p> - -<p>Settled accordingly it was, and the voyage ended uneventfully. But the -steamer was late, and we left it at Plymouth and rushed up to town on -the tenth. We had three or four hours to prepare before leaving Euston -by the night train. Dorrington's moor was a long drive from Crieff -station, and he calculated that at best we could not arrive there -before the early evening of the following day, which would, however, -give us comfortable time for a good long night's rest before the -morning's sport opened. Fortunately I had plenty of loose cash with me, -so that there was nothing to delay us in that regard. We made ready in -Dorrington's rooms (he was a bachelor) in Conduit Street, and got off -comfortably by the ten o'clock train from Euston.</p> - -<p>Then followed a most delightful eight days. The weather was fine, the -birds were plentiful, and my first taste of grouse-shooting was a -complete success. I resolved for the future to come out of my shell and -mix in the world that contained such charming fellows as Dorrington, -and such delightful sports as that I was then enjoying. But on the -eighth day Dorrington received a telegram calling him instantly to -London.</p> - -<p>"It's a shocking nuisance," he said; "here's my holiday either knocked -on the head altogether or cut in two, and I fear it's the first rather -than the second. It's just the way in such an uncertain profession as -mine. There's no possible help for it, however; I must go, as you'd -understand at once if you knew the case. But what chiefly annoys me is -leaving you all alone."</p> - -<p>I reassured him on this point, and pointed out that I had for a long -time been used to a good deal of my own company. Though indeed, with -Dorrington away, life at the shooting-lodge threatened to be less -pleasant than it had been.</p> - -<p>"But you'll be bored to death here," Dorrington said, his thoughts -jumping with my own. "But on the other hand it won't be much good -going up to town yet. Everybody's out of town, and Mowbray among them. -There's a little business of ours that's waiting for him at this -moment—my partner mentioned it in his letter yesterday. Why not put in -the time with a little tour round? Or you might work up to London by -irregular stages, and look about you. As an artist you'd like to see -a few of the old towns—probably, Edinburgh, Chester, Warwick, and so -on. It isn't a great programme, perhaps, but I hardly know what else to -suggest. As for myself I must be off as I am by the first train I can -get."</p> - -<p>I begged him not to trouble about me, but to attend to his business. As -a matter of fact, I was disposed to get to London and take chambers, at -any rate for a little while. But Chester was a place I much wanted to -see—a real old town, with walls round it—and I was not indisposed to -take a day at Warwick. So in the end I resolved to pack up and make for -Chester the following day, and from there to take train for Warwick. -And in half an hour Dorrington was gone.</p> - -<p>Chester was all delight to me. My recollections of the trip to Europe -in my childhood were vivid enough as to the misfortunes that followed -my father, but of the ancient buildings we visited I remembered little. -Now in Chester I found the mediæval town I had so often read of. I -wandered for hours together in the quaint old "Rows," and walked on the -city wall. The evening after my arrival was fine and moonlight, and I -was tempted from my hotel. I took a stroll about the town and finished -by a walk along the wall from the Watergate toward the cathedral. The -moon, flecked over now and again by scraps of cloud, and at times -obscured for half a minute together, lighted up all the Roodee in the -intervals, and touched with silver the river beyond. But as I walked -I presently grew aware of a quiet shuffling footstep some little way -behind me. I took little heed of it at first, though I could see nobody -near me from whom the sound might come. But soon I perceived that -when I stopped, as I did from time to time to gaze over the parapet, -the mysterious footsteps stopped also, and when I resumed my walk the -quiet shuffling tread began again. At first I thought it might be an -echo; but a moment's reflection dispelled that idea. Mine was an even, -distinct walk, and this which followed was a soft, quick, shuffling -step—a mere scuffle. Moreover, when, by way of test, I took a few -silent steps on tip-toe, the shuffle still persisted. I was being -followed.</p> - -<p>Now I do not know whether or not it may sound like a childish fancy, -but I confess I thought of my father. When last I had been in England, -as a child, my father's violent death had been preceded by just such -followings. And now after all these years, on my return, on the very -first night I walked abroad alone, there were strange footsteps in -my track. The walk was narrow, and nobody could possibly pass me -unseen. I turned suddenly, therefore, and hastened back. At once I -saw a dark figure rise from the shadow of the parapet and run. I ran -too, but I could not gain on the figure, which receded farther and -more indistinctly before me. One reason was that I felt doubtful of -my footing on the unfamiliar track. I ceased my chase, and continued -my stroll. It might easily have been some vagrant thief, I thought, -who had a notion to rush, at a convenient opportunity, and snatch my -watch. But here I was far past the spot where I had turned there was -the shuffling footstep behind me again. For a little while I feigned -not to notice it; then, swinging round as swiftly as I could, I made a -quick rush. Useless again, for there in the distance scuttled that same -indistinct figure, more rapidly than I could run. What did it mean? I -liked the affair so little that I left the walls and walked toward my -hotel.</p> - -<p>The streets were quiet. I had traversed two, and was about emerging -into one of the two main streets, where the Rows are, when, from the -farther part of the dark street behind me, there came once more the -sound of the now unmistakable footstep. I stopped; the footsteps -stopped also. I turned and walked back a few steps, and as I did it the -sounds went scuffling away at the far end of the street.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus009.jpg" alt="QUICK RUSH" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"I MADE A QUICK RUSH."</p> - -<p>It could not be fancy. It could not be chance. For a single incident -perhaps such an explanation might serve, but not for this persistent -recurrence. I hurried away to my hotel, resolved, since I could not -come at my pursuer, to turn back no more. But before I reached the -hotel there were the shuffling footsteps again, and not far behind.</p> - -<p>It would not be true to say that I was alarmed at this stage of the -adventure, but I was troubled to know what it all might mean, and -altogether puzzled to account for it. I thought a great deal, but I -went to bed and rose in the morning no wiser than ever.</p> - -<p>Whether or not it was a mere fancy induced by the last night's -experience I cannot say, but I went about that day with a haunting -feeling that I was watched, and to me the impression was very real -indeed. I listened often, but in the bustle of the day, even in quiet -old Chester, the individual characters of different footsteps were not -easily recognisable. Once, however, as I descended a flight of steps -from the Rows, I fancied I heard the quick shuffle in the curious old -gallery I had just quitted. I turned up the steps again and looked. -There was a shabby sort of man looking in one of the windows, and -leaning so far as to hide his head behind the heavy oaken pilaster -that supported the building above. It might have been his footstep, -or it might have been my fancy. At any rate I would have a look at -him. I mounted the top stair, but as I turned in his direction the -man ran off, with his face averted and his head ducked, and vanished -down another stair. I made all speed after him, but when I reached the -street he was nowhere to be seen.</p> - -<p>What <i>could</i> it all mean? The man was rather above the middle height, -and he wore one of those soft felt hats familiar on the head of the -London organ-grinder. Also his hair was black and bushy, and protruded -over the back of his coat-collar. Surely <i>this</i> was no delusion; surely -I was not imagining an Italian aspect for this man simply because of -the recollection of my father's fate?</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was foolish, but I took no more pleasure in Chester. The -embarrassment was a novel one for me, and I could not forget it. I went -back to my hotel, paid my bill, sent my bag to the railway station, and -took train for Warwick by way of Crewe.</p> - -<p>It was dark when I arrived, but the night was near as fine as last -night had been at Chester. I took a very little late dinner at my -hotel, and fell into a doubt what to do with myself. One rather fat -and very sleepy commercial traveller was the only other customer -visible, and the billiard room was empty. There seemed to be nothing to -do but to light a cigar and take a walk.</p> - -<p>I could just see enough of the old town to give me good hopes of -to-morrow's sight-seeing. There was nothing visible of quite such an -interesting character as one might meet in Chester, but there were a -good few fine old sixteenth century houses, and there were the two -gates with the chapels above them. But of course the castle was the -great show-place, and that I should visit on the morrow, if there were -no difficulties as to permission. There were some very fine pictures -there, if I remembered aright what I had read. I was walking down the -incline from one of the gates, trying to remember who the painters of -these pictures were, besides Van Dyck and Holbein, when—that shuffling -step was behind me again!</p> - -<p>I admit that it cost me an effort, this time, to turn on my pursuer. -There was something uncanny in that persistent, elusive footstep, -and indeed there was something alarming in my circumstances, dogged -thus from place to place, and unable to shake off my enemy, or to -understand his movements or his motive. Turn I did, however, and -straightway the shuffling step went off at a hastened pace in the -shadow of the gate. This time I made no more than half-a-dozen steps -back. I turned again, and pushed my way to the hotel. And as I went the -shuffling step came after.</p> - -<p>The thing was serious. There must be some object in this unceasing -watching, and the object could bode no good to me. Plainly some unseen -eye had been on me the whole of that day, had noted my goings and -comings and my journey from Chester. Again, and irresistibly, the -watchings that preceded my father's death came to mind, and I could not -forget them. I could have no doubt now that I had been closely watched -from the moment I had set foot at Plymouth. But who could have been -waiting to watch me at Plymouth, when indeed I had only decided to land -at the last moment? Then I thought of the two Italian forecastle hands -on the steamer—the very men whom Dorrington had used to illustrate -in what unexpected quarters members of the terrible Italian secret -societies might be found. And the Camorra was not satisfied with single -revenge; it destroyed the son after the father, and it waited for many -years, with infinite patience and cunning.</p> - -<p>Dogged by the steps, I reached the hotel and went to bed. I slept but -fitfully at first, though better rest came as the night wore on. In -the early morning I woke with a sudden shock, and with an indefinite -sense of being disturbed by somebody about me. The window was directly -opposite the foot of the bed, and there, as I looked, was the face of -a man, dark, evil, and grinning, with a bush of black hair about his -uncovered head, and small rings in his ears.</p> - -<p>It was but a flash, and the face vanished. I was struck by the terror -that one so often feels on a sudden and violent awakening from sleep, -and it was some seconds ere I could leave my bed and get to the -window. My room was on the first floor, and the window looked down on -a stable-yard. I had a momentary glimpse of a human figure leaving the -gate of the yard, and it was the figure that had fled before me in -the Rows, at Chester. A ladder belonging to the yard stood under the -window, and that was all.</p> - -<p>I rose and dressed; I could stand this sort of thing no longer. If -it were only something tangible, if there were only somebody I could -take hold of, and fight with if necessary, it would not have been so -bad. But I was surrounded by some mysterious machination, persistent, -unexplainable, that it was altogether impossible to tackle or to face. -To complain to the police would have been absurd—they would take me -for a lunatic. They are indeed just such complaints that lunatics so -often make to the police—complaints of being followed by indefinite -enemies, and of being besieged by faces that look in at windows. -Even if they did not set me down a lunatic, what could the police of -a provincial town do for me in a case like this? No, I must go and -consult Dorrington.</p> - -<p>I had my breakfast, and then decided that I would at any rate try the -castle before leaving. Try it I did accordingly, and was allowed to go -over it. But through the whole morning I was oppressed by the horrible -sense of being watched by malignant eyes. Clearly there was no comfort -for me while this lasted; so after lunch I caught a train which brought -me to Euston soon after half-past six.</p> - -<p>I took a cab straight to Dorrington's rooms, but he was out, and was -not expected home till late. So I drove to a large hotel near Charing -Cross—I avoid mentioning its name for reasons which will presently be -understood—sent in my bag, and dined.</p> - -<p>I had not the smallest doubt but that I was still under the observation -of the man or the men who had so far pursued me; I had, indeed, no -hope of eluding them, except by the contrivance of Dorrington's -expert brain. So as I had no desire to hear that shuffling footstep -again—indeed it had seemed, at Warwick, to have a physically painful -effect on my nerves—I stayed within and got to bed early.</p> - -<p>I had no fear of waking face to face with a grinning Italian here. My -window was four floors up, out of reach of anything but a fire-escape. -And, in fact, I woke comfortably and naturally, and saw nothing from -my window but the bright sky, the buildings opposite, and the traffic -below. But as I turned to close my door behind me as I emerged into the -corridor, there, on the muntin of the frame, just below the bedroom -number, was a little round paper label, perhaps a trifle smaller than a -sixpence, and on the label, drawn awkwardly in ink, was a device of two -crossed knives of curious, crooked shape. The sign of the Camorra!</p> - -<p>I will not attempt to describe the effect of this sign upon me. It -may best be imagined, in view of what I have said of the incidents -preceding the murder of my father. It was the sign of an inexorable -fate, creeping nearer step by step, implacable, inevitable, and -mysterious. In little more than twelve hours after seeing that sign my -father had been a mangled corpse. One of the hotel servants passed as I -stood by the door, and I made shift to ask him if he knew anything of -the label. He looked at the paper, and then, more curiously, at me, but -he could offer no explanation. I spent little time over breakfast, and -then went by cab to Conduit Street. I paid my bill and took my bag with -me.</p> - -<p>Dorrington had gone to his office, but he had left a message that if -I called I was to follow him; and the office was in Bedford Street, -Covent Garden. I turned the cab in that direction forthwith.</p> - -<p>"Why," said Dorrington as we shook hands, "I believe you look a bit out -of sorts! Doesn't England agree with you?"</p> - -<p>"Well," I answered, "it has proved rather trying so far." And then I -described, in exact detail, my adventures as I have set them down here.</p> - -<p>Dorrington looked grave. "It's really extraordinary," he said, "most -extraordinary; and it isn't often that I call a thing extraordinary -neither, with my experience. But it's plain something must be -done—something to gain time at any rate. We're in the dark at present, -of course, and I expect I shall have to fish about a little before I -get at anything to go on. In the meantime I think you must disappear -as artfully as we can manage it." He sat silent for a little while, -thoughtfully tapping his forehead with his finger-tips. "I wonder," he -said presently, "whether or not those Italian fellows on the steamer -<i>are</i> in it or not. I suppose you haven't made yourself known anywhere, -have you?"</p> - -<p>"Nowhere. As you know, you've been with me all the time till you left -the moor, and since then I have been with nobody and called on nobody."</p> - -<p>"Now there's no doubt it's the Camorra," Dorrington said—"that's -pretty plain. I think I told you on the steamer that it was rather -wonderful that you had heard nothing of them after your father's death. -What has caused them all this delay there's no telling—they know -best themselves; it's been lucky for you, anyway, so far. What I'd -like to find out now is how they have identified you, and got on your -track so promptly. There's no guessing where these fellows get their -information—it's just wonderful; but if we can find out, then perhaps -we can stop the supply, or turn on something that will lead them into a -pit. If you had called anywhere on business and declared yourself—as -you might have done, for instance, at Mowbray's—I might be inclined to -suspect that they got the tip in some crooked way from there. But you -haven't. Of course, if those Italian chaps on the steamer <i>are</i> in it, -you're probably identified pretty certainly; but if they're not, they -may only have made a guess. We two landed together, and kept together, -till a day or two ago; as far as any outsider would know, I might be -Rigby and you might be Dorrington. Come, we'll work on those lines. I -think I smell a plan. Are you staying anywhere?"</p> - -<p>"No. I paid my bill at the hotel and came along here with my bag."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Now there's a house at Highgate kept by a very trustworthy -man, whom I know very well, where a man might be pretty comfortable -for a few days, or even for a week, if he doesn't mind staying indoors, -and keeping himself out of sight. I expect your friends of the Camorra -are watching in the street outside at this moment; but I think it will -be fairly easy to get you away to Highgate without letting them into -the secret, if you don't mind secluding yourself for a bit. In the -circumstances, I take it you won't object at all?"</p> - -<p>"Object? I should think not."</p> - -<p>"Very well, that's settled. You can call yourself Dorrington or not, as -you please, though perhaps it will be safest not to shout 'Rigby' too -loud. But as for myself, for a day or two at least I'm going to be Mr. -James Rigby. Have you your card-case handy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, here it is. But then, as to taking my name, won't you run serious -risk?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington winked merrily. "I've run a risk or two before now," he -said, "in course of my business. And if <i>I</i> don't mind the risk, you -needn't grumble, for I warn you I shall charge for risk when I send you -my bill. And I think I can take care of myself fairly well, even with -the Camorra about. I shall take you to this place at Highgate, and then -you won't see me for a few days. It won't do for me, in the character -of Mr. James Rigby, to go dragging a trail up and down between this -place and your retreat. You've got some other identifying papers, -haven't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have." I produced the letter from my Sydney lawyers to Mowbray, -and the deeds of the South Australian property from my bag.</p> - -<p>"Ah," said Dorrington, "I'll just give you a formal receipt for these, -since they're valuable; it's a matter of business, and we'll do it in -a business-like way. I may want something solid like this to support -any bluff I may have to make. A mere case of cards won't always act, -you know. It's a pity old Mowbray's out of town, for there's a way in -which he might give a little help, I fancy. But never mind—leave it -all to me. There's your receipt. Keep it snug away somewhere, where -inquisitive people can't read it."</p> - -<p>He handed me the receipt, and then took me to his partner's room -and introduced me. Mr. Hicks was a small, wrinkled man, older than -Dorrington, I should think, by fifteen or twenty years, and with all -the aspect and manner of a quiet old professional man.</p> - -<p>Dorrington left the room, and presently returned with his hat in his -hand. "Yes," he said, "there's a charming dark gentleman with a head -like a mop, and rings in his ears, skulking about at the next corner. -If it was he who looked in at your window, I don't wonder you were -startled. His dress suggests the organ-grinding interest, but he looks -as though cutting a throat would be more in his line than grinding a -tune; and no doubt he has friends as engaging as himself close at call. -If you'll come with me now I think we shall give him the slip. I have -a growler ready for you—a hansom's a bit too glassy and public. Pull -down the blinds and sit back when you get inside."</p> - -<p>He led me to a yard at the back of the building wherein the office -stood, from which a short flight of steps led to a basement. We -followed a passage in this basement till we reached another flight, and -ascending these, we emerged into the corridor of another building. Out -at the door at the end of this, and we passed a large block of model -dwellings, and were in Bedfordbury. Here a four-wheeler was waiting, -and I shut myself in it without delay.</p> - -<p>I was to proceed as far as King's Cross in this cab, Dorrington had -arranged, and there he would overtake me in a swift hansom. It fell out -as he had settled, and, dismissing the hansom, he came the rest of the -journey with me in the four-wheeler.</p> - -<p>We stopped at length before one of a row of houses, apparently recently -built—houses of the over-ornamented, gabled and tiled sort that abound -in the suburbs.</p> - -<p>"Crofting is the man's name," Dorrington said, as we alighted. "He's -rather an odd sort of customer, but quite decent in the main, and his -wife makes coffee such as money won't buy in most places."</p> - -<p>A woman answered Dorrington's ring—a woman of most extreme thinness. -Dorrington greeted her as Mrs. Crofting, and we entered.</p> - -<p>"We've just lost our servant again, Mr. Dorrington," the woman said in -a shrill voice, "and Mr. Crofting ain't at home. But I'm expecting him -before long."</p> - -<p>"I don't think I need wait to see him, Mrs. Crofting," Dorrington -answered. "I'm sure I can't leave my friend in better hands than yours. -I hope you've a vacant room?"</p> - -<p>"Well, for a friend of yours, Mr. Dorrington, no doubt we can find -room."</p> - -<p>"That's right. My friend Mr."—Dorrington gave me a meaning look—"Mr. -Phelps, would like to stay here for a few days. He wants to be quite -quiet for a little—do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, Mr. Dorrington, I understand."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, make him as comfortable as you can, and give him -some of your very best coffee. I believe you've got quite a little -library of books, and Mr. Phelps will be glad of them. Have you got any -cigars?" Dorrington added, turning to me.</p> - -<p>"Yes; there are some in my bag."</p> - -<p>"Then I think you'll be pretty comfortable now. Goodbye. I expect -you'll see me in a few days—or at any rate you'll get a message. -Meantime be as happy as you can."</p> - -<p>Dorrington left, and the woman showed me to a room upstairs, where I -placed my bag. In front, on the same floor, was a sitting-room, with, -I suppose, some two or three hundred books, mostly novels, on shelves. -The furniture of the place was of the sort one expects to find in an -ordinary lodging-house—horsehair sofas, loo tables, lustres, and so -forth. Mrs. Crofting explained to me that the customary dinner hour -was two, but that I might dine when I liked. I elected, however, to -follow the custom of the house, and sat down to a cigar and a book.</p> - -<p>At two o'clock the dinner came, and I was agreeably surprised to find -it a very good one, much above what the appointments of the house had -led me to expect. Plainly Mrs. Crofting was a capital cook. There -was no soup, but there was a very excellent sole, and some well-done -cutlets with peas, and an omelet; also a bottle of Bass. Come, I felt -that I should not do so badly in this place after all. I trusted that -Dorrington would be as comfortable in his half of the transaction, -bearing my responsibilities and troubles. I had heard a heavy, -blundering tread on the floor below, and judged from this that Mr. -Crofting had returned.</p> - -<p>After dinner I lit a cigar, and Mrs. Crofting brought her coffee. Truly -it was excellent coffee, and brewed as I like it—strong and black, -and plenty of it. It had a flavour of its own too, novel, but not -unpleasing. I took one cupful, and brought another to my side as I lay -on the sofa with my book. I had not read six lines before I was asleep.</p> - -<p>I woke with a sensation of numbing cold in my right side, a terrible -stiffness in my limbs, and a sound of loud splashing in my ears. All -was pitch dark, and—what was this? Water! Water all about me. I was -lying in six inches of cold water, and more was pouring down upon me -from above. My head was afflicted with a splitting ache. But where was -I? Why was it dark? And whence all the water? I staggered to my feet, -and instantly struck my head against a hard roof above me. I raised my -hand; there was the roof or whatever place it was, hard, smooth and -cold, and little more than five feet from the floor, so that I bent as -I stood. I spread my hand to the side; that was hard, smooth and cold -too. And then the conviction struck me like a blow—I was in a covered -iron tank, and the water was pouring in to drown me!</p> - -<p>I dashed my hands frantically against the lid, and strove to raise it. -It would not move. I shouted at the top of my voice, and turned about -to feel the extent of my prison. One way I could touch the opposite -sides at once easily with my hands, the other way it was wider—perhaps -a little more than six feet altogether. What was this? Was this to be -my fearful end, cooped in this tank while the water rose by inches -to choke me? Already the water was a foot deep. I flung myself at the -sides, I beat the pitiless iron with fists, face and head, I screamed -and implored. Then it struck me that I might at least stop the inlet -of water. I put out my hand and felt the falling stream, then found -the inlet and stopped it with my fingers. But water still poured in -with a resounding splash; there was another opening at the opposite -end, which I could not reach without releasing the one I now held! I -was but prolonging my agony. Oh, the devilish cunning that had devised -those two inlets, so far apart! Again I beat the sides, broke my nails -with tearing at the corners, screamed and entreated in my agony. I was -mad, but with no dulling of the senses, for the horrors of my awful, -helpless state, overwhelmed my brain, keen and perceptive to every -ripple of the unceasing water.</p> - -<p>In the height of my frenzy I held my breath, for I heard a sound from -outside. I shouted again—implored some quicker death. Then there was a -scraping on the lid above me, and it was raised at one edge, and let in -the light of a candle. I sprang from my knees and forced the lid back, -and the candle flame danced before me. The candle was held by a dusty -man, a workman apparently, who stared at me with scared eyes, and said -nothing but, "Goo' lor'!"</p> - -<p>Overhead were the rafters of a gabled roof, and tilted against them was -the thick beam which, jammed across from one sloping rafter to another, -had held the tank-lid fast. "Help me!" I gasped. "Help me out!"</p> - -<p>The man took me by the armpits and hauled me, dripping and half dead, -over the edge of the tank, into which the water still poured, making -a noise in the hollow iron that half drowned our voices. The man had -been at work on the cistern of a neighbouring house, and hearing an -uncommon noise, he had climbed through the spaces left in the party -walls to give passage along under the roofs to the builders' men. Among -the joists at our feet was the trap-door through which, drugged and -insensible, I had been carried, to be flung into that horrible cistern.</p> - -<p>With the help of my friend the workman I made shift to climb through -by the way he had come. We got back to the house where he had been at -work, and there the people gave me brandy and lent me dry clothes. I -made haste to send for the police, but when they arrived Mrs. Crofting -and her respectable spouse had gone. Some unusual noise in the roof -must have warned them. And when the police, following my directions -further, got to the offices of Dorrington and Hicks, those acute -professional men had gone too, but in such haste that the contents of -the office, papers and everything else, had been left just as they -stood.</p> - -<p>The plot was clear now. The followings, the footsteps, the face at -the window, the label on the door—all were a mere humbug arranged by -Dorrington for his own purpose, which was to drive me into his power -and get my papers from me. Armed with these, and with his consummate -address and knowledge of affairs, he could go to Mr. Mowbray in the -character of Mr. James Rigby, sell my land in South Australia, and -have the whole of my property transferred to himself from Sydney. -The rest of my baggage was at his rooms; if any further proof were -required it might be found there. He had taken good care that I should -not meet Mr. Mowbray—who, by the way, I afterwards found had not -left his office, and had never fired a gun in his life. At first I -wondered that Dorrington had not made some murderous attempt on me -at the shooting place in Scotland. But a little thought convinced me -that that would have been bad policy for him. The disposal of the -body would be difficult, and he would have to account somehow for my -sudden disappearance. Whereas, by the use of his Italian assistant and -his murder apparatus at Highgate I was made to efface my own trail, -and could be got rid of in the end with little trouble; for my body, -stripped of everything that might identify me, would be simply that -of a drowned man unknown, whom nobody could identify. The whole plot -was contrived upon the information I myself had afforded Dorrington -during the voyage home. And it all sprang from his remembering the -report of my father's death. When the papers in the office came to -be examined, there each step in the operations was plainly revealed. -There was a code telegram from Suez directing Hicks to hire a grouse -moor. There were telegrams and letters from Scotland giving directions -as to the later movements; indeed the thing was displayed completely. -The business of Dorrington and Hicks had really been that of private -inquiry agents, and they had done much <i>bonâ fide</i> business; but -many of their operations had been of a more than questionable sort. -And among their papers were found complete sets, neatly arranged in -dockets, each containing in skeleton a complete history of a case. -Many of these cases were of a most interesting character, and I have -been enabled to piece together, out of the material thus supplied, the -narratives which will follow this. As to my own case, it only remains -to say that as yet neither Dorrington, Hicks, nor the Croftings have -been caught. They played in the end for a high stake (they might have -made six figures of me if they had killed me, and the first figure -would not have been a one) and they lost by a mere accident. But I have -often wondered how many of the bodies which the coroners' juries of -London have returned to be "Found Drowned" were drowned, not where they -were picked up, but in that horrible tank at Highgate. What the drug -was that gave Mrs. Crofting's coffee its value in Dorrington's eyes I -do not know, but plainly it had not been sufficient in my case to keep -me unconscious against the shock of cold water till I could be drowned -altogether. Months have passed since my adventure, but even now I sweat -at the sight of an iron tank.</p> - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"><a name="THE_CASE_OF_JANISSARY" id="THE_CASE_OF_JANISSARY"><i>THE CASE OF JANISSARY</i></a></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">II</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus002.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - -<p class="center">I</p> - -<p>In this case (and indeed in most of the others) the notes and other -documents found in the dockets would, by themselves, give but a faint -outline of the facts, and, indeed, might easily be unintelligible -to many people, especially as for much of my information I have -been indebted to outside inquiries. Therefore I offer no excuse for -presenting the whole thing digested into plain narrative form, with -little reference to my authorities. Though I knew none of the actors -in it, with the exception of the astute Dorrington, the case was -especially interesting to me, as will be gathered from the narrative -itself.</p> - -<p>The only paper in the bundle which I shall particularly allude to was -a newspaper cutting, of a date anterior by nine or ten months to the -events I am to write of. It had evidently been cut at the time it -appeared, and saved, in case it might be useful, in a box in the form -of a book, containing many hundreds of others. From this receptacle it -had been taken, and attached to the bundle during the progress of the -case. I may say at once that the facts recorded had no direct concern -with the case of the horse Janissary, but had been useful in affording -a suggestion to Dorrington in connection therewith. The matter is the -short report of an ordinary sort of inquest, and I here transcribe it.</p> - -<p>"Dr. McCulloch held an inquest yesterday on the body of Mr. Henry -Lawrence, whose body was found on Tuesday morning last in the river -near Vauxhall Bridge. The deceased was well known in certain sporting -circles. Sophia Lawrence, the widow, said that deceased had left home -on Monday afternoon at about five, in his usual health, saying that he -was to dine at a friend's, and she saw nothing more of him till called -upon to identify the body. He had no reason for suicide, and so far as -witness knew, was free from pecuniary embarrassments. He had, indeed, -been very successful in betting recently. He habitually carried a -large pocket-book, with papers in it. Mr. Robert Naylor, commission -agent, said that deceased dined with him that evening at his house in -Gold Street, Chelsea, and left for home at about half-past eleven. He -had at the time a sum of nearly four hundred pounds upon him, chiefly -in notes, which had been paid him by witness in settlement of a bet. -It was a fine night, and deceased walked in the direction of Chelsea -Embankment. That was the last witness saw of him. He might not have -been perfectly sober, but he was not drunk, and was capable of taking -care of himself. The evidence of the Thames police went to show that -no money was on the body when found, except a few coppers, and no -pocket-book. Dr. William Hodgetts said that death was due to drowning. -There were some bruises on the arms and head which might have been -caused before death. The body was a very healthy one. The coroner said -that there seemed to be a very strong suspicion of foul play, unless -the pocket-book of the deceased had got out of his pocket in the water; -but the evidence was very meagre, although the police appeared to have -made every possible inquiry. The jury returned a verdict of 'Found -Drowned, though how the deceased came into the water there was no -evidence to show.'"</p> - -<p>I know no more of the unfortunate man Lawrence than this, and I have -only printed the cutting here because it probably induced Dorrington to -take certain steps in the case I am dealing with. With that case the -fate of the man Lawrence has nothing whatever to do. He passes out of -the story entirely.</p> - - -<p class="center">II</p> - -<p>Mr. Warren Telfer was a gentleman of means, and the owner of a -few—very few—racehorses. But he had a great knack of buying hidden -prizes in yearlings, and what his stable lacked in quantity it often -more than made up for in quality. Thus he had once bought a St. Leger -winner for as little as a hundred and fifty pounds. Many will remember -his bitter disappointment of ten or a dozen years back, when his horse, -Matfelon, starting an odds-on favourite for the Two Thousand, never -even got among the crowd, and ambled in streets behind everything. It -was freely rumoured (and no doubt with cause) that Matfelon had been -"got at" and in some way "nobbled." There were hints of a certain -bucket of water administered just before the race—a bucket of water -observed in the hands, some said of one, some said of another person -connected with Ritter's training establishment. There was no suspicion -of pulling, for plainly the jockey was doing his best with the animal -all the way along, and never had a tight rein. So a nobbling it must -have been, said the knowing ones, and Mr. Warren Telfer said so too, -with much bitterness. More, he immediately removed his horses from -Ritter's stables, and started a small training place of his own for his -own horses merely; putting an old steeplechase jockey in charge, who -had come out of a bad accident permanently lame, and had fallen on evil -days.</p> - -<p>The owner was an impulsive and violent-tempered man, who, once a -notion was in his head, held to it through everything, and in spite of -everything. His misfortune with Matfelon made him the most insanely -distrustful man alive. In everything he fancied he saw a trick, and -to him every man seemed a scoundrel. He could scarce bear to let the -very stable-boys touch his horses, and although for years all went as -well as could be expected in his stables, his suspicious distrust lost -nothing of its virulence. He was perpetually fussing about the stables, -making surprise visits, and laying futile traps that convicted nobody. -The sole tangible result of this behaviour was a violent quarrel -between Mr. Warren Telfer and his nephew Richard, who had been making -a lengthened stay with his uncle. Young Telfer, to tell the truth, was -neither so discreet nor so exemplary in behaviour as he might have -been, but his temper was that characteristic of the family, and when he -conceived that his uncle had an idea that he was communicating stable -secrets to friends outside, there was an animated row, and the nephew -betook himself and his luggage somewhere else. Young Telfer always -insisted, however, that his uncle was not a bad fellow on the whole, -though he had habits of thought and conduct that made him altogether -intolerable at times. But the uncle had no good word for his graceless -nephew; and indeed Richard Telfer betted more than he could afford, -and was not so particular in his choice of sporting acquaintances as a -gentleman should have been.</p> - -<p>Mr. Warren Telfer's house, "Blackhall," and his stables were little -more than two miles from Redbury, in Hampshire; and after the -quarrel Mr. Richard Telfer was not seen near the place for many -months—not, indeed, till excitement was high over the forthcoming -race for the Redbury Stakes, for which there was an entry from the -stable—Janissary, for long ranked second favourite; and then the -owner's nephew did not enter the premises, and, in fact, made his visit -as secret as possible.</p> - -<p>I have said that Janissary was long ranked second favourite for the -Redbury Stakes, but a little more than a week before the race he became -first favourite, owing to a training mishap to the horse fancied first, -which made its chances so poor that it might have been scratched at any -moment. And so far was Janissary above the class of the field (though -it was a two-year-old race, and there might be a surprise) that it -at once went to far shorter odds than the previous favourite, which, -indeed, had it run fit and well, would have found Janissary no easy -colt to beat.</p> - -<p>Mr. Telfer's nephew was seen near the stables but two or three days -before the race, and that day the owner despatched a telegram to the -firm of Dorrington & Hicks. In response to this telegram, Dorrington -caught the first available train for Redbury, and was with Mr. Warren -Telfer in his library by five in the afternoon.</p> - -<p>"It is about my horse Janissary that I want to consult you, Mr. -Dorrington," said Mr. Telfer. "It's right enough now—or at least was -right at exercise this morning—but I feel certain that there's some -diabolical plot on hand somewhere to interfere with the horse before -the Redbury Stakes day, and I'm sorry to have to say that I suspect -my own nephew to be mixed up in it in some way. In the first place I -may tell you that there is no doubt whatever that the colt, if let -alone, and bar accident, can win in a canter. He could have won even -if Herald, the late favourite, had kept well, for I can tell you that -Janissary is a far greater horse than anybody is aware of outside my -establishment—or at any rate, than anybody ought to be aware of, -if the stable secrets are properly kept. His pedigree is nothing -very great, and he never showed his quality till quite lately, in -private trials. Of course it has leaked out somehow that the colt is -exceptionally good—I don't believe I can trust a soul in the place. -How should the price have gone up to five to four unless somebody had -been telling what he's paid not to tell? But that isn't all, as I have -said. I've a conviction that something's on foot—somebody wants to -interfere with the horse. Of course we get a tout about now and again, -but the downs are pretty big, and we generally manage to dodge them -if we want to. On the last three or four mornings, however, wherever -Janissary might be taking his gallop, there was a big, hulking fellow, -with a red beard and spectacles—not so much watching the horse as -trying to get hold of the lad. I am always up and out at five, for I've -found to my cost—you remember about Matfelon—that if a man doesn't -want to be ramped he must never take his eye off things. Well, I have -scarcely seen the lad ease the colt once on the last three or four -mornings without that red-bearded fellow bobbing up from a knoll, or a -clump of bushes, or something, close by—especially if Janissary was -a bit away from the other horses, and not under my nose, or the head -lad's, for a moment. I rode at the fellow, of course, when I saw what -he was after, but he was artful as a cartload of monkeys, and vanished -somehow before I could get near him. The head lad believes he has seen -him about just after dark, too; but I am keeping the stable lads in -when they're not riding, and I suppose he finds he has no chance of -getting at them except when they're out with the horses. This morning, -not only did I see this fellow about, as usual, but, I am ashamed to -say, I observed my own nephew acting the part of a common tout. He -certainly had the decency to avoid me and clear out, but that was -not all, as you shall see. This morning, happening to approach the -stables from the back, I suddenly came upon the red-bearded man—giving -money to a groom of mine! He ran off at once, as you may guess, and I -discharged the groom where he stood, and would not allow him into the -stables again. He offered no explanation or excuse, but took himself -off, and half an hour afterward I almost sent away my head boy too. -For when I told him of the dismissal, he admitted that he had seen -that same groom taking money of my nephew at the back of the stables, -an hour before, and had not informed me! He said that he thought that -as it was 'only Mr. Richard' it didn't matter. Fool! Anyway, the groom -has gone, and, so far as I can tell as yet, the colt is all right. I -examined him at once, of course; and I also turned over a box that -Weeks, the groom, used to keep brushes and odd things in. There I found -this paper full of powder. I don't yet know what it is, but it's -certainly nothing he had any business with in the stable. Will you take -it?</p> - -<p>"And now," Mr. Telfer went on, "I'm in such an uneasy state that I want -your advice and assistance. Quite apart from the suspicious—more than -suspicious—circumstances I have informed you of, I am <i>certain</i>—I -know it without being able to give precise reasons—I am <i>certain</i> that -some attempt is being made at disabling Janissary before Thursday's -race. I feel it in my bones, so to speak. I had the same suspicion just -before that Two Thousand, when Matfelon was got at. The thing was in -the air, as it is now. Perhaps it's a sort of instinct; but I rather -think it is the result of an unconscious absorption of a number of -little indications about me. Be it as it may, I am resolved to leave no -opening to the enemy if I can help it, and I want you to see if you can -suggest any further precautions beyond those I am taking. Come and look -at the stables."</p> - -<p>Dorrington could see no opening for any piece of rascality by which he -might make more of the case than by serving his client loyally, so he -resolved to do the latter. He followed Mr. Telfer through the training -stables, where eight or nine thoroughbreds stood, and could suggest no -improvement upon the exceptional precautions that already existed.</p> - -<p>"No," said Dorrington, "I don't think you can do any better than -this—at least on this, the inner line of defence. But it is best to -make the outer lines secure first. By the way, <i>this</i> isn't Janissary, -is it? We saw him farther up the row, didn't we?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no, that's a very different sort of colt, though he does look like, -doesn't he? People who've been up and down the stables once or twice -often confuse them. They're both bays, much of a build, and about the -same height, and both have a bit of stocking on the same leg, though -Janissary's is bigger, and this animal has a white star. But you never -saw two creatures look so like and run so differently. This is a dead -loss—not worth his feed. If I can manage to wind him up to something -like a gallop I shall try to work him off in a selling plate somewhere; -but as far as I can see he isn't good enough even for that. He's a -disappointment. And his stock's far better than Janissary's too, and he -cost half as much again! Yearlings are a lottery. Still, I've drawn a -prize or two among them, at one time or another."</p> - -<p>"Ah yes, so I've heard. But now as to the outer defences I was speaking -of. Let us find out <i>who</i> is trying to interfere with your horse. Do -you mind letting me into the secrets of the stable commissions?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no. We're talking in confidence, of course. I've backed the colt -pretty heavily all round, but not too much anywhere. There's a good -slice with Barker—you know Barker, of course; Mullins has a thousand -down for him, and that was at five to one, before Herald went amiss. -Then there's Ford and Lascelles—both good men, and Naylor—he's the -smallest man of them all, and there's only a hundred or two with him, -though he's been laying the horse pretty freely everywhere, at least -until Herald went wrong. And there's Pedder. But there must have been a -deal of money laid to outside backers, and there's no telling who may -contemplate a ramp."</p> - -<p>"Just so. Now as to your nephew. What of your suspicions in that -direction?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I'm a little hasty as to that," Mr. Telfer answered, a -little ashamed of what he had previously said. "But I'm worried -and mystified, as you see, and hardly know what to think. My nephew -Richard is a little erratic, and he has a foolish habit of betting more -than he can afford. He and I quarrelled some time back, while he was -staying here, because I had an idea that he had been talking too freely -outside. He had, in fact; and I regarded it as a breach of confidence. -So there was a quarrel and he went away."</p> - -<p>"Very well. I wonder if I can get a bed at the 'Crown,' at Redbury? I'm -afraid it'll be crowded, but I'll try."</p> - -<p>"But why trouble? Why not stay with me, and be near the stables?"</p> - -<p>"Because then I should be of no more use to you than one of your lads. -People who come out here every morning are probably staying at Redbury, -and I must go there after them."</p> - - -<p class="center">III</p> - -<p>The "Crown" at Redbury was full in anticipation of the races, but -Dorrington managed to get a room ordinarily occupied by one of the -landlord's family, who undertook to sleep at a friend's for a night -or two. This settled, he strolled into the yard, and soon fell into -animated talk with the hostler on the subject of the forthcoming races. -All the town was backing Janissary for the Stakes, the hostler said, -and he advised Dorrington to do the same.</p> - -<p>During this conversation two men stopped in the street, just outside -the yard gate, talking. One was a big, heavy, vulgar-looking fellow in -a box-cloth coat, and with a shaven face and hoarse voice; the other -was a slighter, slimmer, younger and more gentlemanlike man, though -there was a certain patchy colour about his face that seemed to hint of -anything but teetotalism.</p> - -<p>"There," said the hostler, indicating the younger of these two men, -"that's young Mr. Telfer, him as whose uncle's owner o' Janissary. He's -a young plunger, he is, and he's on Janissary too. He give me the tip, -straight, this mornin'. 'You put your little bit on my uncle's colt,' -he said. 'It's all right. I ain't such pals with the old man as I was, -but I've got the tip that <i>his</i> money's down on it. So don't neglect -your opportunities, Thomas,' he says; and I haven't. He's stoppin' in -our house, is young Mr. Richard."</p> - -<p>"And who is that he is talking to? A bookmaker?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, that's Naylor—Bob Naylor. He's got Mr. Richard's bets. -P'raps he's puttin' on a bit more now."</p> - -<p>The men at the gate separated, and the bookmaker walked off down the -street in the fast gathering dusk. Richard Telfer, however, entered the -house, and Dorrington followed him. Telfer mounted the stairs and went -into his room. Dorrington lingered a moment on the stairs and then went -and knocked at Telfer's door.</p> - -<p>"Hullo!" cried Telfer, coming to the door and peering out into the -gloomy corridor.</p> - -<p>"I beg pardon," Dorrington replied courteously. "I thought this was -Naylor's room."</p> - -<p>"No—it's No. 23, by the end. But I believe he's just gone down the -street."</p> - -<p>Dorrington expressed his thanks and went to his own room. He took one -or two small instruments from his bag and hurried stealthily to the -door of No. 23.</p> - -<p>All was quiet, and the door opened at once to Dorrington's picklock, -for there was nothing but the common tumbler rim-lock to secure -it. Dorrington, being altogether an unscrupulous scoundrel, would -have thought nothing of entering a man's room thus for purposes of -mere robbery. Much less scruple had he in doing so in the present -circumstances. He lit the candle in a little pocket lantern, and, -having secured the door, looked quickly about the room. There was -nothing unusual to attract his attention, and he turned to two -bags lying near the dressing-table. One was the usual bookmaker's -satchel, and the other was a leather travelling-bag; both were locked. -Dorrington unbuckled the straps of the large bag, and produced a -slender picklock of steel wire, with a sliding joint, which, with a -little skilful "humouring," turned the lock in the course of a minute -or two. One glance inside was enough. There on the top lay a large -false beard of strong red, and upon the shirts below was a pair of -spectacles. But Dorrington went farther, and felt carefully below the -linen till his hand met a small, flat, mahogany box. This he withdrew -and opened. Within, on a velvet lining, lay a small silver instrument -resembling a syringe. He shut and replaced the box, and, having -rearranged the contents of the bag, shut, locked and strapped it, and -blew out his light. He had found what he came to look for. In another -minute Mr. Bob Naylor's door was locked behind him, and Dorrington took -his picklocks to his own room.</p> - -<p>It was a noisy evening in the Commercial Room at the "Crown." Chaff -and laughter flew thick, and Richard Telfer threatened Naylor with a -terrible settling day. More was drunk than thirst strictly justified, -and everybody grew friendly with everybody else. Dorrington, sober and -keenly alert, affected the reverse, and exhibited especial and extreme -affection for Mr. Bob Naylor. His advances were unsuccessful at first, -but Dorrington's manner and the "Crown" whisky overcame the bookmaker's -reserve, and at about eleven o'clock the two left the house arm in -arm for a cooling stroll in the High Street. Dorrington blabbed and -chattered with great success, and soon began about Janissary.</p> - -<p>"So you've pretty well done all you want with Janissary, eh? Book -full? Ah! nothing like keeping a book even all round—it's the safest -way—'specially with such a colt as Janissary about. Eh, my boy?" He -nudged Naylor genially. "Ah! no doubt it's a good colt, but old Telfer -has rum notions about preparation, hasn't he?"</p> - -<p>"I dunno," replied Naylor. "How do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Why, what does he have the horse led up and down behind the stable -for, half an hour every afternoon?"</p> - -<p>"Didn't know he did."</p> - -<p>"Ah! but he does. I came across it only this afternoon. I was coming -over the downs, and just as I got round behind Telfer's stables there -I saw a fine bay colt, with a white stocking on the off hind leg, well -covered up in a suit of clothes, being led up and down by a lad, like -a sentry—up and down, up and down—about twenty yards each way, and -nobody else about. 'Hullo!' says I to the lad, 'hullo! what horse is -this?' 'Janissary,' says the boy—pretty free for a stable-lad. 'Ah!' -says I. 'And what are you walking him like that for?' 'Dunno,' says the -boy, 'but it's guv'nor's orders. Every afternoon, at two to the minute, -I have to bring him out here and walk him like this for half an hour -exactly, neither more nor less, and then he goes in and has a handful -of malt. But I dunno why.' 'Well,' says I, 'I never heard of that being -done before. But he's a fine colt,' and I put my hand under the cloth -and felt him—hard as nails and smooth as silk."</p> - -<p>"And the boy let you touch him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; he struck me as a bit easy for a stable-boy. But it's an odd -trick, isn't it, that of the half-hour's walk and the handful of malt? -Never hear of anybody else doing it, did you?"</p> - -<p>"No, I never did."</p> - -<p>They talked and strolled for another quarter of an hour, and then -finished up with one more drink.</p> - - -<p class="center">IV</p> - -<p>The next was the day before the race, and in the morning Dorrington, -making a circuit, came to Mr. Warren Telfer's from the farther side. As -soon as they were assured of privacy: "Have you seen the man with the -red beard this morning?" asked Dorrington.</p> - -<p>"No; I looked out pretty sharply, too."</p> - -<p>"That's right. If you like to fall in with my suggestions, however, you -shall see him at about two o'clock, and take a handsome rise out of -him."</p> - -<p>"Very well," Mr. Telfer replied. "What's your suggestion?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you. In the first place, what's the value of that other -horse that looks so like Janissary?"</p> - -<p>"Hamid is his name. He's worth—well, what he will fetch. I'll sell him -for fifty and be glad of the chance."</p> - -<p>"Very good. Then you'll no doubt be glad to risk his health temporarily -to make sure of the Redbury Stakes, and to get longer prices for -anything you may like to put on between now and to-morrow afternoon. -Come to the stables and I'll tell you. But first, is there a place -where we may command a view of the ground behind the stables without -being seen?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, there's a ventilation grating at the back of each stall."</p> - -<p>"Good! Then we'll watch from Hamid's stall, which will be empty. Select -your most wooden-faced and most careful boy, and send him out behind -the stable with Hamid at two o'clock to the moment. Put the horse in a -full suit of clothes—it is necessary to cover up that white star—and -tell the lad he must <i>lead</i> it up and down slowly for twenty yards or -so. I rather expect the red-bearded man will be coming along between -two o'clock and half-past two. You will understand that Hamid is to -be Janissary for the occasion. You must drill your boy to appear a -bit of a fool, and to overcome his stable education sufficiently to -chatter freely—so long as it is the proper chatter. The man may ask -the horse's name, or he may not. Any way, the boy mustn't forget it is -Janissary he is leading. You have an odd fad, you must know (and the -boy must know it too) in the matter of training. This ridiculous fad is -to have your colt walked up and down for half an hour exactly at two -o'clock every afternoon, and then given a handful of malt as he comes -in. The boy can talk as freely about this as he pleases, and also about -the colt's chances, and anything else he likes; and he is to let the -stranger come up, talk to the horse, pat him—in short, to do as he -pleases. Is that plain?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly. You have found out something about this red-bearded chap -then?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes—it's Naylor the bookmaker, as a matter of fact, with a false -beard."</p> - -<p>"What! Naylor?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. You see the idea, of course. Once Naylor thinks he has nobbled -the favourite he will lay it to any extent, and the odds will get -longer. Then you can make him pay for his little games."</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, of course. Though I wouldn't put too much with Naylor in -any case. He's not a big man, and he might break and lose me the lot. -But I can get it out of the others."</p> - -<p>"Just so. You'd better see about schooling your boy now, I think. I'll -tell you more presently."</p> - -<p>A minute or two before two o'clock Dorrington and Telfer, mounted -on a pair of steps, were gazing through the ventilation grating of -Hamid's stall, while the colt, clothed completely, was led round. Then -Dorrington described his operations of the previous evening.</p> - -<p>"No matter what he may think of my tale," he said, "Naylor will be -pretty sure to come. He has tried to bribe your stablemen, and has been -baffled. Every attempt to get hold of the boy in charge of Janissary -has failed, and he will be glad to clutch at any shadow of a chance -to save his money now. Once he is here, and the favourite apparently -at his mercy, the thing is done. By the way, I expect your nephew's -little present to the man you sacked was a fairly innocent one. No -doubt he merely asked the man whether Janissary was keeping well, and -was thought good enough to win, for I find he is backing it pretty -heavily. Naylor came afterwards, with much less innocent intentions, -but fortunately you were down on him in time. Several considerations -induced me to go to Naylor's room. In the first place, I have heard -rather shady tales of his doings on one or two occasions, and he did -not seem a sufficiently big man to stand to lose a great deal over -your horse. Then, when I saw him, I observed that his figure bore a -considerable resemblance to that of the man you had described, except -as regards the red beard and the spectacles—articles easily enough -assumed, and, indeed, often enough used by the scum of the ring whose -trade is welshing. And, apart from these considerations, here, at -any rate, was one man who had an interest in keeping your colt from -winning, and here was his room waiting for me to explore. So I explored -it, and the card turned up trumps."</p> - -<p>As he was speaking, the stable-boy, a stolid-looking youngster, was -leading Hamid back and forth on the turf before their eyes.</p> - -<p>"There's somebody," said Dorrington suddenly, "over in that clump of -trees. Yes—our man, sure enough. I felt pretty sure of him after -you had told me that he hadn't thought it worth while to turn up this -morning. Here he comes."</p> - -<p>Naylor, with his red beard sticking out over the collar of his -big coat, came slouching along with an awkwardly assumed air of -carelessness and absence of mind.</p> - -<p>"Hullo!" he said suddenly, as he came abreast of the horse, turning as -though but now aware of its presence, "that's a valuable sort of horse, -ain't it, my lad?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the boy, "it is. He's goin' to win the Redbury Stakes -to-morrow. It's Janissary."</p> - -<p>"Oh! Janey Sairey, is it?" Naylor answered, with a quaint affectation -of gaping ignorance. "Janey Sairey, eh? Well, she do look a fine 'orse, -what I can see of 'er. What a suit o' clo'es! An' so she's one o' the -'orses that runs in races, is she? Well, I never! Pretty much like -other 'orses, too, to look at, ain't she? Only a bit thin in the legs."</p> - -<p>The boy stood carelessly by the colt's side, and the man approached. -His hand came quickly from an inner pocket, and then he passed it under -Hamid's cloths, near the shoulder. "Ah, it do feel a lovely skin, -to be sure!" he said. "An' so there's goin' to be races at Redbury -to-morrow, is there? I dunno anythin' about races myself, an'——Oo my!"</p> - -<p>Naylor sprang back as the horse, flinging back its ears, started -suddenly, swung round, and reared. "Lor," he said, "what a vicious -brute! Jist because I stroked her! I'll be careful about touching -racehorses again." His hand passed stealthily to the pocket again, and -he hurried on his way, while the stable-boy steadied and soothed Hamid.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus010.jpg" alt=" HORSE" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"THE HORSE STARTED SUDDENLY, SWUNG ROUND, AND REARED."</p> - -<p>Telfer and Dorrington sniggered quietly in their concealment. "He's -taken a deal of trouble, hasn't he?" Dorrington remarked. "It's a sad -case of the biter bit for Mr. Naylor, I'm afraid. That was a prick the -colt felt—hypodermic injection with the syringe I saw in the bag, no -doubt. The boy won't be such a fool as to come in again at once, will -he? If Naylor's taking a look back from anywhere, that may make him -suspicious."</p> - -<p>"No fear. I've told him to keep out for the half-hour, and he'll do it. -Dear, dear, what an innocent person Mr. Bob Naylor is! 'Well, I never! -Pretty much like other horses!' He didn't know there were to be -races at Redbury! 'Janey Sairey,' too—it's really very funny!"</p> - -<p>Ere the half-hour was quite over, Hamid came stumbling and dragging -into the stable yard, plainly all amiss, and collapsed on his litter as -soon as he gained his stall. There he lay, shivering and drowsy.</p> - -<p>"I expect he'll get over it in a day or two," Dorrington remarked. "I -don't suppose a vet. could do much for him just now, except, perhaps, -give him a drench and let him take a rest. Certainly, the effect will -last over to-morrow. That's what it is calculated for."</p> - - -<p class="center">V</p> - -<p>The Redbury Stakes were run at three in the afternoon, after two or -three minor events had been disposed of. The betting had undergone -considerable fluctuations during the morning, but in general it ruled -heavily against Janissary. The story had got about, too, that Mr. -Warren Telfer's colt would not start. So that when the numbers went up, -and it was seen that Janissary was starting after all, there was much -astonishment, and a good deal of uneasiness in the ring.</p> - -<p>"It's a pity we can't see our friend Naylor's face just now, isn't it?" -Dorrington remarked to his client, as they looked on from Mr. Telfer's -drag.</p> - -<p>"Yes; it would be interesting," Telfer replied. "He was quite confident -last night, you say."</p> - -<p>"Quite. I tested him by an offer of a small bet on your colt, asking -some points over the odds, and he took it at once. Indeed, I believe -he has been going about gathering up all the wagers he could about -Janissary, and the market has felt it. Your nephew has risked some more -with him, I believe, and altogether it looks as though the town would -spoil the 'bookies' badly."</p> - -<p>As the horses came from the weighing enclosure, Janissary was seen -conspicuous among them, bright, clean, and firm, and a good many faces -lengthened at the sight. The start was not so good as it might have -been, but the favourite (the starting-price had gone to evens) was not -left, and got away well in the crowd of ten starters. There he lay till -rounding the bend, when the Telfer blue and chocolate was seen among -the foremost, and near the rails. Mr. Telfer almost trembled as he -watched through his glasses.</p> - -<p>"Hang that Willett!" he said, almost to himself. "He's <i>too</i> clever -against those rails before getting clear. All right, though, all right! -He's coming!"</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus011.jpg" alt="THE WINNER" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"CAME IN THREE LENGTHS THE WINNER."</p> - -<p>Janissary, indeed, was showing in front, and as the horses came along -the straight it was plain that Mr. Telfer's colt was holding the field -comfortably. There were changes in the crowd; some dropped away, some -came out and attempted to challenge for the lead, but the favourite, -striding easily, was never seriously threatened, and in the end, being -a little let out, came in a three-lengths winner, never once having -been made to show his best.</p> - -<p>"I congratulate you, Mr. Telfer," said Dorrington, "and you may -congratulate me."</p> - -<p>"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Telfer hastily, hurrying off to lead -in the winner.</p> - -<p>It was a bad race for the ring, and in the open parts of the course -many a humble fielder grabbed his satchel ere the shouting was over, -and made his best pace for the horizon; and more than one pair of false -whiskers, as red as Naylor's, came off suddenly while the owner betook -himself to a fresh stand. Unless a good many outsiders sailed home -before the end of the week there would be a bad Monday for layers. But -all sporting Redbury was jubilant. They had all been "on" the local -favourite for the local race, and it had won.</p> - - -<p class="center">VI</p> - -<p>Mr. Bob Naylor "got a bit back," in his own phrase, on other races -by the end of the week, but all the same he saw a black settling day -ahead. He had been done—done for a certainty. He had realised this -as soon as he saw the numbers go up for the Redbury Stakes. Janissary -had not been drugged after all. That meant that another horse had -been substituted for him, and that the whole thing was an elaborate -plant. He thought he knew Janissary pretty well by sight, too, and -rather prided himself on having an eye for a horse. But clearly it was -a plant—a complete do. Telfer was in it, and so of course was that -gentlemanly stranger who had strolled along Redbury High Street with -him that night, telling that cock-and-bull story about the afternoon -walks and the handful of malt. There was a nice schoolboy tale to take -in a man who thought himself broad as Cheapside! He cursed himself high -and low. To be done, and to know it, was a galling thing, but this -would be worse. The tale would get about. They would boast of a clever -stroke like that, and that would injure him with everybody; with honest -men, because his reputation, as it was, would bear no worsening, and -with knaves like himself, because they would laugh at him, and leave -him out when any little co-operative swindle was in contemplation. But -though the chagrin of the defeat was bitter bad enough, his losses -were worse. He had taken everything offered on Janissary after he had -nobbled the wrong horse, and had given almost any odds demanded. Do as -he might, he could see nothing but a balance against him on Monday, -which, though he might pay out his last cent, he could not cover by -several hundred pounds.</p> - -<p>But on the day he met his customers at his club, as usual, and paid out -freely. Young Richard Telfer, however, with whom he was heavily "in," -he put off till the evening. "I've been a bit disappointed this morning -over some ready that was to be paid over," he said, "and I've used the -last cheque-form in my book. You might come and have a bit of dinner -with me to-night, Mr. Telfer, and take it then."</p> - -<p>Telfer assented without difficulty.</p> - -<p>"All right, then, that's settled. You know the place—Gold Street. -Seven sharp. The missis 'll be pleased to see you, I'm sure, Mr. -Telfer. Let's see—it's fifteen hundred and thirty altogether, isn't -it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that's it. I'll come."</p> - -<p>Young Telfer left the club, and at the corner of the street ran against -Dorrington. Telfer, of course, knew him but as his late fellow-guest -at the "Crown" at Redbury, and this was their first meeting in London -after their return from the races.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Telfer. "Going to draw a bit of Janissary money, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I haven't much to draw," Dorrington answered. "But I expect your -pockets are pretty heavy, if you've just come from Naylor."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I've just come from Naylor, but I haven't touched the merry sovs. -just yet," replied Telfer cheerfully. "There's been a run on Naylor, -and I'm going to dine with him and his respectable missis this evening, -and draw the plunder then. I feel rather curious to see what sort of -establishment a man like Naylor keeps going. His place is in Gold -Street, Chelsea."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I believe so. Anyhow, I congratulate you on your haul, and wish -you a merry evening." And the two men parted.</p> - -<p>Dorrington had, indeed, a few pounds to draw as the result of his -"fishing" bet with Naylor, but now he resolved to ask for the money -at his own time. This invitation to Telfer took his attention, and -it reminded him oddly of the circumstances detailed in the report of -the inquest on Lawrence, transcribed at the beginning of this paper. -He had cut out this report at the time it appeared, because he saw -certain singularities about the case, and he had filed it, as he had -done hundreds of other such cuttings. And now certain things led him to -fancy that he might be much interested to observe the proceedings at -Naylor's house on the evening after a bad settling-day. He resolved to -gratify himself with a strict professional watch in Gold Street that -evening, on chance of something coming of it. For it was an important -thing in Dorrington's rascally trade to get hold of as much of other -people's private business as possible, and to know exactly in what -cupboard to find every man's skeleton. For there was no knowing but -it might be turned into money sooner or later. So he found the number -of Naylor's house from the handiest directory, and at six o'clock, a -little disguised by a humbler style of dress than usual, he began his -watch.</p> - -<p>Naylor's house was at the corner of a turning, with the flank wall -blank of windows, except for one at the top; and a public-house stood -at the opposite corner. Dorrington, skilled in watching without -attracting attention to himself, now lounged in the public-house bar, -now stood at the street corner, and now sauntered along the street, -a picture of vacancy of mind, and looking, apparently, at everything -in turn, except the house at the corner. The first thing he noted was -the issuing forth from the area steps of a healthy-looking girl in -much gaily be-ribboned finery. Plainly a servant taking an evening -out. This was an odd thing, that a servant should be allowed out on an -evening when a guest was expected to dinner; and the house looked like -one where it was more likely that one servant would be kept than two. -Dorrington hurried after the girl, and, changing his manner of address -to that of a civil labourer, said—</p> - -<p>"Beg pardon, Miss, but is Mary Walker still in service at your 'ouse?"</p> - -<p>"Mary Walker?" said the girl. "Why, no. I never 'eard the name. And -there ain't nobody in service there but me."</p> - -<p>"Beg pardon—it must be the wrong 'ouse. It's my cousin, Miss, that's -all."</p> - -<p>Dorrington left the girl and returned to the public-house. As he -reached it he perceived a second noticeable thing. Although it was -broad daylight, there was now a light behind the solitary window at the -top of the side-wall of Naylor's house. Dorrington slipped through the -swing-doors of the public-house and watched through the glass.</p> - -<p>It was a bare room behind the high window—it might have been a -bathroom—and its interior was made but dimly visible from outside -by the light. A tall, thin woman was setting up an ordinary pair of -house-steps in the middle of the room. This done, she turned to the -window and pulled down the blind, and as she did so Dorrington noted -her very extreme thinness, both of face and body. When the blind -was down the light still remained within. Again there seemed some -significance in this. It appeared that the thin woman had waited until -her servant had gone before doing whatever she had to do in that room. -Presently the watcher came again into Gold Street, and from there -caught a passing glimpse of the thin woman as she moved busily about -the front room over the breakfast parlour.</p> - -<p>Clearly, then, the light above had been left for future use. Dorrington -thought for a minute, and then suddenly stopped, with a snap of the -fingers. He saw it all now. Here was something altogether in his way. -He would take a daring course.</p> - -<p>He withdrew once more to the public-house, and ordering another drink, -took up a position in a compartment from which he could command a view -both of Gold Street and the side turning. The time now, he saw by his -watch, was ten minutes to seven. He had to wait rather more than a -quarter of an hour before seeing Richard Telfer come walking jauntily -down Gold Street, mount the steps, and knock at Naylor's door. There -was a momentary glimpse of the thin woman's face at the door, and then -Telfer entered.</p> - -<p>It now began to grow dusk, and in about twenty minutes more Dorrington -took to the street again. The room over the breakfast-parlour was -clearly the dining-room. It was lighted brightly, and by intent -listening the watcher could distinguish, now and again, a sudden burst -of laughter from Telfer, followed by the deeper grunts of Naylor's -voice, and once by sharp tones that it seemed natural to suppose were -the thin woman's.</p> - -<p>Dorrington waited no longer, but slipped a pair of thick sock-feet over -his shoes, and, after a quick look along the two streets, to make sure -nobody was near, he descended the area steps. There was no light in the -breakfast-parlour. With his knife he opened the window-catch, raised -the sash quietly and stepped over the sill, and stood in the dark room -within.</p> - -<p>All was quiet, except for the talking in the room above. He had done -but what many thieves—"parlour-jumpers"—do every day; but there was -more ahead. He made his way silently to the basement passage, and -passed into the kitchen. The room was lighted, and cookery utensils -were scattered about, but nobody was there. He waited till he heard a -request in Naylor's gruff voice for "another slice" of something, and -noiselessly mounted the stairs. He noticed that the dining-room door -was ajar, but passed quickly on to the second flight, and rested on the -landing above. Mrs. Naylor would probably have to go downstairs once -or twice again, but he did not expect anybody in the upper part of the -house just yet. There was a small flight of stairs above the landing -whereon he stood, leading to the servant's bedroom and the bathroom. He -took a glance at the bathroom with its feeble lamp, its steps, and its -open ceiling-trap, and returned again to the bedroom landing. There he -stood, waiting watchfully.</p> - -<p>Twice the thin woman emerged from the dining-room, went downstairs and -came up again, each time with food and plates. Then she went down once -more, and was longer gone. Meantime Naylor and Telfer were talking and -joking loudly at the table.</p> - -<p>When once again Dorrington saw the crown of the thin woman's head -rising over the bottom stair, he perceived that she bore a tray set -with cups already filled with coffee. These she carried into the -dining-room, whence presently came the sound of striking matches. After -this the conversation seemed to flag, and Telfer's part in it grew less -and less, till it ceased altogether, and the house was silent, except -for a sound of heavy breathing. Soon this became almost a snore, and -then there was a sudden noisy tumble, as of a drunken man; but still -the snoring went on, and the Naylors were talking in whispers.</p> - -<p>There was a shuffling and heaving sound, and a chair was knocked over. -Then at the dining-room door appeared Naylor, walking backward, and -carrying the inert form of Telfer by the shoulders, while the thin -woman followed, supporting the feet. Dorrington retreated up the small -stair-flight, cocking a pocket revolver as he went.</p> - -<p>Up the stairs they came, Naylor puffing and grunting with the exertion, -and Telfer still snoring soundly on, till at last, having mounted the -top flight, they came in at the bathroom door, where Dorrington stood -to receive them, smiling and bowing pleasantly, with his hat in one -hand and his revolver in the other.</p> - -<p>The woman, from her position, saw him first, and dropped Telfer's legs -with a scream. Naylor turned his head and then also dropped his end. -The drugged man fell in a heap, snoring still.</p> - -<p>Naylor, astounded and choking, made as if to rush at the interloper, -but Dorrington thrust the revolver into his face, and exclaimed, -still smiling courteously, "Mind, mind! It's a dangerous thing, is a -revolver, and apt to go off if you run against it!"</p> - -<p>He stood thus for a second, and then stepped forward and took the -woman—who seemed like to swoon—by the arm, and pulled her into the -room. "Come, Mrs. Naylor," he said, "you're not one of the fainting -sort, and I think I'd better keep two such clever people as you under -my eye, or one of you may get into mischief. Come now, Naylor, we'll -talk business."</p> - -<p>Naylor, now white as a ghost, sat on the edge of the bath, and stared -at Dorrington as though in a fascination of terror. His hands rested on -the bath at each side, and an odd sound of gurgling came from his thick -throat.</p> - -<p>"We will talk business," Dorrington resumed. "Come, you've met me -before now, you know—at Redbury. You can't have forgotten Janissary, -and the walking exercise and the handful of malt. I'm afraid you're a -clumsy sort of rascal, Naylor, though you do your best. I'm a rascal -myself (though I don't often confess it), and I assure you that your -conceptions are crude as yet. Still, that isn't a bad notion in its -way, that of drugging a man and drowning him in your cistern up there -in the roof, when you prefer not to pay him his winnings. It has the -very considerable merit that, after the body has been fished out of any -river you may choose to fling it into, the stupid coroner's jury will -never suspect that it was drowned in any other water but that. Just as -happened in the Lawrence case, for instance. You remember that, eh? So -do I, very well, and it was because I remembered that that I paid you -this visit to-night. But you do the thing much too clumsily, really. -When I saw a light up here in broad daylight I knew at once it must be -left for some purpose to be executed later in the evening; and when -I saw the steps carefully placed at the same time, after the servant -had been sent out, why the thing was plain, remembering, as I did, the -curious coincidence that Mr. Lawrence was drowned the very evening he -had been here to take away his winnings. The steps <i>must</i> be intended -to give access to the roof, where there was probably a tank to feed -the bath, and what more secret place to drown a man than there? And -what easier place, so long as the man was well drugged, and there was a -strong lid to the tank? As I say, Naylor, your notion was meritorious, -but your execution was wretched—perhaps because you had no notion that -I was watching you."</p> - -<p>He paused, and then went on. "Come," he said, "collect your scattered -faculties, both of you. I shan't hand you over to the police for this -little invention of yours; it's too useful an invention to give away -to the police. I shan't hand you over, that is to say, as long as you -do as I tell you. If you get mutinous, you shall hang, both of you, -for the Lawrence business. I may as well tell you that I'm a bit of a -scoundrel myself, by way of profession. I don't boast about it, but -it's well to be frank in making arrangements of this sort. I'm going to -take you into my service. I employ a few agents, and you and your tank -may come in very handy from time to time. But we must set it up, with -a few improvements, in another house—a house which hasn't quite such -an awkward window. And we mustn't execute our little suppressions so -regularly on settling-day; it looks suspicious. So as soon as you can -get your faculties together we'll talk over this thing."</p> - -<p>The man and the woman had exchanged glances during this speech, and now -Naylor asked, huskily, jerking his thumb toward the man on the floor, -"An'—an' what about 'im?"</p> - -<p>"What about him? Why, get rid of him as soon as you like. Not that -way, though." (He pointed toward the ceiling trap.) "It doesn't pay -<i>me</i>, and I'm master now. Besides, what will people say when you tell -the same tale at his inquest that you told at Lawrence's? No, my -friend, bookmaking and murder don't assort together, profitable as the -combination may seem. Settling-days are too regular. And I'm not going -to be your accomplice, mind. You are going to be mine. Do what you -please with Telfer. Leave him on somebody's doorstep if you like."</p> - -<p>"But I owe him fifteen hundred, and I ain't got more than half of it! -I'll be ruined!"</p> - -<p>"Very likely," Dorrington returned placidly. "Be ruined as soon as -possible, then, and devote all your time to my business. You're not -to ornament the ring any longer, remember—you're to assist a private -inquiry agent, you and your wife and your charming tank. Repudiate the -debt if you like—it's a mere gaming transaction, and there is no legal -claim—or leave him in the street and tell him he's been robbed. Please -yourself as to this little roguery—you may as well, for it's the -last you will do on your own account. For the future your respectable -talents will be devoted to the service of Dorrington & Hicks, private -inquiry agents; and if you don't give satisfaction, that eminent firm -will hang you, with the assistance of the judge at the Old Bailey. So -settle your business yourselves, and quickly, for I've a good many -things to arrange with you."</p> - -<p>And, Dorrington watching them continually, they took Telfer out by the -side gate in the garden wall and left him in a dark corner.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thus I learnt the history of the horrible tank that had so nearly ended -my own life, as I have already related. Clearly the Naylors had changed -their name to Crofting on taking compulsory service with Dorrington, -and Mrs. Naylor was the repulsively thin woman who had drugged me with -her coffee in the house at Highgate. The events I have just recorded -took place about three years before I came to England. In the meantime -how many people, whose deaths might be turned to profit, had fallen -victims to the murderous cunning of Dorrington and his tools?</p> - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -<a name="III" id="III">THE CASE OF THE "MIRROR OF -PORTUGAL"</a> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph3">III</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus003.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - -<p class="center">I</p> - -<p>Whether or not this case has an historical interest is a matter of -conjecture. If it has none, then the title I have given it is a -misnomer. But I think the conjecture that some historical interest -attaches to it is by no means an empty one, and all that can be urged -against it is the common though not always declared error that romance -expired fifty years at least ago, and history with it. This makes it -seem improbable that the answer to an unsolved riddle of a century -since should be found to-day in an inquiry agent's dingy office in -Bedford Street, Covent Garden. Whether or not it has so been found -the reader may judge for himself, though the evidence stops far short -of actual proof of the identity of the "Mirror of Portugal" with the -stone wherewith this case was concerned.</p> - -<p>But first, as to the "Mirror of Portugal." This was a diamond of much -and ancient fame. It was of Indian origin, and it had lain in the -possession of the royal family of Portugal in the time of Portugal's -ancient splendour. But three hundred years ago, after the extinction -of the early line of succession, the diamond, with other jewels, fell -into the possession of Don Antonio, one of the half-dozen pretenders -who were then scrambling for the throne. Don Antonio, badly in want -of money, deposited the stone in pledge with Queen Elizabeth of -England, and never redeemed it. Thus it took its place as one of the -English Crown jewels, and so remained till the overthrow and death -of Charles the First. Queen Henrietta then carried it with her to -France, and there, to obtain money to satisfy her creditors, she sold -it to the great Cardinal Mazarin. He bequeathed it, at his death, to -the French Crown, and among the Crown jewels of France it once more -found a temporary abiding place. But once more it brought disaster -with it in the shape of a revolution, and again a king lost his head -at the executioner's hands. And in the riot and confusion of the -great Revolution of 1792 the "Mirror of Portugal," with other jewels, -vanished utterly. Where it went to, and who took it, nobody ever knew. -The "Mirror of Portugal" disappeared as suddenly and effectually as -though fused to vapour by electric combustion.</p> - -<p>So much for the famous "Mirror." Whether or not its history is germane -to the narrative which follows, probably nobody will ever certainly -know. But that Dorrington considered that it was, his notes on the case -abundantly testify.</p> - -<p>For some days before Dorrington's attention was in any way given -to this matter, a poorly-dressed and not altogether prepossessing -Frenchman had been haunting the staircase and tapping at the office -door, unsuccessfully attempting an interview with Dorrington, who -happened to be out, or busy, whenever he called. The man never asked -for Hicks, Dorrington's partner; but this was very natural. In the -first place, it was always Dorrington who met all strangers and -conducted all negotiations, and in the second, Dorrington had just -lately, in a case regarding a secret society in Soho, made his name -much known and respected, not to say feared, in the foreign colony of -that quarter; wherefore it was likely that a man who bore evidence of -residence in that neighbourhood should come with the name of Dorrington -on his tongue.</p> - -<p>The weather was cold, but the man's clothes were thin and threadbare, -and he had no overcoat. His face was of a broad, low type, coarse in -feature and small in forehead, and he wore the baggy black linen peaked -cap familiar on the heads of men of his class in parts of Paris. He had -called unsuccessfully, as I have said, sometimes once, sometimes more -frequently, on each of three or four days before he succeeded in seeing -Dorrington. At last, however, he intercepted him on the stairs, as -Dorrington arrived at about eleven in the morning.</p> - -<p>"Pardon, m'sieu," he said, laying his finger on Dorrington's arm, "it -is M. Dorrington—not?"</p> - -<p>"Well—suppose it is, what then?" Dorrington never admitted his -identity to a stranger without first seeing good cause.</p> - -<p>"I 'ave beesness—very great beesness; beesness of a large profit for -you if you please to take it. Where shall I tell it?"</p> - -<p>"Come in here," Dorrington replied, leading the way to his private -room. The man did not look like a wealthy client, but that signified -nothing. Dorrington had made profitable strokes after introductions -even less promising.</p> - -<p>The man followed Dorrington, pulled off his cap, and sat in the chair -Dorrington pointed at.</p> - -<p>"In the first place," said Dorrington, "what's your name?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yas—but before—all that I tell is for ourselves alone, is it -not? It is all in confidence, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, of course," Dorrington answered, with virtuous impatience. -"Whatever is said in this room is regarded as strictly confidential. -What's your name?"</p> - -<p>"Jacques Bouvier."</p> - -<p>"Living at——?"</p> - -<p>"Little Norham Street, Soho."</p> - -<p>"And now the business you speak of."</p> - -<p>"The beesness is this. My cousin, Léon Bouvier—he is <i>coquin</i>—a -rrrascal!"</p> - -<p>"Very likely."</p> - -<p>"He has a great jewel—it is, I have no doubt, a diamond—of a great -value. It is not his! There is no right of him to it! It should be -mine. If you get it for me one-quarter of it in money shall be yours! -And it is of a great value."</p> - -<p>"Where does your cousin live? What is he?"</p> - -<p>"Beck Street, Soho. He has a shop—a café—Café des Bons Camarades. And -he give me not a crrrust—if I starve!"</p> - -<p>It scarcely seemed likely that the keeper of a little foreign café in -a back street of Soho would be possessed of a jewel a quarter of whose -value would be prize enough to tempt Dorrington to take a new case up. -But Dorrington bore with the man a little longer. "What is this jewel -you talk of?" he asked. "And if you don't know enough about it to be -quite sure whether it is a diamond or not, what <i>do</i> you know?"</p> - -<p>"Listen! The stone I have never seen; but that it is a diamond makes -probable. What else so much value? And it is much value that gives my -cousin so great care and trouble—<i>cochon!</i> Listen! I relate to you. -My father—he was charcoal-burner at Bonneuil, department of Seine. -My uncle—the father of my cousin—also was charcoal-burner. The -grandfather—charcoal-burner also; and his father and his grandfather -before him—all burners of charcoal, at Bonneuil. Now perceive. The -father of my grandfather was of the great Revolution—a young man, -great among those who stormed the Bastille, the Tuileries, the Hôtel -de Ville, brave, and a leader. Now, when palaces were burnt and -heads were falling there was naturally much confusion. Things were -lost—things of large value. What more natural? While so many were -losing the head from the shoulders, it was not strange that some should -lose jewels from the neck. And when these things were lost, who might -have a greater right to keep them than the young men of the Revolution, -the brave, and the leaders, they who did the work?"</p> - -<p>"If you mean that your respectable great-grandfather stole something, -you needn't explain it any more," Dorrington said. "I quite understand."</p> - -<p>"I do not say stole; when there is a great revolution a thing is -anybody's. But it would not be convenient to tell of it at the time, -for the new Government might believe everything to be its own. These -things I do not know, you will understand—I suggest an explanation, -that is all. After the great Revolution, my great-grandfather lives -alone and quiet, and burns the charcoal as before. Why? The jewel is -too great to sell so soon. So he gives it to his son and dies. He also, -my grandfather, still burns the charcoal. Again, why? Because, as I -believe, he is too poor, too common a man to go about openly to sell -so great a stone. More, he loves the stone, for with that he is always -rich; and so he burns his charcoal and lives contented as his father -had done, and he is rich, and nobody knows it. What then? He has two -sons. When he dies, which son does he leave the stone to? Each one says -it is for himself—that is natural. I say it was for my father. But -however that may make itself, my father dies suddenly. He falls in a -pit—by accident, says his brother; not by accident, says my mother; -and soon after, she dies too. By accident too, perhaps you ask? Oh -yes, by accident too, no doubt." The man laughed disagreeably. "So I -am left alone, a little boy, to burn charcoal. When I am a bigger boy -there comes the great war, and the Prussians besiege Paris. My uncle, -he, burning charcoal no more, goes at night, and takes things from the -dead Prussians. Perhaps they are not always quite dead when he finds -them—perhaps he makes them so. Be that as it will, the Prussians take -him one dark night; and they stand him against a garden wall, and pif! -paf! they shoot him. That is all of my uncle; but he dies a rich man, -and nobody knows. What does his wife do? She has the jewel, and she -has a little money that has been got from the dead Prussians. So when -the war is over, she comes to London with my cousin, the bad Léon, -and she has the café—Café des Bons Camarades. And Léon grows up, and -his mother dies, and he has the café, and with the jewel is a rich -man—nobody knowing; nobody but me. But, figure to yourself; shall I -burn charcoal and starve at Bonneuil with a rich cousin in London—rich -with a diamond that should be mine? Not so. I come over, and Léon, at -first he lets me wait at the café. But I do not want that—there is the -stone, and I can never see it, never find it. So one day Léon finds me -looking in a box, and—chut! out I go. I tell Léon that I will share -the jewel with him or I will tell the police. He laughs at me—there is -no jewel, he says—I am mad. I do not tell the police, for that is to -lose it altogether. But I come here and I offer you one quarter of the -diamond if you shall get it."</p> - -<p>"Steal it for you, eh?"</p> - -<p>Jacques Bouvier shrugged his shoulders. "The word is as you please," -he said. "The jewel is not his. And if there is delay it will be gone. -Already he goes each day to Hatton Garden, leaving his wife to keep the -Café des Bons Camarades. Perhaps he is selling the jewel to-day! Who -can tell? So that it will be well that you begin at once."</p> - -<p>"Very well. My fee in advance will be twenty guineas."</p> - -<p>"What? <i>Dieu!</i>—I have no money, I tell you! Get the diamond, and there -is one quarter—twenty-five per cent.—for you!"</p> - -<p>"But what guarantee do you give that this story of yours isn't all -a hoax? Can you expect me to take everything on trust, and work for -nothing?"</p> - -<p>The man rose and waved his arms excitedly. "It is true, I say!" he -exclaimed. "It is a fortune! There is much for you, and it will pay! I -have no money, or you should have some. What can I do? You will lose -the chance if you are foolish!"</p> - -<p>"It rather seems to me, my friend, that I shall be foolish to give -valuable time to gratifying your cock-and-bull fancies. See here now. -I'm a man of business, and my time is fully occupied. You come here -and waste half an hour or more of it with a long rigmarole about some -valuable article that you say yourself you have never seen, and you -don't even know whether it is a diamond or not. You wander at large -over family traditions which you may believe yourself or may not. -You have no money, and you offer no fee as a guarantee of your <i>bonâ -fides</i>, and the sum of the thing is that you ask me to go and commit -a theft—to purloin an article you can't even describe, and then to -give you three-quarters of the proceeds. No, my man, you have made a -mistake. You must go away from here at once, and if I find you hanging -about my door again I shall have you taken away very summarily. Do you -understand? Now go away."</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> But——"</p> - -<p>"I've no more time to waste," Dorrington answered, opening the door and -pointing to the stairs. "If you stay here any longer you'll get into -trouble."</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus012.jpg" alt="BIG FOOL" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"SIR YOU ARE A VER' BIG FOOL—A FOOL!"</p> - -<p>Jacques Bouvier walked out, muttering and agitating his hands. At -the top stair he turned and, almost too angry for words, burst out, -"Sir—you are a ver' big fool—a fool!" But Dorrington slammed the -door.</p> - -<p>He determined, however, if he could find a little time, to learn a -little more of Léon Bouvier—perhaps to put a man to watch at the -Café des Bons Camarades. That the keeper of this place in Soho should -go regularly to Hatton Garden, the diamond market, was curious, and -Dorrington had met and analysed too many extraordinary romances to put -aside unexamined Jacques Bouvier's seemingly improbable story. But, -having heard all the man had to say, it had clearly been his policy -to get rid of him in the way he had done. Dorrington was quite ready -to steal a diamond, or anything else of value, if it could be done -quite safely, but he was no such fool as to give three-quarters of his -plunder—or any of it—to somebody else. So that the politic plan was -to send Jacques Bouvier away with the impression that his story was -altogether pooh-poohed and was to be forgotten.</p> - - -<p class="center">II</p> - -<p>Dorrington left his office late that day, and the evening being clear, -though dark, he walked toward Conduit Street by way of Soho; he thought -to take a glance at the Café des Bons Camarades on his way, without -being observed, should Jacques Bouvier be in the vicinity.</p> - -<p>Beck Street, Soho, was a short and narrow street lying east and -west, and joining two of the larger streets that stretch north and -south across the district. It was even a trifle dirtier than these -by-streets in that quarter are wont to be. The Café des Bons Camarades -was a little green-painted shop the window whereof was backed by -muslin curtains, while upon the window itself appeared in florid -painted letters the words "Cuisine Française." It was the only shop -in the street, with the exception of a small coal and firewood shed -at one end, the other buildings consisting of the side wall of a -factory, now closed for the night, and a few tenement houses. An alley -entrance—apparently the gate of a stable-yard—stood next the café. -As Dorrington walked by the steamy window, he was startled to hear -his own name and some part of his office address spoken in excited -tones somewhere in this dark alley entrance; and suddenly a man rather -well dressed, and cramming a damaged tall hat on his head as he went, -darted from the entrance and ran in the direction from which Dorrington -had come. A stoutly built Frenchwoman, carrying on her face every -indication of extreme excitement, watched him from the gateway, and -Dorrington made no doubt that it was in her voice that he had heard -his name mentioned. He walked briskly to the end of the short street, -turned at the end, and hurried round the block of houses, in hope -to catch another sight of the man. Presently he saw him, running, -in Old Compton Street, and making in the direction of Charing Cross -Road. Dorrington mended his pace, and followed. The man emerged where -Shaftesbury Avenue meets Charing Cross Road, and, as he crossed, -hesitated once or twice, as though he thought of hailing a cab, but -decided rather to trust his own legs. He hastened through the byways -to St. Martin's Lane, and Dorrington now perceived that one side and -half the back of his coat was dripping with wet mud. Also it was plain, -as Dorrington had suspected, that his destination was Dorrington's own -office in Bedford Street. So the follower broke into a trot, and at -last came upon the muddy man wrenching at the bell and pounding at the -closed door of the house in Bedford Street, just as the housekeeper -began to turn the lock.</p> - -<p>"M'sieu Dorrington—M'sieu Dorrington!" the man exclaimed, excitedly, -as the door was opened.</p> - -<p>"'E's gawn 'ome long ago," the caretaker growled; "you might 'a known -that. Oh, 'ere 'e is though—good evenin', sir."</p> - -<p>"I am Mr. Dorrington," the inquiry agent said politely. "Can I do -anything for you?"</p> - -<p>"Ah yes—it is important—at once! I am robbed!"</p> - -<p>"Just step upstairs, then, and tell me about it."</p> - -<p>Dorrington had but begun to light the gas in his office when his -visitor broke out, "I am robbed, M'sieu Dorrington, robbed by my -cousin—<i>coquin!</i> Rrrobbed of everything! Rrrobbed I tell you!" -He seemed astonished to find the other so little excited by the -intelligence.</p> - -<p>"Let me take your coat," Dorrington said, calmly. "You've had a downer -in the mud, I see. Why, what's this?" he smelt the collar as he went -toward a hat-peg. "Chloroform!"</p> - -<p>"Ah yes—it is that rrrascal Jacques! I will tell you. This evening I -go into the gateway next my house—Café des Bons Camarades—to enter -by the side-door, and—paf!—a shawl is fling across my face from -behind—it is pull tight—there is a knee in my back—I can catch -nothing with my hand—it smell all hot in my throat—I choke and I fall -over—there is no more. I wake up and I see my wife, and she take me -into the house. I am all muddy and tired, but I feel—and I have lost -my property—it is a diamond—and my cousin Jacques, he has done it!"</p> - -<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> - -<p>"Sure? Oh yes—it is certain, I tell you—certain!"</p> - -<p>"Then why not inform the police?"</p> - -<p>The visitor was clearly taken aback by this question. He faltered, -and looked searchingly in Dorrington's face. "That is not always the -convenient way," he said. "I would rather that you do it. It is the -diamond that I want—not to punish my cousin—thief that he is!"</p> - -<p>Dorrington mended a quill with ostentatious care, saying encouragingly -as he did so, "I can quite understand that you may not wish to -prosecute your cousin—only to recover the diamond you speak of. Also -I can quite understand that there may be reasons—family reasons -perhaps, perhaps others—which may render it inadvisable to make even -the existence of the jewel known more than absolutely necessary. For -instance, there may be other claimants, Monsieur Léon Bouvier."</p> - -<p>The visitor started. "You know my name then?" he asked. "How is that?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington smiled the smile of a sphinx. "M. Bouvier," he said, "it is -my trade to know everything—everything." He put the pen down and gazed -whimsically at the other. "My agents are everywhere. You talk of the -secret agent of the Russian police—they are nothing. It is my trade -to know all things. For instance"—Dorrington unlocked a drawer and -produced a book (it was but an office diary), and, turning its pages, -went on. "Let me see—B. It is my trade, for instance, to know about -the Café des Bons Camarades, established by the late Madame Bouvier, -now unhappily deceased. It is my trade to know of Madame Bouvier at -Bonneuil, where the charcoal was burnt, and where Madame Bouvier was -unfortunately left a widow at the time of the siege of Paris, because -of some lamentable misunderstanding of her husband's with a file -of Prussian soldiers by an orchard wall. It is my trade, moreover, -to know something of the sad death of that husband's brother—in -a pit—and of the later death of his widow. Oh yes. More" (turning -a page attentively, as though following detailed notes), "it is my -trade to know of a little quarrel between those brothers—it might -even have been about a diamond, just such a diamond as you have come -about to-night—and of jewels missed from the Tuileries in the great -Revolution a hundred years ago." He shut the book with a bang and -returned it to its place. "And there are other things—too many to talk -about," he said, crossing his legs and smiling calmly at the Frenchman.</p> - -<p>During this long pretence at reading, Bouvier had slid farther and -farther forward on his chair, till he sat on the edge, his eyes staring -wide, and his chin dropped. He had been pale when he arrived, but now -he was of a leaden gray. He said not a word.</p> - -<p>Dorrington laughed lightly. "Come," he said, "I see you are astonished. -Very likely. Very few of the people and families whose <i>dossiers</i> we -have here" (he waved his hand generally about the room) "are aware of -what we know. But we don't make a song of it, I assure you, unless -it is for the benefit of clients. A client's affairs are sacred, of -course, and our resources are at his disposal. Do I understand that -you become a client?"</p> - -<p>Bouvier sat a little farther back on his chair and closed his mouth. -"A—a—yes," he answered at length, with an effort, moistening his lips -as he spoke. "That is why I come."</p> - -<p>"Ah, now we shall understand each other," Dorrington replied genially, -opening an ink-pot and clearing his blotting-pad. "We're not connected -with the police here, or anything of that sort, and except so far as -we can help them we leave our client's affairs alone. You wish to be -a client, and you wish me to recover your lost diamond. Very well, -that is business. The first thing is the usual fee in advance—twenty -guineas. Will you write a cheque?"</p> - -<p>Bouvier had recovered some of his self-possession, and he hesitated. -"It is a large fee," he said.</p> - -<p>"Large? Nonsense! It is the sort of fee that might easily be swallowed -up in half a day's expenses. And besides—a rich diamond merchant like -yourself!"</p> - -<p>Bouvier looked up quickly. "Diamond merchant?" he said. "I do not -understand. I have lost my diamond—there was but one."</p> - -<p>"And yet you go to Hatton Garden every day."</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Bouvier, letting his hand fall from the table, "you know -that too?"</p> - -<p>"Of course," Dorrington laughed, easily; "it is my trade, I tell you. -But write the cheque."</p> - -<p>Bouvier produced a crumpled and dirty cheque-book and complied, with -many pauses, looking up dazedly from time to time into Dorrington's -face.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Dorrington, "tell me where you kept your diamond, and all -about it."</p> - -<p>"It was in an old little wooden box—so." Bouvier, not yet quite master -of himself, sketched an oblong of something less than three inches -long by two broad. "The box was old and black—my grandfather may have -made it, or his father. The lid fitted very tight, and the inside was -packed with fine charcoal powder with the diamond resting in it. The -diamond—oh, it was great; like that—so." He made another sketch, -roughly square, an inch and a quarter across. "But it looked even much -greater still, so bright, so wonderful! It is easy to understand that -my grandfather did not sell it—beside the danger. It is so beautiful -a thing, and it is such great riches—all in one little box. Why -should not a poor charcoal-burner be rich in secret, and look at his -diamond, and get all the few things he wants by burning his charcoal? -And there was the danger. But that is long ago. I am a man of beesness, -and I desired to sell it and be rich. And that Jacques—he has stolen -it!"</p> - -<p>"Let us keep to the point. The diamond was in a box. Well, where was -the box?"</p> - -<p>"On the outside of the box there were notches—so, and so. Round the -box at each place there was a tight, strong, silk cord—that is two -cords. The cords were round my neck, under my shirt, so. And the box -was under my arm—just as a boy carries his satchel, but high up—in -the armpit, where I could feel it at all times. To-night, when I come -to myself, my collar was broken at the stud—see—the cords were -cut—and all was gone!"</p> - -<p>"You say your cousin Jacques has done this. How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! But who else? Who else could know? And he has always tried to -steal it. At first, I let him wait at the Café des Bons Camarades. What -does he do? He prys about my house, and opens drawers; and I catch him -at last looking in a box, and I turn him out. And he calls me a thief! -<i>Sacré!</i> He goes—I have no more of him; and so—he does this!"</p> - -<p>"Very well. Write down his name and address on this piece of paper, and -your own." Bouvier did so. "And now tell me what you have been doing at -Hatton Garden."</p> - -<p>"Well, it was a very great diamond—I could not go to the first man and -show it to sell. I must make myself known."</p> - -<p>"It never struck you to get the stone cut in two, did it?"</p> - -<p>"Eh? What?—<i>Nom de chien!</i> No!" He struck his knee with his hand. -"Fool! Why did I not think of that? But still"—he grew more -thoughtful—"I should have to show it to get it cut, and I did not know -where to go. And the value would have been less."</p> - -<p>"Just so—but it's the regular thing to do, I may tell you, in cases -like this. But go on. About Hatton Garden, you know."</p> - -<p>"I thought that I must make myself known among the merchants of -diamonds, and then, perhaps, I should learn the ways, and one day be -able to sell. As it was, I knew nothing—nothing at all. I waited, and -I saved money in the café. Then, when I could do it, I dressed well -and went and bought some diamonds of a dealer—very little diamonds, -a little trayful for twenty pounds, and I try to sell them again. But -I have paid too much—I can only sell for fifteen pounds. Then I buy -more, and sell them for what I give. Then I take an office in Hatton -Garden—that is, I share a room with a dealer, and there is a partition -between our desks. My wife attends the café, I go to Hatton Garden -to buy and sell. It loses me money, but I must lose till I can sell -the great diamond. I get to know the dealers more and more, and then -to-night, as I go home——" he finished with an expressive shrug and a -wave of the hand.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I think I see," Dorrington said. "As to the diamond again. -It doesn't happen to be a <i>blue</i> diamond, does it?"</p> - -<p>"No—pure white; perfect."</p> - -<p>Dorrington had asked because two especially famous diamonds disappeared -from among the French Crown jewels at the time of the great Revolution. -One blue, the greatest coloured diamond ever known, and the other -the "Mirror of Portugal." Bouvier's reply made it plain that it was -certainly not the first which he had just lost.</p> - -<p>"Come," Dorrington said, "I will call and inspect the scene of your -disaster. I haven't dined yet, and it must be well past nine o'clock -now."</p> - -<p>They returned to Beck Street. There were gates at the dark entry by the -side of the Café des Bons Camarades, but they were never shut, Bouvier -explained. Dorrington had them shut now, however, and a lantern was -produced. The paving was of rough cobble stones, deep in mud.</p> - -<p>"Do many people come down here in the course of an evening?" Dorrington -asked.</p> - -<p>"Never anybody but myself."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Stand away at your side door."</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus013.jpg" alt="LANTERN" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption"> "DORRINGTON, WITH THE LANTERN, EXPLORED THE MUDDY COBBLE -STONES."</p> - -<p>Bouvier and his wife stood huddled and staring on the threshold of -the side door, while Dorrington, with the lantern, explored the muddy -cobble stones. The pieces of a broken bottle lay in a little heap, -and a cork lay a yard away from them. Dorrington smelt the cork, and -then collected together the broken glass (there were but four or five -pieces) from the little heap. Another piece of glass lay by itself a -little way off, and this also Dorrington took up, scrutinising it -narrowly. Then he traversed the whole passage carefully, stepping from -bare stone to bare stone, and skimming the ground with the lantern. The -mud lay confused and trackless in most places, though the place where -Bouvier had been lying was indicated by an appearance of sweeping, -caused, no doubt, by his wife dragging him to his feet. Only one other -thing beside the glass and cork did Dorrington carry away as evidence, -and that the Bouviers knew nothing of; for it was the remembrance of -the mark of a sharp, small boot-heel in more than one patch of mud -between the stones.</p> - -<p>"Will you object, Madame Bouvier," he asked, as he handed back the -lantern, "to show me the shoes you wore when you found your husband -lying out here?"</p> - -<p>Madame Bouvier had no objection at all. They were what she was then -wearing, and had worn all day. She lifted her foot and exhibited one. -There was no need for a second glance. It was a loose easy cashmere -boot, with spring sides and heels cut down flat for indoor comfort.</p> - -<p>"And this was at what time?"</p> - -<p>It was between seven and eight o'clock, both agreed, though they -differed a little as to the exact time. Bouvier had recovered when his -wife raised him, had entered the house with her, at once discovered -his loss, and immediately, on his wife's advice, set out to find -Dorrington, whose name the woman had heard spoken of frequently among -the visitors to the café in connection with the affair of the secret -society already alluded to. He had felt certain that Dorrington would -not be at his office, but trusted to be directed where to find him.</p> - -<p>"Now," Dorrington asked of Bouvier (the woman had been called away), -"tell me some more about your cousin. Where does he live?"</p> - -<p>"In Little Norham Street; the third house from this end on the right -and the back room at the top. That is unless he has moved just lately."</p> - -<p>"Has he been ill recently?"</p> - -<p>"Ill?" Bouvier considered. "Not that I can say—no. I have never heard -of Jacques being ill." It seemed to strike him as an incongruous and -new idea. "Nothing has made him ill all his life—he is too good in -constitution, I think."</p> - -<p>"Does he wear spectacles?"</p> - -<p>"Spectacles? <i>Mais non!</i> Never! Why should he wear spectacles? His eyes -are good as mine."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Now attend. To-morrow you must not go to Hatton Garden—I -will go for you. If you see your cousin Jacques you must say nothing, -take no notice; let everything proceed as though nothing had happened; -leave all to me. Give me your address at Hatton Garden."</p> - -<p>"But what is it you must do there?"</p> - -<p>"That is my business. I do my business in my own way. Still I will give -you a hint. Where is it that diamonds are sold? In Hatton Garden, as -you so well know—as I expect your cousin knows if he has been watching -you. Then where will your cousin go to sell it? Hatton Garden, of -course. Never mind what I shall do there to intercept it. I am to be -your new partner, you understand, bringing money into the business. You -must be ill and stay at home till you hear from me. Go now and write me -a letter of introduction to the man who shares the office with you. Or -I will write it if you like, and you shall sign it. What sort of a man -is he?"</p> - -<p>"Very quiet—a tall man, perhaps English, but perhaps not."</p> - -<p>"Ever buy or sell diamonds with him?"</p> - -<p>"Once only. It was the first time. That is how I learned of the -half-office to let."</p> - -<p>The letter was written, and Dorrington stuffed it carelessly into his -pocket. "Mr. Hamer is the name, is it?" he said. "I fancy I have met -him somewhere. He is short-sighted, isn't he?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, he is short-sighted. With <i>pince-nez</i>."</p> - -<p>"Not very well lately?"</p> - -<p>"No—I think not. He takes medicine in the office. But you will be -careful, eh? He must not know."</p> - -<p>"Do you think so? Perhaps I may tell him, though."</p> - -<p>"Tell him? <i>Ciel</i>—no! You must not tell people! No!"</p> - -<p>"Shall I throw the whole case over, and keep your deposit fee?"</p> - -<p>"No—no, not that. But it is foolish to tell to people!"</p> - -<p>"I am to judge what is foolish and what wise, M. Bouvier. Good evening!"</p> - -<p>"Good evening, M. Dorrington; good evening." Bouvier followed him out -to the gate. "And will you tell me—do you think there is a way to get -the diamond? Have you any plan?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, M. Bouvier, I have a plan. But, as I have said, that is my -business. It may be a successful plan, or it may not; that we shall -see."</p> - -<p>"And—and the <i>dossier</i>. The notes that you so marvellously have, -written out in the book you read. When this business is over you will -destroy them, eh? You will not leave a clue?"</p> - -<p>"The notes that I have in my books," answered Dorrington, without -relaxing a muscle of his face, "are my property, for my own purposes, -and were mine before you came to me. Those relating to you are a mere -item in thousands. So long as you behave well, M. Bouvier, they will -not harm you, and, as I said, the confidences of a client are sacred -to Dorrington & Hicks. But as to keeping them—certainly I shall. Once -more—good evening!"</p> - -<p>Even the stony-faced Dorrington could not repress a smile and something -very like a chuckle as he turned the end of the street and struck out -across Golden Square towards his rooms in Conduit Street. The simple -Frenchman, only half a rogue—even less than half—was now bamboozled -and put aside as effectually as his cousin had been. Certainly there -was a diamond, and an immense one; if only the Bouvier tradition were -true, probably the famous "Mirror of Portugal"; and nothing stood -between Dorrington and absolute possession of that diamond but an -ordinary sort of case such as he dealt with every day. And he had made -Bouvier pay a fee for the privilege of putting him completely on the -track of it! Dorrington smiled again.</p> - -<p>His dinner was spoilt by waiting, but he troubled little of that. He -spread before him, and examined again, the pieces of glass and the -cork. The bottle had been a druggist's ordinary flat bottle, graduated -with dose-marks, and altogether seven inches high, or thereabout. It -had, without a doubt, contained the chloroform wherewith Léon Bouvier -had been assaulted, as Dorrington had judged from the smell of the -cork. The fact of the bottle being corked showed that the chloroform -had not been bought all at once—since in that case it would have been -put up in a stoppered bottle. More probably it had been procured in -very small quantities (ostensibly for toothache, or something of that -kind) at different druggists, and put together in this larger bottle, -which had originally been used for something else. The bottle had -been distinguished by a label—the usual white label affixed by the -druggist, with directions as to taking the medicine—and this label -had been scraped off; all except a small piece at the bottom edge by -the right hand side, whereon might be just distinguished the greater -part of the letters N, E. The piece of glass that had lain a little way -apart from the bottle was not a part of it, as a casual observer might -have supposed. It was a fragment of a concave lens, with a channel -ground in the edge.</p> - - -<p class="center">III</p> - -<p>At ten precisely next morning, as usual, Mr. Ludwig Hamer mounted the -stairs of the house in Hatton Garden, wherein he rented half a room -as office. He was a tall, fair man, wearing thick convex <i>pince-nez</i>. -He spoke English like a native, and, indeed, he called himself an -Englishman, though there were those who doubted the Briticism of his -name. Scarce had he entered his office when Dorrington followed him.</p> - -<p>The room had never been a very large one, and now a partition divided -it in two, leaving a passage at one side only, by the window. On each -side of this partition stood a small pedestal table, a couple of -chairs, a copying-press, and the other articles usual in a meagrely -furnished office. Dorrington strode past Bouvier's half of the room -and came upon Hamer as he was hanging his coat on a peg. The letter -of introduction had been burnt, since Dorrington had only asked for -it in order to get Hamer's name and the Hatton Garden address without -betraying to Bouvier the fact that he did not already know all about it.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Mr. Hamer," said Dorrington, loudly. "Sorry to see -you're not well"—he pointed familiarly with his stick at a range of -medicine bottles on the mantelpiece—"but it's very trying weather, of -course. You've been suffering from toothache, I believe?"</p> - -<p>Hamer seemed at first disposed to resent the loudness and familiarity -of this speech, but at the reference to toothache he started suddenly -and set his lips.</p> - -<p>"Chloroform's a capital thing for toothache, Mr. Hamer, and for—for -other things. I'm not in your line of business myself, but I believe -it has even been used in the diamond trade."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Hamer, flushing angrily.</p> - -<p>"Mean? Why, bless me—nothing more than I said. By the way, I'm afraid -you dropped one of your medicine bottles last night. I've brought it -back, though I'm afraid it's past repair. It's a good job you didn't -quite clear the label off before you took it out with you, else I might -have had a difficulty." Dorrington placed the fragments on the table. -"You see you've just left the first letter of 'E.C.' in the druggist's -address, and the last 'N' of Hatton Garden, just before it. There -doesn't happen to be any other Garden in E.C. district that I know of, -nor does the name of any other thoroughfare end in N—they are mostly -streets, or lanes, or courts, you see. And there seems to be only one -druggist in Hatton Garden—capital fellow, no doubt—the one whose name -and address I observe on those bottles on the mantelpiece."</p> - -<p>Dorrington stood with his foot on a chair, and tapped his knee -carelessly with his stick. Hamer dropped into the other chair and -regarded him with a frown, though his face was pale. Presently he said, -in a strained voice, "Well?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; there <i>is</i> something else, Mr. Hamer, as you appear to suggest. -I see you're wearing a new pair of glasses this morning; pity you -broke the others last night, but I've brought the piece you left -behind." He gathered up the broken bottle, and held up the piece of -concave lens. "I think, after all, it's really best to use a cord with -<i>pince-nez</i>. It's awkward, and it catches in things, I know, but it -saves a breakage, and you're liable to get the glasses knocked off, you -know—in certain circumstances."</p> - -<p>Hamer sprang to his feet with a snarl, slammed the door, locked it, and -turned on Dorrington. But now Dorrington had a revolver in his hand, -though his manner was as genial as ever.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus014.jpg" alt="REVOLVER" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption"> "DORRINGTON HAD A REVOLVER IN HIS HAND."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," he said; "best to shut the door, of course. People listen, -don't they? But sit down again. I'm not anxious to hurt you, and, as -you will perceive, you're quite unable to hurt me. What I chiefly came -to say is this: last evening my client, M. Léon Bouvier, of this office -and the Café des Bons Camarades, was attacked in the passage adjoining -his house by a man who was waiting for him, with a woman—was it really -Mrs. Hamer? but there, I won't ask—keeping watch. He was robbed of -a small old wooden box, containing charcoal and—a diamond. My name is -Dorrington—firm of Dorrington & Hicks, which you may have heard of. -That's my card. I've come to take away that diamond."</p> - -<p>Hamer was pale and angry, but, in his way, was almost as calm as -Dorrington. He put down the card without looking at it. "I don't -understand you," he said. "How do you know I've got it?"</p> - -<p>"Come, come, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied, rubbing the barrel of his -revolver on his knee, "that's hardly worthy of you. You're a man of -business, with a head on your shoulders—the sort of man I like doing -business with, in fact. Men like ourselves needn't trifle. I've shown -you most of the cards I hold, though not all, I assure you. I'll tell -you, if you like, all about your little tour round among the druggists -with the convenient toothache, all about the evenings on which you -watched Bouvier home, and so on. But, really, need we, as men of the -world, descend to such peddling detail?"</p> - -<p>"Well, suppose I have got it, and suppose I refuse to give it you. What -then?"</p> - -<p>"What then? But why should we talk of unpleasant things? You won't -refuse, you know."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean you'd get it out of me by help of that pistol?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Dorrington, deliberately, "the pistol is noisy, and it -makes a mess, and all that, but it's a useful thing, and I <i>might</i> do -it with that, you know, in certain circumstances. But I wasn't thinking -of it—there's a much less troublesome way."</p> - -<p>"Which?"</p> - -<p>"You're a slower man than I took you for, Mr. Hamer—or perhaps you -haven't quite appreciated <i>me</i> yet. If I were to go to that window and -call the police, what with the little bits of evidence in my pocket, -and the other little bits that the druggists who sold the chloroform -would give, and the other bits in reserve, that I prefer not to talk -about just now—there would be rather an awkwardly complete case of -robbery with violence, wouldn't there? And you'd have to lose the -diamond after all, to say nothing of a little rest in gaol and general -ruination."</p> - -<p>"That sounds very well, but what about your client? Come now, you call -me a man of the world, and I am one. How will your client account for -the possession of a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds or so? He -doesn't seem a millionaire. The police would want to know about him as -well as about me, if you were such a fool as to bring them in. Where -did <i>he</i> steal it, eh?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington smiled and bowed at the question. "That's a very good -card to play, Mr. Hamer," he said, "a capital card, really. To a -superficial observer it might look like winning the trick. But I think -I can trump it." He bent farther forward and tapped the table with the -pistol-barrel. "Suppose I don't care one solitary dump what becomes of -my client? Suppose I don't care whether he goes to gaol or stays out of -it—in short, suppose I prefer my own interests to his?"</p> - -<p>"Ho! ho!" Hamer cried. "I begin to understand. You want to grab the -diamond for yourself then?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't said anything of the kind, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied, -suavely. "I have simply demanded the diamond which you stole last -night, and I have mentioned an alternative."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, yes, but we understand one another. Come, we'll arrange this. -How much do you want?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington stared at him stonily. "I—I beg your pardon," he said, "but -I don't understand. I want the diamond you stole."</p> - -<p>"But come now, we'll divide. Bouvier had no right to it, and he's out. -You and I, perhaps, haven't much right to it, legally, but it's between -us, and we're both in the same position."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me," Dorrington replied, silkily, "but there you mistake. We -are <i>not</i> in the same position, by a long way. You are liable to an -instant criminal prosecution. I have simply come, authorised by my -client, who bears all the responsibility, to demand a piece of property -which you have stolen. That is the difference between our positions, -Mr. Hamer. Come now, a policeman is just standing opposite. Shall I -open the window and call him, or do you give in?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I give in, I suppose," Hamer groaned. "But you're a deal too hard. -A man of your abilities shouldn't be so mean."</p> - -<p>"That's right and reasonable," Dorrington answered briskly. "The wise -man is the man who knows when he is beaten, and saves further trouble. -You may not find me so mean after all, but I must have the stone first. -I hold the trumps, and I'm not going to let the other player make -conditions. Where's the diamond?"</p> - -<p>"It isn't here—it's at home. You'll have to get it out of Mrs. Hamer. -Shall I go and wire to her?"</p> - -<p>"No, no," said Dorrington, "that's not the way. We'll just go -together, and take Mrs. Hamer by surprise, I think. I mustn't let you -out of sight, you know. Come, we'll get a hansom. Is it far?"</p> - -<p>"Bessborough Street, Pimlico. You'll find Mrs. Hamer has a temper of -her own."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, we all have our failings. But before we start, now, -observe." For a moment Dorrington was stern and menacing. "You wriggled -a little at first, but that was quite natural. Now you've given in; -and at the first sign of another wriggle I stop it once and for all. -Understand? No tricks, now."</p> - -<p>They entered a hansom at the door. Hamer was moody and silent at first, -but under the influence of Dorrington's gay talk he opened out after -a while. "Well," he said, "you're far the cleverest of the three, no -doubt, and perhaps in that way you deserve to win. It's mighty smart -for you to come in like this, and push Bouvier on one side and me on -the other, and both of us helpless. But it's rough on me after having -all the trouble."</p> - -<p>"Don't be a bad loser, man!" Dorrington answered. "You might have had a -deal more trouble and a deal more roughness too, I assure you."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, so I might. I'm not grumbling. But there's one thing has -puzzled me all along. Where did Bouvier get that stone from?"</p> - -<p>"He inherited it. It's the most important of the family jewels, I -assure you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, skittles! I might have known you wouldn't tell me, even if you -knew yourself. But I should like to know. What sort of a duffer must -it have been that let Bouvier do him for that big stone—Bouvier of -all men in the world? Why, he was a record flat himself—couldn't tell -a diamond from a glass marble, I should think. Why, he used to buy -peddling little trays of rotters in the Garden at twice their value! -And then he'd sell them for what he could get. I knew very well he -wasn't going on systematically dropping money like that for no reason -at all. He had some axe to grind, that was plain. And after a while he -got asking timid questions as to the sale of big diamonds, and how it -was done, and who bought them, and all that. That put me on it at once. -All this buying and selling at a loss was a blind. He wanted to get -into the trade to sell stolen diamonds, that was clear; and there was -some value in them too, else he couldn't afford to waste months of time -and lose money every day over it. So I kept my eye on him. I noticed, -when he put his overcoat on, and thought I wasn't looking, he would -settle a string of some sort round his neck, under his shirt-collar, -and feel to pack up something close under his armpit. Then I just -watched him home, and saw the sort of shanty he lived in. I mentioned -these things to Mrs. H., and she was naturally indignant at the idea of -a chap like Bouvier having something valuable in a dishonest way, and -agreed with me that if possible it ought to be got from him, if only -in the interests of virtue." Hamer laughed jerkily. "So at any rate we -determined to get a look at whatever it was hanging round his neck, and -we made the arrangements you know about. It seemed to me that Bouvier -was pretty sure to lose it before long, one way or another, if it had -any value at all, to judge by the way he was done in other matters. -But I assure you I nearly fell down like Bouvier himself when I saw -what it was. No wonder we left the bottle behind where I'd dropped it, -after soaking the shawl—I wonder I didn't leave the shawl itself, and -my hat, and everything. I assure you we sat up half last night looking -at that wonderful stone!"</p> - -<p>"No doubt. I shall have a good look at it myself, I assure you. Here is -Bessborough Street. Which is the number?"</p> - -<p>They alighted, and entered a house rather smaller than those about it. -"Ask Mrs. Hamer to come here," said Hamer, gloomily, to the servant.</p> - -<p>The men sat in the drawing-room. Presently Mrs. Hamer entered—a -shortish, sharp, keen-eyed woman of forty-five. "This is Mr. -Dorrington," said Hamer, "of Dorrington & Hicks, private detectives. He -wants us to give him that diamond."</p> - -<p>The little woman gave a sort of involuntary bounce, and exclaimed. -"What? Diamond? What d'ye mean?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's no good, Maria," Hamer answered dolefully. "I've tried it -every way myself. One comfort is we're safe, as long as we give it -up. Here," he added, turning to Dorrington, "show her some of your -evidence—that'll convince her."</p> - -<p>Very politely Dorrington brought forth, with full explanations, the -cork and the broken glass; while Mrs. Hamer, biting hard at her thin -lips, grew shinier and redder in the face every moment, and her hard -gray eyes flashed fury.</p> - -<p>"And you let this man," she burst out to her husband, when Dorrington -had finished, "you let this man leave your office with these things in -his possession after he had shown them to you, and you as big as he is, -and bigger! Coward!"</p> - -<p>"My dear, you don't appreciate Mr. Dorrington's forethought, hang it! I -made preparations for the very line of action you recommend, but he was -ready. He brought out a very well kept revolver, and he has it in his -pocket now!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hamer only glared, speechless with anger.</p> - -<p>"You might just get Mr. Dorrington a whisky and soda, Maria," Hamer -pursued, with a slight lift of the eyebrows which he did not intend -Dorrington to see. The woman was on her feet in a moment.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, no," interposed Dorrington, rising also, "I won't trouble -you. I'd rather not drink anything just now, and, although I fear I -may appear rude, I can't allow either of you to leave the room. In -short," he added, "I must stay with you both till I get the diamond."</p> - -<p>"And this man Bouvier," asked Mrs. Hamer, "what is his right to the -stone?"</p> - -<p>"Really, I don't feel competent to offer an opinion, do you know," -Dorrington answered sweetly. "To tell the truth, M. Bouvier doesn't -interest me very much."</p> - -<p>"No go, Maria!" growled Hamer. "I've tried it all. The fact is we've -got to give Dorrington the diamond. If we don't he'll just call in the -police—then we shall lose diamond and everything else too. He doesn't -care what becomes of Bouvier. He's got us, that's what it is. He won't -even bargain to give us a share."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hamer looked quickly up. "Oh, but that's nonsense!" she said. -"We've got the thing. We ought at least to say halves."</p> - -<p>Her sharp eyes searched Dorrington's face, but there was no -encouragement in it. "I am sorry to disappoint a lady," he said, "but -this time it is my business to impose terms, not to submit to them. -Come, the diamond!"</p> - -<p>"Well, you'll give us something, surely?" the woman cried.</p> - -<p>"Nothing is sure, madam, except that you will give me that diamond, or -face a policeman in five minutes!"</p> - -<p>The woman realised her helplessness. "Well," she said, "much good may -it do you. You'll have to come and get it—I'm keeping it somewhere -else. I'll go and get my hat."</p> - -<p>Again Dorrington interposed. "I think we'll send your servant for the -hat," he said, reaching for the bell-rope. "I'll come wherever you -like, but I shall not leave you till this affair is settled, I promise -you. And, as I reminded your husband a little time ago, you'll find -tricks come expensive."</p> - -<p>The servant brought Mrs. Hamer's hat and cloak, and that lady put them -on, her eyes ablaze with anger. Dorrington made the pair walk before -him to the front door, and followed them into the street. "Now," he -said, "where is this place? Remember, no tricks!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hamer turned towards Vauxhall Bridge. "It's just over by Upper -Kennington Lane," she said. "Not far."</p> - -<p>She paced out before them, Dorrington and Hamer following, the former -affable and business-like, the latter apparently a little puzzled. -When they came about the middle of the bridge, the woman turned -suddenly. "Come, Mr. Dorrington," she said, in a more subdued voice -than she had yet used, "I give in. It's no use trying to shake you off, -I can see. I have the diamond with me. Here."</p> - -<p>She put a little old black wooden box in his hand. He made to open -the lid, which fitted tightly, and at that moment the woman, pulling -her other hand free from under her cloak, flung away over the parapet -something that shone like fifty points of electric light.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus015.jpg" alt="DIAMOND" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"THERE'S YOUR DIAMOND, YOU DIRTY THIEF!"</p> - -<p>"There it goes!" she screamed aloud, pointing with her finger. "There's -your diamond, you dirty thief! You bully! Go after it now, you spy!"</p> - -<p>The great diamond made a curve of glitter and disappeared into the -river.</p> - -<p>For the moment Dorrington lost his cool temper. He seized the woman by -the arm. "Do you know what you've done, you wild cat?" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do!" the woman screamed, almost foaming with passion, while -boys began to collect, though there had been but few people on the -bridge. "Yes, I do! And now you can do what you please, you thief! you -bully!"</p> - -<p>Dorrington was calm again in a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and -turned away. Hamer was frightened. He came at Dorrington's side and -faltered, "I—I told you she had a temper. What will you do?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington forced a laugh. "Oh, nothing," he said. "What can I do? -Locking you up now wouldn't fetch the diamond back. And besides I'm -not sure that Mrs. Hamer won't attend to your punishment faithfully -enough." And he walked briskly away.</p> - -<p>"What did she do, Bill?" asked one boy of another.</p> - -<p>"Why, didn't ye see? She chucked that man's watch in the river."</p> - -<p>"Garn! that wasn't his watch!" interrupted a third, "it was a little -glass tumbler. I see it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Have you got my diamond?" asked the agonised Léon Bouvier of -Dorrington a day later.</p> - -<p>"No, I have not," Dorrington replied drily. "Nor has your cousin -Jacques. But I know where it is, and you can get it as easily as I."</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> Where?"</p> - -<p>"At the bottom of the river Thames, exactly in the centre, rather to -the right of Vauxhall Bridge, looking from this side. I expect it will -be rediscovered in some future age, when the bed of the Thames is a -diamond field."</p> - -<p>The rest of Bouvier's savings went in the purchase of a boat, and -in this, with a pail on a long rope, he was very busy for some time -afterward. But he only got a great deal of mud into his boat.</p> - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"><a name="IV" id="IV"> -<i>THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE -BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED"</i></a> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph3">IV</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus004.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - -<p class="center">I</p> - -<p>Cycle companies were in the market everywhere. Immense fortunes were -being made in a few days and sometimes little fortunes were being -lost to build them up. Mining shares were dull for a season, and any -company with the word "cycle" or "tyre" in its title was certain to -attract capital, no matter what its prospects were like in the eyes -of the expert. All the old private cycle companies suddenly were -offered to the public, and their proprietors, already rich men, built -themselves houses on the Riviera, bought yachts, ran racehorses, and -left business for ever. Sometimes the shareholders got their money's -worth, sometimes more, sometimes less—sometimes they got nothing -but total loss; but still the game went on. One could never open a -newspaper without finding, displayed at large, the prospectus of yet -another cycle company with capital expressed in six figures at least, -often in seven. Solemn old dailies, into whose editorial heads no -new thing ever found its way till years after it had been forgotten -elsewhere, suddenly exhibited the scandalous phenomenon of "broken -columns" in their advertising sections, and the universal prospectuses -stretched outrageously across half or even all the page—a thing to -cause apoplexy in the bodily system of any self-respecting manager of -the old school.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this excitement it chanced that the firm of Dorrington -& Hicks were engaged upon an investigation for the famous and -long-established "Indestructible Bicycle and Tricycle Manufacturing -Company," of London and Coventry. The matter was not one of sufficient -intricacy or difficulty to engage Dorrington's personal attention, -and it was given to an assistant. There was some doubt as to the -validity of a certain patent having reference to a particular method -of tightening the spokes and truing the wheels of a bicycle, and -Dorrington's assistant had to make inquiries (without attracting -attention to the matter) as to whether or not there existed any -evidence, either documentary or in the memory of veterans, of the -use of this method, or anything like it, before the year 1885. The -assistant completed his inquiries and made his report to Dorrington. -Now I think I have said that, from every evidence I have seen, the -chief matter of Dorrington's solicitude was his own interest, and just -at this time he had heard, as had others, much of the money being made -in cycle companies. Also, like others, he had conceived a great desire -to get the confidential advice of somebody "in the know"—advice which -might lead him into the "good thing" desired by all the greedy who -flutter about at the outside edge of the stock and share market. For -this reason Dorrington determined to make this small matter of the -wheel patent an affair of personal report. He was a man of infinite -resource, plausibility and good-companionship, and there was money -going in the cycle trade. Why then should he lose an opportunity -of making himself pleasant in the inner groves of that trade, and -catch whatever might come his way—information, syndicate shares, -directorships, anything? So that Dorrington made himself master of -his assistant's information, and proceeded to the head office of the -"Indestructible" company on Holborn Viaduct, resolved to become the -entertaining acquaintance of the managing director.</p> - -<p>On his way his attention was attracted by a very elaborately fitted -cycle shop, which his recollection told him was new. "The Avalanche -Bicycle and Tyre Company" was the legend gilt above the great -plate-glass window, and in the window itself stood many brilliantly -enamelled and plated bicycles, each labelled on the frame with the -flaming red and gold transfer of the firm; and in the midst of all was -another bicycle covered with dried mud, of which, however, sufficient -had been carefully cleared away to expose a similar glaring transfer -to those that decorated the rest—with a placard announcing that on -this particular machine somebody had ridden some incredible distance on -bad roads in very little more than no time at all. A crowd stood about -the window and gaped respectfully at the placard, the bicycles, the -transfers, and the mud, though they paid little attention to certain -piles of folded white papers, endorsed in bold letters with the name -of the company, with the suffix "limited" and the word "prospectus" -in bloated black letter below. These, however, Dorrington observed at -once, for he had himself that morning, in common with several thousand -other people, received one by post. Also half a page of his morning -paper had been filled with a copy of that same prospectus, and the -afternoon had brought another copy in the evening paper. In the list of -directors there was a titled name or two, together with a few unknown -names—doubtless the "practical men." And below this list there were -such positive promises of tremendous dividends, backed up and proved -beyond dispute by such ingenious piles of business-like figures, every -line of figures referring to some other line for testimonials to its -perfect genuineness and accuracy, that any reasonable man, it would -seem, must instantly sell the hat off his head and the boots off his -feet to buy one share at least, and so make his fortune for ever. -True, the business was but lately established, but that was just it. -It had rushed ahead with such amazing rapidity (as was natural with an -avalanche) that it had got altogether out of hand, and orders couldn't -be executed at all; wherefore the proprietors were reluctantly -compelled to let the public have some of the luck. This was Thursday. -The share list was to be opened on Monday morning and closed inexorably -at four o'clock on Tuesday afternoon, with a merciful extension to -Wednesday morning for the candidates for wealth who were so unfortunate -as to live in the country. So that it behoved everybody to waste no -time lest he be numbered among the unlucky whose subscription-money -should be returned in full, failing allotment. The prospectus did not -absolutely say it in so many words, but no rational person could fail -to feel that the directors were fervently hoping that nobody would get -injured in the rush.</p> - -<p>Dorrington passed on and reached the well-known establishment of the -"Indestructible Bicycle Company." This was already a limited company of -a private sort, and had been so for ten years or more. And before that -the concern had had eight or nine years of prosperous experience. The -founder of the firm, Mr. Paul Mallows, was now the managing director, -and a great pillar of the cycling industry. Dorrington gave a clerk his -card, and asked to see Mr. Mallows.</p> - -<p>Mr. Mallows was out, it seemed, but Mr. Stedman, the secretary, was -in, and him Dorrington saw. Mr. Stedman was a pleasant, youngish man, -who had been a famous amateur bicyclist in his time, and was still an -enthusiast. In ten minutes business was settled and dismissed, and -Dorrington's tact had brought the secretary into a pleasant discursive -chat, with much exchange of anecdote. Dorrington expressed much -interest in the subject of bicycling, and, seeing that Stedman had been -a racing man, particularly as to bicycling races.</p> - -<p>"There'll be a rare good race on Saturday, I expect," Stedman said. "Or -rather," he went on, "I expect the fifty miles record will go. I fancy -our man Gillett is pretty safe to win, but he'll have to move, and I -quite expect to see a good set of new records on our advertisements -next week. The next best man is Lant—the new fellow, you know—who -rides for the 'Avalanche' people."</p> - -<p>"Let's see, they're going to the public as a limited company, aren't -they?" Dorrington asked casually.</p> - -<p>Stedman nodded, with a little grimace.</p> - -<p>"You don't think it's a good thing, perhaps," Dorrington said, -noticing the grimace. "Is that so?"</p> - -<p>"Well," Stedman answered, "of course I can't say. I don't know much -about the firm—nobody does, as far as I can tell—but they seem -to have got a business together in almost no time; that is, if the -business is as genuine as it looks at first sight. But they want a -rare lot of capital, and then the prospectus—well, I've seen more -satisfactory ones, you know. I don't say it isn't all right, of course, -but still I shan't go out of my way to recommend any friends of mine to -plunge on it."</p> - -<p>"You won't?"</p> - -<p>"No, I won't. Though no doubt they'll get their capital, or most of it. -Almost any cycle or tyre company can get subscribed just now. And this -'Avalanche' affair is both, and it is so well advertised, you know. -Lant has been winning on their mounts just lately, and they've been -booming it for all they're worth. By Jove, if they could only screw him -up to win the fifty miles on Saturday, and beat our man Gillett, that -<i>would</i> give them a push! Just at the correct moment too. Gillett's -never been beaten yet at the distance, you know. But Lant can't do -it—though, as I have said, he'll make some fast riding—it'll be a -race, I tell you!"</p> - -<p>"I should like to see it."</p> - -<p>"Why not come? See about it, will you? And perhaps you'd like to -run down to the track after dinner this evening and see our man -training—awfully interesting, I can tell you, with all the pacing -machinery and that. Will you come?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington expressed himself delighted, and suggested that Stedman -should dine with him before going to the track. Stedman, for his part, -charmed with his new acquaintance—as everybody was at a first meeting -with Dorrington—assented gladly.</p> - -<p>At that moment the door of Stedman's room was pushed open and a -well-dressed, middle-aged man, with a shaven, flabby face, appeared. -"I beg pardon," he said, "I thought you were alone. I've just ripped -my finger against the handle of my brougham door as I came in—the -screw sticks out. Have you a piece of sticking plaster?" He extended a -bleeding finger as he spoke. Stedman looked doubtfully at his desk.</p> - -<p>"Here is some court plaster," Dorrington exclaimed, producing his -pocket-book. "I always carry it—it's handier than ordinary sticking -plaster. How much do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks—an inch or so."</p> - -<p>"This is Mr. Dorrington, of Messrs. Dorrington & Hicks, Mr. Mallows," -Stedman said. "Our managing director, Mr. Paul Mallows, Mr. Dorrington."</p> - -<p>Dorrington was delighted to make Mr. Mallows's acquaintance, and he -busied himself with a careful strapping of the damaged finger. Mr. -Mallows had the large frame of a man of strong build who has had much -hard bodily work, but there hung about it the heavier, softer flesh -that told of a later period of ease and sloth. "Ah, Mr. Mallows," -Stedman said, "the bicycle's the safest thing, after all! Dangerous -things these broughams!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, you younger men," Mr. Mallows replied, with a slow and rounded -enunciation, "you younger men can afford to be active. We elders——"</p> - -<p>"Can afford a brougham," Dorrington added, before the managing director -began the next word. "Just so—and the bicycle does it all; wonderful -thing the bicycle!"</p> - -<p>Dorrington had not misjudged his man, and the oblique reference to his -wealth flattered Mr. Mallows. Dorrington went once more through his -report as to the spoke patent, and then Mr. Mallows bade him good-bye.</p> - -<p>"Good-day, Mr. Dorrington, good-day," he said. "I am extremely obliged -by your careful personal attention to this matter of the patent. We may -leave it with Mr. Stedman now, I think. Good-day. I hope soon to have -the pleasure of meeting you again." And with clumsy stateliness Mr. -Mallows vanished.</p> - - -<p class="center">II</p> - -<p>"So you don't think the 'Avalanche' good business as an investment?" -Dorrington said once more as he and Stedman, after an excellent dinner, -were cabbing it to the track.</p> - -<p>"No, no," Stedman answered, "don't touch it! There's better things -than that coming along presently. Perhaps I shall be able to put you -in for something, you know, a bit later; but don't be in a hurry. As -to the 'Avalanche,' even if everything else were satisfactory, there's -too much 'booming' being done just now to please me. All sorts of -rumours, you know, of their having something 'up their sleeve,' and -so on; mysterious hints in the papers, and all that, as to something -revolutionary being in hand with the 'Avalanche' people. Perhaps there -is. But why they don't fetch it out in view of the public subscription -for shares is more than I can understand, unless they don't want too -much of a rush. And as to that, well they don't look like modestly -shrinking from anything of that sort up to the present."</p> - -<p>They were at the track soon after seven o'clock, but Gillett was not -yet riding. Dorrington remarked that Gillett appeared to begin late.</p> - -<p>"Well," Stedman explained, "he's one of those fellows that afternoon -training doesn't seem to suit, unless it is a bit of walking exercise. -He just does a few miles in the morning and a spurt or two, and then he -comes on just before sunset for a fast ten or fifteen miles—that is, -when he is getting fit for such a race as Saturday's. To-night will be -his last spin of that length before Saturday, because to-morrow will be -the day before the race. To-morrow he'll only go a spurt or two, and -rest most of the day."</p> - -<p>They strolled about inside the track, the two highly "banked" ends -whereof seemed to a nearsighted person in the centre to be solid -erect walls, along the face of which the training riders skimmed, -fly-fashion. Only three or four persons beside themselves were in the -enclosure when they first came, but in ten minutes' time Mr. Paul -Mallows came across the track.</p> - -<p>"Why," said Stedman to Dorrington, "here's the Governor! It isn't often -he comes down here. But I expect he's anxious to see how Gillett's -going, in view of Saturday."</p> - -<p>"Good evening, Mr. Mallows," said Dorrington. "I hope the finger's all -right? Want any more plaster?"</p> - -<p>"Good evening, good evening," responded Mr. Mallows heavily. "Thank -you, the finger's not troubling me a bit." He held it up, still -decorated by the black plaster. "Your plaster remains, you see—I was a -little careful not to fray it too much in washing, that was all." And -Mr. Mallows sat down on a light iron garden-chair (of which several -stood here and there in the enclosure) and began to watch the riding.</p> - -<p>The track was clear, and dusk was approaching when at last the great -Gillett made his appearance on the track. He answered a friendly -question or two put to him by Mallows and Stedman, and then, giving -his coat to his trainer, swung off along the track on his bicycle, -led in front by a tandem and closely attended by a triplet. In fifty -yards his pace quickened, and he settled down into a swift even pace, -regular as clockwork. Sometimes the tandem and sometimes the triplet -went to the front, but Gillett neither checked nor heeded as, nursed by -his pacers, who were directed by the trainer from the centre, he swept -along mile after mile, each mile in but a few seconds over the two -minutes.</p> - -<p>"Look at the action!" exclaimed Stedman with enthusiasm. "Just watch -him. Not an ounce of power wasted there! Did you ever see more regular -ankle work? And did anybody ever sit a machine quite so well as that? -Show me a movement anywhere above the hips!"</p> - -<p>"Ah," said Mr. Mallows, "Gillett has a wonderful style—a wonderful -style, really!"</p> - -<p>The men in the enclosure wandered about here and there on the grass, -watching Gillett's riding as one watches the performance of a great -piece of art—which, indeed, was what Gillett's riding was. There were, -besides Mallows, Stedman, Dorrington and the trainer, two officials -of the Cyclists' Union, an amateur racing man named Sparks, the -track superintendent and another man. The sky grew darker, and gloom -fell about the track. The machines became invisible, and little could -be seen of the riders across the ground but the row of rhythmically -working legs and the white cap that Gillett wore. The trainer had just -told Stedman that there would be three fast laps and then his man would -come off the track.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Stedman," said Mr. Mallows, "I think we shall be all right -for Saturday."</p> - -<p>"Rather!" answered Stedman confidently. "Gillett's going great guns, -and steady as a watch!"</p> - -<p>The pace now suddenly increased. The tandem shot once more to the -front, the triplet hung on the rider's flank, and the group of swishing -wheels flew round the track at a "one-fifty" gait. The spectators -turned about, following the riders round the track with their eyes. And -then, swinging into the straight from the top bend, the tandem checked -suddenly and gave a little jump. Gillett crashed into it from behind, -and the triplet, failing to clear, wavered and swung, and crashed over -and along the track too. All three machines and six men were involved -in one complicated smash.</p> - -<p>Everybody rushed across the grass, the trainer first. Then the cause -of the disaster was seen. Lying on its side on the track, with men and -bicycles piled over and against it, was one of the green painted light -iron garden-chairs that had been standing in the enclosure. The triplet -men were struggling to their feet, and though much cut and shaken, -seemed the least hurt of the lot. One of the men of the tandem was -insensible, and Gillett, who from his position had got all the worst -of it, lay senseless too, badly cut and bruised, and his left arm was -broken.</p> - -<p>The trainer was cursing and tearing his hair. "If I knew who'd done -this," Stedman cried, "I'd <i>pulp</i> him with that chair!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that betting, that betting!" wailed Mr. Mallows, hopping about -distractedly; "see what it leads people into doing! It can't have been -an accident, can it?"</p> - -<p>"Accident? Skittles! A man doesn't put a chair on a track in the dark -and leave it there by accident. Is anybody getting away there from the -outside of the track?"</p> - -<p>"No, there's nobody. He wouldn't wait till this; he's clear off a -minute ago and more. Here, Fielders! Shut the outer gate, and we'll see -who's about."</p> - -<p>But there seemed to be no suspicious character. Indeed, except for the -ground-man, his boy, Gillett's trainer, and a racing man, who had just -finished dressing in the pavilion, there seemed to be nobody about -beyond those whom everybody had seen standing in the enclosure. But -there had been ample time for anybody, standing unnoticed at the outer -rails, to get across the track in the dark, just after the riders had -passed, place the obstruction, and escape before the completion of the -lap.</p> - -<p>The damaged men were helped or carried into the pavilion, and the -damaged machines were dragged after them. "I will give fifty pounds -gladly—more, a hundred," said Mr. Mallows, excitedly, "to anybody who -will find out who put that chair on the track. It might have ended in -murder. Some wretched bookmaker, I suppose, who has taken too many bets -on Gillett. As I've said a thousand times, betting is the curse of all -sport nowadays."</p> - -<p>"The governor excites himself a great deal about betting and -bookmakers," Stedman said to Dorrington, as they walked toward the -pavilion, "but, between you and me, I believe some of the 'Avalanche' -people are in this. The betting bee is always in Mallows's bonnet, but -as a matter of fact there's very little betting at all on cycle races, -and what there is is little more than a matter of half-crowns or at -most half-sovereigns on the day of the race. No bookmaker ever makes a -heavy book first. Still there <i>may</i> be something in it this time, of -course. But look at the 'Avalanche' people. With Gillett away their -man can certainly win on Saturday, and if only the weather keeps fair -he can almost as certainly beat the record; just at present the fifty -miles is fairly easy, and it's bound to go soon. Indeed, our intention -was that Gillett should pull it down on Saturday. He was a safe winner, -bar accidents, and it was good odds on his altering the record, if -the weather were any good at all. With Gillett out of it Lant is just -about as certain a winner as our man would be if all were well. And -there would be a boom for the 'Avalanche' company, on the very eve -of the share subscription! Lant, you must know, was very second-rate -till this season, but he has improved wonderfully in the last month or -two, since he has been with the 'Avalanche' people. Let him win, and -they can point to the machine as responsible for it all. 'Here,' they -will say in effect, 'is a man who could rarely get in front, even in -second-class company, till he rode an 'Avalanche.' Now he beats the -world's record for fifty miles on it, and makes rings round the topmost -professionals!' Why, it will be worth thousands of capital to them. Of -course the subscription of capital won't hurt us, but the loss of the -record may, and to have Gillett knocked out like this in the middle of -the season is serious."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I suppose with you it is more than a matter of this one race."</p> - -<p>"Of course. And so it will be with the 'Avalanche' company. Don't you -see, with Gillett probably useless for the rest of the season, Lant -will have it all his own way at anything over ten miles. That'll help -to boom up the shares and there'll be big profit made on trading in -them. Oh, I tell you this thing seems pretty suspicious to me."</p> - -<p>"Look here," said Dorrington, "can you borrow a light for me, and let -me run over with it to the spot where the smash took place? The people -have cleared into the pavilion, and I could go alone."</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Will you have a try for the governor's hundred?"</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps. But anyway there's no harm in doing you a good turn if -I can, while I'm here. Some day perhaps you'll do me one."</p> - -<p>"Right you are—I'll ask Fielders, the ground-man."</p> - -<p>A lantern was brought, and Dorrington betook himself to the spot where -the iron chair still lay, while Stedman joined the rest of the crowd in -the pavilion.</p> - -<p>Dorrington minutely examined the grass within two yards of the place -where the chair lay, and then, crossing the track and getting over the -rails, did the same with the damp gravel that paved the outer ring. -The track itself was of cement, and unimpressionable by footmarks, but -nevertheless he scrutinised that with equal care, as well as the rails. -Then he turned his attention to the chair. It was, as I have said, a -light chair made of flat iron strip, bent to shape and riveted. It had -seen good service, and its present coat of green paint was evidently -far from being its original one. Also it was rusty in places, and -parts had been repaired and strengthened with cross-pieces secured by -bolts and square nuts, some rusty and loose. It was from one of these -square nuts, holding a cross-piece that stayed the back at the top, -that Dorrington secured some object—it might have been a hair—which -he carefully transferred to his pocket-book. This done, with one more -glance round, he betook himself to the pavilion.</p> - -<p>A surgeon had arrived, and he reported well of the chief patient. It -was a simple fracture, and a healthy subject. When Dorrington entered, -preparations were beginning for setting the limb. There was a sofa in -the pavilion, and the surgeon saw no reason for removing the patient -till all was made secure.</p> - -<p>"Found anything?" asked Stedman in a low tone of Dorrington.</p> - -<p>Dorrington shook his head. "Not much," he answered at a whisper. "I'll -think over it later."</p> - -<p>Dorrington asked one of the Cyclists' Union officials for the loan of a -pencil, and, having made a note with it, immediately, in another part -of the room, asked Sparks, the amateur, to lend him another.</p> - -<p>Stedman had told Mr. Mallows of Dorrington's late employment with the -lantern, and the managing director now said quietly, "You remember what -I said about rewarding anybody who discovered the perpetrator of this -outrage, Mr. Dorrington? Well, I was excited at the time, but I quite -hold to it. It is a shameful thing. You have been looking about the -grounds, I hear. I hope you have come across something that will enable -you to find something out. Nothing will please me more than to have to -pay you, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"Well," Dorrington confessed, "I'm afraid I haven't seen anything very -big in the way of a clue, Mr. Mallows; but I'll think a bit. The worst -of it is, you never know who these betting men are, do you, once they -get away? There are so many, and it may be anybody. Not only that, but -they may bribe anybody."</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course—there's no end to their wickedness, I'm afraid. -Stedman suggests that trade rivalry may have had something to do with -it. But that seems an uncharitable view, don't you think? Of course -we stand very high, and there are jealousies and all that, but this -is a thing I'm sure no firm would think of stooping to, for a moment. -No, it's betting that is at the bottom of this, I fear. And I hope, -Mr. Dorrington, that you will make some attempt to find the guilty -parties."</p> - -<p>Presently Stedman spoke to Dorrington again. "Here's something that may -help you," he said. "To begin with, it must have been done by some one -from the outside of the track."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Well, at least every probability's that way. Everybody inside was -directly interested in Gillett's success, excepting the Union officials -and Sparks, who's a gentleman and quite above suspicion, as much so, -indeed, as the Union officials. Of course there was the ground-man, but -he's all right, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"And the trainer?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's altogether improbable—altogether. I was going to say——"</p> - -<p>"And there's that other man who was standing about; I haven't heard who -he was."</p> - -<p>"Right you are. I don't know him either. Where is he now?"</p> - -<p>But the man had gone.</p> - -<p>"Look here, I'll make some quiet inquiries about that man," Stedman -pursued. "I forgot all about him in the excitement of the moment. I was -going to say that although whoever did it could easily have got away by -the gate before the smash came, he might not have liked to go that way -in case of observation in passing the pavilion. In that case he could -have got away (and indeed he could have got into the grounds to begin -with) by way of one of those garden walls that bound the ground just by -where the smash occurred. If that were so he must either live in one of -the houses, or he must know somebody that does. Perhaps you might put -a man to smell about along that road—it's only a short one; Chisnall -Road's the name."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," Dorrington responded patiently. "There might be something -in that."</p> - -<p>By this time Gillett's arm was in a starched bandage and secured by -splints, and a cab was ready to take him home. Mr. Mallows took Stedman -away with him, expressing a desire to talk business, and Dorrington -went home by himself. He did not turn down Chisnall Road. But he -walked jauntily along toward the nearest cab-stand, and once or twice -he chuckled, for he saw his way to a delightfully lucrative financial -operation in cycle companies, without risk of capital.</p> - -<p>The cab gained, he called at the lodgings of two of his men assistants -and gave them instant instructions. Then he packed a small bag at his -rooms in Conduit Street, and at midnight was in the late fast train for -Birmingham.</p> - - - -<p class="center">III</p> - -<p>The prospectus of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company" stated -that the works were at Exeter and Birmingham. Exeter is a delightful -old town, but it can scarcely be regarded as the centre of the cycle -trade; neither is it in especially easy and short communication with -Birmingham. It was the sort of thing that any critic anxious to pick -holes in the prospectus might wonder at, and so one of Dorrington's -assistants had gone by the night mail to inspect the works. It was from -this man that Dorrington, in Birmingham, about noon on the day after -Gillett's disaster, received this telegram—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>Works here old disused cloth-mills just out of town. Closed and -empty but with big new signboard and notice that works now running -are at Birmingham. Agent says only deposit paid—tenancy agreement -not signed.—Farrish.</i></p></div> - -<p>The telegram increased Dorrington's satisfaction, for he had just -taken a look at the Birmingham works. They were not empty, though -nearly so, nor were they large; and a man there had told him that the -chief premises, where most of the work was done, were at Exeter. And -the hollower the business the better prize he saw in store for himself. -He had already, early in the morning, indulged in a telegram on his own -account, though he had not signed it. This was how it ran—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p> - -<i>Mallows, 58, Upper Sandown Place,<br /> -London, W.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Fear all not safe here. Run down by 10.10 train without fail.</i></p></div> - -<p>Thus it happened that at a little later than half-past eight -Dorrington's other assistant, watching the door of No. 58, Upper -Sandown Place, saw a telegram delivered, and immediately afterward -Mr. Paul Mallows in much haste dashed away in a cab which was called -from the end of the street. The assistant followed in another. Mr. -Mallows dismissed his cab at a theatrical wig-maker's in Bow Street -and entered. When he emerged in little more than forty minutes' time, -none but a practised watcher, who had guessed the reason of the visit, -would have recognised him. He had not assumed the clumsy disguise of a -false beard. He was "made up" deftly. His colour was heightened, and -his face seemed thinner. There was no heavy accession of false hair, -but a slight crêpe-hair whisker at each side made a better and less -pronounced disguise. He seemed a younger, healthier man. The watcher -saw him safely off to Birmingham by the ten minutes past ten train, -and then gave Dorrington note by telegraph of the guise in which Mr. -Mallows was travelling.</p> - -<p>Now this train was timed to arrive at Birmingham at one, which was -the reason that Dorrington had named it in the anonymous telegram. -The entrance to the "Avalanche" works was by a large gate, which was -closed, but which was provided with a small door to pass a man. Within -was a yard, and at a little before one o'clock Dorrington pushed open -the small door, peeped, and entered. Nobody was about in the yard, and -what little noise could be heard came from a particular part of the -building on the right. A pile of solid "export" crates stood to the -left, and these Dorrington had noted at his previous call that morning -as making a suitable hiding-place for temporary use. Now he slipped -behind them and awaited the stroke of one. Prompt at the hour a door on -the opposite side of the yard swung open, and two men and a boy emerged -and climbed one after another through the little door in the big gate. -Then presently another man, not a workman, but apparently a sort of -overseer, came from the opposite door, which he carelessly let fall-to -behind him, and he also disappeared through the little door, which he -then locked. Dorrington was now alone in the sole active works of the -"Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited."</p> - -<p>He tried the door opposite and found it was free to open. Within he saw -in a dark corner a candle which had been left burning, and opposite him -a large iron enamelling oven, like an immense safe, and round about, on -benches, were strewn heaps of the glaring red and gold transfer which -Dorrington had observed the day before on the machines exhibited in the -Holborn Viaduct window. Some of the frames had the label newly applied, -and others were still plain. It would seem that the chief business of -the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited," was the attaching -of labels to previously nondescript machines. But there was little time -to examine further, and indeed Dorrington presently heard the noise of -a key in the outer gate. So he stood and waited by the enamelling oven -to welcome Mr. Mallows.</p> - -<p>As the door was pushed open Dorrington advanced and bowed politely. -Mallows started guiltily, but, remembering his disguise, steadied -himself, and asked gruffly, "Well, sir, and who are you?"</p> - -<p>"I," answered Dorrington with perfect composure, "I am Mr. -Paul Mallows—you may have heard of me in connection with the -'Indestructible Bicycle Company.'"</p> - -<p>Mallows was altogether taken aback. But then it struck him that perhaps -the detective, anxious to win the reward he had offered in the matter -of the Gillett outrage, was here making inquiries in the assumed -character of the man who stood, impenetrably disguised, before him. So -after a pause he asked again, a little less gruffly, "And what may be -your business?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Dorrington, "I did think of taking shares in this company. -I suppose there would be no objection to the managing director of -another company taking shares in this?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Mallows, wondering what all this was to lead to.</p> - -<p>"Of course not; I'm sure <i>you</i> don't think so, eh?" Dorrington, as -he spoke, looked in the other's face with a sly leer, and Mallows -began to feel altogether uncomfortable. "But there's one other -thing," Dorrington pursued, taking out his pocket-book, though still -maintaining his leer in Mallows's face—"one other thing. And by the -way, <i>will</i> you have another piece of court plaster now I've got -it out? Don't say no. It's a pleasure to oblige you, really." And -Dorrington, his leer growing positively fiendish, tapped the side of -his nose with the case of court plaster.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus016.jpg" alt="TAPPED" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"TAPPED THE SIDE OF HIS NOSE WITH THE CASE."</p> - -<p>Mallows paled under the paint, gasped, and felt for support. Dorrington -laughed pleasantly. "Come, come," he said, "don't be frightened. I -admire your cleverness, Mr. Mallows, and I shall arrange everything -pleasantly, as you will see. And as to the court plaster, if you'd -rather not have it you needn't. You have another piece on now, I see. -Why didn't you get them to paint it over at Clarkson's? They really did -the face very well, though! And there again you were quite right. -Such a man as yourself was likely to be recognised in such a place as -Birmingham, and that would have been unfortunate for both of us—<i>both</i> -of us, I assure you.... Man alive, don't look as though I was going to -cut your throat! I'm not, I assure you. You're a smart man of business, -and I happen to have spotted a little operation of yours, that's all. -I shall arrange easy terms for you.... Pull yourself together and talk -business before the men come back. Here, sit on this bench."</p> - -<p>Mallows, staring amazedly in Dorrington's face, suffered himself to be -led to a bench, and sat on it.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Dorrington, "the first thing is a little matter of a -hundred pounds. That was the reward you promised if I should discover -who broke Gillett's arm last night. Well, I <i>have</i>. Do you happen to -have any notes with you? If not, make it a cheque."</p> - -<p>"But—but—how—I mean who—who——"</p> - -<p>"Tut, tut! Don't waste time, Mr. Mallows. <i>Who?</i> Why, yourself, of -course. I knew all about it before I left you last night, though it -wasn't quite convenient to claim the reward then, for reasons you'll -understand presently. Come, that little hundred!"</p> - -<p>"But what—what proof have you? I'm not to be bounced like this, you -know." Mr. Mallows was gathering his faculties again.</p> - -<p>"Proof? Why, man alive, be reasonable! Suppose I have none—none at -all? What difference does that make? Am I to walk out and tell your -fellow directors where I have met you—here—or am I to have that -hundred? More, am I to publish abroad that Mr. Paul Mallows is the -moving spirit in the rotten 'Avalanche Bicycle Company'?"</p> - -<p>"Well," Mallows answered reluctantly, "if you put it like that——"</p> - -<p>"But I only put it like that to make you see things reasonably. As a -matter of fact your connection with this new company is enough to bring -your little performance with the iron chair pretty near proof. But I -got at it from the other side. See here—you're much too clumsy with -your fingers, Mr. Mallows. First you go and tear the tip of your middle -finger opening your brougham door, and have to get court plaster from -me. Then you let that court plaster get frayed at the edge, and you -still keep it on. After that you execute your very successful chair -operation. When the eyes of the others are following the bicycles you -take the chair in the hand with the plaster on it, catching hold of it -at the place where a rough, loose, square nut protrudes, and you pitch -it on to the track so clumsily and nervously that the nut carries away -the frayed thread of the court plaster with it. Here it is, you see, -still in my pocket-book, where I put it last night by the light of the -lantern; just a sticky black silk thread, that's all. I've only brought -it to show you I'm playing a fair game with you. Of course I might -easily have got a witness before I took the thread off the nut, if I -had thought you were likely to fight the matter. But I knew you were -not. You can't fight, you know, with this bogus company business known -to me. So that I am only showing you this thread as an act of grace, -to prove that I have stumped you with perfect fairness. And now the -hundred. Here's a fountain pen, if you want one."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Mallows glumly, "I suppose I must, then." He took the -pen and wrote the cheque. Dorrington blotted it on the pad of his -pocket-book and folded it away.</p> - -<p>"So much for that!" he said. "That's just a little preliminary, you -understand. We've done these little things just as a guarantee of good -faith—not necessarily for publication, though you must remember that -as yet there's nothing to prevent it. I've done you a turn by finding -out who upset those bicycles, as you so ardently wished me to do last -night, and you've loyally fulfilled your part of the contract by paying -the promised reward—though I must say that you haven't paid with all -the delight and pleasure you spoke of at the time. But I'll forgive you -that, and now that the little <i>hors d'œuvre</i> is disposed of, we'll -proceed to serious business."</p> - -<p>Mallows looked uncomfortably glum.</p> - -<p>"But you mustn't look so ashamed of yourself, you know," Dorrington -said, purposely misinterpreting his glumness. "It's all business. -You were disposed for a little side flutter, so to speak—a little -speculation outside your regular business. Well, you mustn't be ashamed -of that."</p> - -<p>"No," Mallows observed, assuming something of his ordinarily ponderous -manner; "no, of course not. It's a little speculative deal. Everybody -does it, and there's a deal of money going."</p> - -<p>"Precisely. And since everybody does it, and there is so much money -going, you are only making your share."</p> - -<p>"Of course." Mr. Mallows was almost pompous by now.</p> - -<p>"<i>Of</i> course." Dorrington coughed slightly. "Well now, do you know, -I am exactly the same sort of man as yourself—if you don't mind the -comparison. <i>I</i> am disposed for a little side flutter, so to speak—a -little speculation outside my regular business. I also am not ashamed -of it. And since everybody does it, and there is so much money -going—why, <i>I</i> am thinking of making <i>my</i> share. So we are evidently a -pair, and naturally intended for each other!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Paul Mallows here looked a little doubtful.</p> - -<p>"See here, now," Dorrington proceeded. "I have lately taken it into -my head to operate a little on the cycle share market. That was why I -came round myself about that little spoke affair, instead of sending an -assistant. I wanted to know somebody who understood the cycle trade, -from whom I might get tips. You see I'm perfectly frank with you. Well, -I have succeeded uncommonly well. And I want you to understand that -I have gone every step of the way by fair work. I took nothing for -granted, and I played the game fairly. When you asked me (as you had -anxious reason to ask) if I had found anything, I told you there was -nothing very big—and see what a little thing the thread was! Before I -came away from the pavilion I made sure that you were really the only -man there with black court plaster on his fingers. I had noticed the -hands of every man but two, and I made an excuse of borrowing something -to see those. I saw your thin pretence of suspecting the betting men, -and I played up to it. I have had a telegraphic report on your Exeter -works this morning—a deserted cloth mills with nothing on it of yours -but a signboard, and only a deposit of rent paid. <i>There</i> they referred -to the works here. <i>Here</i> they referred to the works there. It was very -clever, really! Also I have had a telegraphic report of your make-up -adventure this morning. Clarkson does it marvellously, doesn't he? And, -by the way, that telegram bringing you down to Birmingham was not from -your confederate here, as perhaps you fancied. It was from me. Thanks -for coming so promptly. I managed to get a quiet look round here just -before you arrived, and on the whole the conclusion I come to as to -the 'Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited,' is this: A clever -man, whom it gives me great pleasure to know," with a bow to Mallows, -"conceives the notion of offering the public the very rottenest cycle -company ever planned, and all without appearing in it himself. He finds -what little capital is required; his two or three confederates help to -make up a board of directors, with one or two titled guinea-pigs, who -know nothing of the company and care nothing, and the rest's easy. A -professional racing man is employed to win races and make records, on -machines which have been specially made by another firm (perhaps it was -the 'Indestructible,' who knows?) to a private order, and afterwards -decorated with the name and style of the bogus company on a transfer. -For ordinary sale, bicycles of the 'trade' description are bought—so -much a hundred from the factors, and put your own name on 'em. They -come cheap, and they sell at a good price—the profit pays all expenses -and perhaps a bit over; and by the time they all break down the company -will be successfully floated, the money—the capital—will be divided, -the moving spirit and his confederates will have disappeared, and the -guinea-pigs will be left to stand the racket—if there is a racket. And -the moving spirit will remain unsuspected, a man of account in the -trade all the time! Admirable! All the work to be done at the 'works' -is the sticking on of labels and a bit of enamelling. Excellent, all -round! Isn't that about the size of your operations?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes," Mallows answered, a little reluctantly, but with something -of modest pride in his manner, "that was the notion, since you speak so -plainly."</p> - -<p>"And it shall be the notion. All—everything—shall be as you have -planned it, with one exception, which is this. The moving spirit shall -divide his plunder with me."</p> - -<p>"<i>You?</i> But—but—why, I gave you a hundred just now!"</p> - -<p>"Dear, dear! Why will you harp so much on that vulgar little hundred? -That's settled and done with. That's our little personal bargain in the -matter of the lamentable accident with the chair. We are now talking -of bigger business—not hundreds, but thousands, and not one of them, -but a lot. Come now, a mind like yours should be wide enough to admit -of a broad and large view of things. If I refrain from exposing this -charming scheme of yours I shall be promoting a piece of scandalous -robbery. Very well then, I want my promotion money, in the regular -way. Can I shut my eyes and allow a piece of iniquity like this to go -on unchecked, without getting anything by way of damages for myself? -Perish the thought! When all expenses are paid, and the confederates -are sent off with as little as they will take, you and I will divide -fairly, Mr. Mallows, respectable brothers in rascality. Mind, I might -say we'd divide to begin with, and leave you to pay expenses, but I am -always fair to a partner in anything of this sort. I shall just want a -little guarantee, you know—it's safest in such matters as these; say -a bill at six months for ten thousand pounds—which is very low. When -a satisfactory division is made you shall have the bill back. Come—I -have a bill-stamp ready, being so much convinced of your reasonableness -as to buy it this morning, though it cost five pounds."</p> - -<p>"But that's nonsense—you're trying to impose. I'll give you anything -reasonable—half is out of the question. What, after all the trouble -and worry and risk that I've had——"</p> - -<p>"Which would suffice for no more than to put you in gaol if I held up -my finger!"</p> - -<p>"But hang it, be reasonable! You're a mighty clever man, and you've -got me on the hip, as I admit. Say ten per cent."</p> - -<p>"You're wasting time, and presently the men will be back. Your choice -is between making half, or making none, and going to gaol into the -bargain. Choose!"</p> - -<p>"But just consider——"</p> - -<p>"Choose!"</p> - -<p>Mallows looked despairingly about him. "But really," he said, "I want -the money more than you think. I——"</p> - -<p>"For the last time—choose!"</p> - -<p>Mallows's despairing gaze stopped at the enamelling oven. "Well, well," -he said, "if I must, I must, I suppose. But I warn you, you may regret -it."</p> - -<p>"Oh dear no, I'm not so pessimistic. Come, you wrote a cheque—now I'll -write the bill. 'Six months after date, pay to me or my order the sum -of ten thousand pounds for value received'—excellent value too, <i>I</i> -think. There you are!"</p> - -<p>When the bill was written and signed, Mallows scribbled his acceptance -with more readiness than might have been expected. Then he rose, and -said with something of brisk cheerfulness in his tone, "Well, that's -done, and the least said the soonest mended. You've won it, and I -won't grumble any more. I think I've done this thing pretty neatly, eh? -Come and see the 'works.'"</p> - -<p>Every other part of the place was empty of machinery. There were a good -many finished frames and wheels, bought separately, and now in course -of being fitted together for sale; and there were many more complete -bicycles of cheap but showy make to which nothing needed to be done but -to fix the red and gold "transfer" of the "Avalanche" company. Then -Mallows opened the tall iron door of the enamelling oven.</p> - -<p>"See this," he said; "this is the enamelling oven. Get in and look -round. The frames and other different parts hang on the racks after the -enamel is laid on, and all those gas jets are lighted to harden it by -heat. Do you see that deeper part there by the back?—go closer."</p> - -<p>Dorrington felt a push at his back and the door was swung to with a -bang, and the latch dropped. He was in the dark, trapped in a great -iron chamber. "I warned you," shouted Mallows from without; "I warned -you you might regret it!" And instantly Dorrington's nostrils were -filled with the smell of escaping gas. He realised his peril on the -instant. Mallows had given him the bill with the idea of silencing -him by murder and recovering it. He had pushed him into the oven -and had turned on the gas. It was dark, but to light a match would -mean death instantly, and without the match it must be death by -suffocation and poison of gas in a very few minutes. To appeal to -Mallows was useless—Dorrington knew too much. It would seem that at -last a horribly-fitting retribution had overtaken Dorrington in death -by a mode parallel to that which he and his creatures had prepared -for others. Dorrington's victims had drowned in water—or at least -Crofton's had, for I never ascertained definitely whether anybody had -met his death by the tank after the Croftons had taken service with -Dorrington—and now Dorrington himself was to drown in gas. The oven -was of sheet iron, fastened by a latch in the centre. Dorrington flung -himself desperately against the door, and it gave outwardly at the -extreme bottom. He snatched a loose angle-iron with which his hand -came in contact, dashed against the door once more, and thrust the -iron through where it strained open. Then, with another tremendous -plunge, he drove the door a little more outward and raised the -angle-iron in the crack; then once more, and raised it again. He was -near to losing his senses, when, with one more plunge, the catch of the -latch, not designed for such treatment, suddenly gave way, the door -flew open, and Dorrington, blue in the face, staring, stumbling and -gasping, came staggering out into the fresher air, followed by a gush -of gas.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus017.jpg" alt="WRETCH" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption"> "HAULED THE STRUGGLING WRETCH ACROSS THE ROOM."</p> - -<p>Mallows had retreated to the rooms behind, and thither Dorrington -followed him, gaining vigour and fury at every step. At sight of him -the wretched Mallows sank in a corner, sighing and shivering with -terror. Dorrington reached him and clutched him by the collar. There -should be no more honour between these two thieves now. He would drag -Mallows forth and proclaim him aloud; and he would keep that £10,000 -bill. He hauled the struggling wretch across the room, tearing off -the crêpe whiskers as he came, while Mallows supplicated and whined, -fearing that it might be the other's design to imprison <i>him</i> in the -enamelling oven. But at the door of the room against that containing -the oven their progress came to an end, for the escaped gas had -reached the lighted candle, and with one loud report the partition wall -fell in, half burying Mallows where he lay, and knocking Dorrington -over.</p> - -<p>Windows fell out of the building, and men broke through the front -gate, climbed into the ruined rooms and stopped the still escaping -gas. When the two men and the boy returned, with the conspirator who -had been in charge of the works, they found a crowd from the hardware -and cycle factories thereabout, surveying with great interest the -spectacle of the extrication of Mr. Paul Mallows, managing director of -the "Indestructible Bicycle Company," from the broken bricks, mortar, -bicycles and transfers of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, -Limited," and the preparations for carrying him to a surgeon's where -his broken leg might be set. As for Dorrington, a crushed hat and a -torn coat were all his hurts, beyond a few scratches. And in a couple -of hours it was all over Birmingham, and spreading to other places, -that the business of the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company" consisted -of sticking brilliant labels on factors' bicycles, bought in batches; -for the whole thing was thrown open to the general gaze by the -explosion. So that when, next day, Lant won the fifty miles race in -London, he was greeted with ironical shouts of "Gum on yer transfer!" -"Hi! mind yer label!" "Where did you steal that bicycle?" "Sold yer -shares?" and so forth.</p> - -<p>Somehow the "Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company, Limited," never went -to allotment. It was said that a few people in remote and benighted -spots, where news never came till it was in the history books, had -applied for shares, but the bankers returned their money, doubtless -to their extreme disappointment. It was found politic, also, that Mr. -Paul Mallows should retire from the directorate of the "Indestructible -Bicycle Company"—a concern which is still, I believe, flourishing -exceedingly.</p> - -<p>As for Dorrington, he had his hundred pounds reward. But the bill for -£10,000 he never presented. Why, I do not altogether know, unless he -found that Mr. Mallows's financial position, as he had hinted, was not -altogether so good as was supposed. At any rate, it was found among the -notes and telegrams in this case in the Dorrington deed-box.</p> - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"><a name="THE_CASE_OF_MR_LOFTUS_DEACON" id="THE_CASE_OF_MR_LOFTUS_DEACON"><i>THE CASE OF MR. LOFTUS DEACON</i></a></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">V</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus005.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - - - -<p class="center">I</p> - -<p>This was a case that helped to give Dorrington much of that reputation -which unfortunately too often enabled him to profit himself far beyond -the extent to which his clients intended. It occurred some few years -back, and there was such a stir at the time over the mysterious death -of Mr. Loftus Deacon that it well paid Dorrington to use his utmost -diligence in an honest effort to uncover the mystery. It gave him -one of his best advertisements, though indeed it occasioned him less -trouble in the unravelling than many a less interesting case. There -were scarcely any memoranda of the affair among Dorrington's papers, -beyond entries of fees paid, and I have almost entirely relied upon -the account given me by Mr. Stone, manager in the employ of the firm -owning the premises in which Mr. Deacon died.</p> - -<p>These premises consisted of a large building let out in expensive -flats, one of the first places built with that design in the West-End -of London. The building was one of three, all belonging to the firm I -have mentioned, and numbered 1, 2 and 3, Bedford Mansions. They stood -in the St. James's district, and Mr. Loftus Deacon's quarters were in -No. 2.</p> - -<p>Mr. Deacon's magnificent collection of oriental porcelain will be -remembered as long as any in the national depositories; much of it was -for a long while lent, and, by Mr. Deacon's will, passed permanently -into possession of the nation. His collection of oriental arms, -however, was broken up and sold, as were also his other innumerable -objects of Eastern art—lacquers, carvings, and so forth. He was a -wealthy man, this Mr. Deacon, a bachelor of sixty, and his whole life -was given to his collections. He was currently reported to spend some -£15,000 a year on them, and, in addition, would make inroads into -capital for special purchases at the great sales. People wondered -where all the things were kept. And indeed they had reason, for -Mr. Deacon's personal establishment was but a suite of rooms on the -ground floor of Bedford Mansions. But the bulk of the collections were -housed at various museums—indeed it was a matter of banter among his -acquaintances that Mr. Loftus Deacon made the taxpayers warehouse most -of his things; moreover, the flat was a large one—it occupied almost -the whole of the ground-floor of the building, and it overflowed with -the choicest of its tenant's possessions. There were eight large and -lofty rooms, as well as the lobby, scullery and so forth, and every -one was full. The walls were hung with the most precious <i>kakemono</i> -and <i>nishikiyé</i> of Japan; and glass cabinets stood everywhere, packed -with porcelain and faience—celadon, peach-bloom, and blue and white, -Satsuma, Raku, Ninsei, and Arita—many a small piece worth its weight -in gold over and over and over again. At places on the wall, among -the <i>kakemono</i> and pictures of the <i>ukioyé</i>, were trophies of arms. -Two suits of ancient Japanese armour, each complete and each the -production of one of the most eminent of the Miochin family, were -exhibited on stands, and swords stood in many corners and lay in -many racks. Innumerable drawers contained specimens of the greatest -lacquer ware of Korin, Shunsho, Kajikawa, Koyetsu, and Ritsuo, each -in its wadded brocade <i>fukusa</i> with the light wooden box encasing -all. In more glass cabinets stood <i>netsuké</i> and <i>okimono</i> of ivory, -bronze, wood, and lacquer. There were a few gods and goddesses, and -conspicuous among them two life-sized gilt Buddhas beamed mildly over -all from the shelves on which they were raised. By the operation of -natural selection it came about that the choicest of all Mr. Deacon's -possessions were collected in these rooms. Here were none of the great -cumbersome pots, good in their way, but made of old time merely for the -European market. Of all that was Japanese every piece was of the best -and rarest, consequently, in almost every case, of small dimensions, as -is the way of the greatest of the wares of old Japan. And of all the -precious contents of these rooms everything was oriental in its origin -except the contents of one case, which displayed specimens of the most -magnificent goldsmiths' and silver-smiths' work of mediæval Europe. It -stood in the room which Mr. Loftus Deacon used as his sitting-room, and -more than one of his visitors had wondered that such valuable property -was not kept at a banker's. This view, however, always surprised and -irritated Mr. Deacon. "Keep it at a banker's?" he would say. "Why not -melt it down at once? The things are works of art, things of beauty, -and that's why I have them, not merely because they're gold and silver. -To shut them up in a strong-room would be the next thing to destroying -them altogether. Why not lock the whole of my collections in safes, and -never look at them? They are all valuable. But if they are not to be -seen I would rather have the money they cost." So the gold and silver -stood in its case, to the blinking wonderment of messengers and porters -whose errands took them into Mr. Loftus Deacon's sitting-room. The -contents of this case were the only occasion, however, of Mr. Deacon's -straying from oriental paths in building up his collection. There they -stood, but he made no attempt to add to them. He went about his daily -hunting, bargaining, cataloguing, cleaning, and exhibiting to friends, -but all his new treasures were from the East, and most were Japanese. -His chief visitors were travelling buyers of curiosities; little -Japanese who had come to England to study medicine and were paying -their terms by the sale of heirlooms in pottery and lacquer; porters -from Christie's and Foster's; and sometimes men from Copleston's—the -odd emporium by the riverside where lions and monkeys, porcelain and -savage weapons were bought and sold close by the ships that brought -them home. The travellers were suspicious and cunning; the Japanese -were bright, polite, and dignified, and the men from Copleston's were -wiry, hairy and amphibious; one was an enormously muscular little -hunchback nicknamed Slackjaw—a quaint and rather repulsive compound of -showman, sailor and half-caste rough; and all were like mermen, more -or less. These curious people came and went, and Mr. Deacon went on -buying, cataloguing, and joying in his possessions. It was the happiest -possible life for a lonely old man with his tastes and his means of -gratifying them, and it went placidly on till one Wednesday mid-day. -Then Mr. Deacon was found dead in his rooms in most extraordinary and, -it seemed, altogether unaccountable circumstances.</p> - -<p>There was but one door leading into Mr. Deacon's rooms from the open -corridor of the building, and this was immediately opposite the large -street door. When one entered from the street one ascended three or -four broad marble steps, pushed open one of a pair of glazed swing -doors and found oneself facing the door by which Mr. Deacon entered -and left his quarters. There had originally been other doors into -the corridor from some of the rooms, but those Mr. Deacon had had -blocked up, so making the flat entirely self-contained. Just by the -glazed swing doors which I have spoken of, and in full view of the -old gentleman's door, the hall-porter's box stood. It was glazed on -all sides, and the porter sat so that Mr. Deacon's door was always -before his eyes, and, so long as he was there, it was very unlikely -that anybody or anything could leave or enter by that door unobserved -by him. It is important to remember this, in view of what happened on -the occasion I am writing of. There was one other exterior door to Mr. -Deacon's flat, and one only. It gave upon the back spiral staircase, -and was usually kept locked. This staircase had no outlet to the -corridors, but merely extended from the housekeeper's rooms at the top -of the building to the basement. It was little used, and then only by -servants, for it gave access only to the rooms on its own side. There -was no way from this staircase to the outer street except through the -private rooms of the tenants, or through those of the housekeeper.</p> - -<p>That Wednesday morning things had happened precisely in the ordinary -way. Mr. Deacon had risen and breakfasted as usual. He was alone, with -his newspaper and his morning letters, when his breakfast was taken -in and when it was removed. He had remained in his rooms till between -twelve and one o'clock. Goods had arrived for him (this was an almost -daily occurrence), and one or two ordinary visitors had called and -gone away again. It was Mr. Deacon's habit to lunch at his club, and -at about a quarter to one, or thereabout, he had come out, locked his -door, and leaving his usual message that he should be at the club for -an hour or two, in case anybody called, he had left the building. At -about one, however, he had returned hurriedly, having forgotten some -letters. "I didn't give you any letters for the post, did I, Beard, -before I went out?" he asked the porter. And the porter replied that he -had not. Mr. Deacon thereupon crossed the corridor, entered his door, -and shut it behind him.</p> - -<p>He had been gone but a few seconds, when there arose an outcry from -within the rooms—a shout followed in a breath by a loud cry of pain, -and then silence. Beard, the porter, ran to the door and knocked, but -there was no reply. "Did you call, sir?" he shouted, and knocked again, -but still without response. The door was shut, and it had a latch lock -with no exterior handle. Beard, who had had an uncle die of apoplexy, -was now thoroughly alarmed, and shouted up the speaking-tube for the -housekeeper's keys. In course of a few minutes they were brought, and -Beard and the housekeeper entered.</p> - -<p>The lobby was as usual, and the sitting-room was in perfect order. But -in the room beyond Mr. Loftus Deacon lay in a pool of blood, with two -large and fearful gashes in his head. Not a soul was in any of the -rooms, though the two men, first shutting the outer door, searched -diligently. All windows and doors were shut, and the rooms were -tenantless and undisturbed, except that on the floor lay Mr. Deacon -in his blood at the foot of a pedestal whereupon there squatted, with -serenely fierce grin, the god Hachiman, gilt and painted, carrying in -one of his four hands a snake, in another a mace, in a third a small -human figure, and in the fourth a heavy, straight, guardless sword; and -all around furniture, cabinets, porcelain, lacquer and everything else -lay undisturbed.</p> - -<p>At first sight of the tragedy the porter had sent the lift-man for -the police, and soon they arrived, and a surgeon with them. For the -surgeon there was very little to do. Mr. Deacon was dead. Either of the -two frightful gashes in the head would have been fatal, and they had -obviously both been delivered with the same instrument—something heavy -and exceedingly sharp.</p> - -<p>The police now set themselves to close investigation. The porter was -certain that nobody had entered the rooms that morning who had not -afterwards left. He was sure that nobody had entered unobserved, and -he was sure that Mr. Deacon had re-entered his chambers unaccompanied. -Working, therefore, on the assumption that the murderer could not -have entered by the front door, the police turned their attention -to the back door and the windows. The door to the back staircase -was locked, and the key was in the lock and inside. Therefore they -considered the windows. There were but three of these that looked upon -the street, two in one room and one in another, but these were shut -and fastened within. Other rooms were lighted by windows looking upon -lighting-wells, some being supplied with reflectors. All these windows -were found to be quite undisturbed, and fastened within, except one. -This window was in the bedroom, and, though it was shut, the catch was -not fastened. The porter declared that it was Mr. Deacon's practice -invariably to fasten every shut window, a thing he was always very -careful about. Moreover, the window now found unfastened and shut was -always left open a foot or so all day, to air the bedroom. More, a -housemaid was brought who had that morning made the bed and dusted the -room. The window was opened, she said, when she had entered the room, -and she had left it so, as she always did. Therefore, shut as it was, -but not fastened, it seemed plain that this window must have given exit -to the murderer, since no other way appeared possible. Also, to shut -the window behind him would be the fugitive's natural policy. The lower -panes were of ground glass, and at least pursuit would be delayed.</p> - -<p>The window looked upon a lighting-well, and the concreted floor of -the basement was but fifteen or twenty feet below. Careful inquiries -disclosed the fact that a man had been at work painting the joinery -about this well-bottom. He was a man of very indifferent character—had -in fact "done time"—and he was employed for odd jobs by way of -charity, being some sort of connection of a member of the firm owning -the buildings. He had, indeed, received a good education, fitted to -place him in a very different position from that in which he now found -himself, but he was a black sheep. He drank, he gambled, and finally -he stole. His relatives helped him again and again, but their efforts -were useless, and now he was indebted to one of them for his present -occupation at a pound a week. The police, of course, knew something of -him, and postponed questioning him directly until they had investigated -a little further. It might be that Mr. Deacon's death was the work of a -conspiracy wherein more than one had participated.</p> - - - -<p class="center">II</p> - -<p>The next morning (Thursday) Mr. Henry Colson was an early caller at -Dorrington's office. Mr. Colson was a thin, grizzled man of sixty or -thereabout, who had been a close friend—the only intimate friend, -indeed—of Mr. Loftus Deacon. He was a widower, and he lived in rooms -scarce two hundred yards distant from Bedford Mansions, where his -friend had died.</p> - -<p>"My business, Mr. Dorrington," he said, "is in connection with the -terrible death of my old friend Mr. Loftus Deacon, of which you no -doubt have heard or read in the morning papers."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Dorrington assented, "both in this morning's papers and the -evening papers of yesterday."</p> - -<p>"Very good. I may tell you that I am sole executor under Mr. Deacon's -will. The will indeed is in my possession (I am a retired solicitor), -and there happens to be a sum set apart in that will out of which I am -to defray any expenses that may arise in connection with his death. -It really seems to me that I should be quite justified in using some -part of that sum in paying for inquiries to be conducted by such -an experienced man as yourself, into the cause of my poor friend's -death. At any rate, I wish you to make such inquiries, even if I have -to pay the fees myself. I am convinced that there is something very -extraordinary—something very deep—in the tragedy. The police are -pottering about, of course, and keeping very mysterious as to the -matter, but I expect that's simply because they know nothing. They have -made no arrest, and perhaps every minute of delay is making the thing -more difficult. As executor, of course, I have access to the rooms. Can -you come and look at them now?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes," Dorrington answered, reaching for his hat. "I suppose there's -no doubt of the case being one of murder? Suicide is not likely, I take -it?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no—certainly not. He was scarcely the sort of man to commit -suicide, I should say. And he was as cheerful as he could be the -afternoon before, when I last saw him. Besides, the surgeon says it's -nothing of the kind. A man committing suicide doesn't gash himself -twice over the head, or even once. And in this case the first blow -would have made him incapable of another."</p> - -<p>"I have heard nothing about the weapon," Dorrington remarked, as they -entered a cab. "Has it been found?"</p> - -<p>"That's a difficulty," Mr. Colson answered. "It would seem not. Of -course there are numbers of weapons about the place—Japanese swords -and what not—any one of which <i>might</i> have caused such injuries. But -there are no bloodstains on any of them."</p> - -<p>"Is any article of value missing?"</p> - -<p>"I believe not. Everything seemed to be in its place, so far as I -noticed yesterday. But then I was not there long, and was too much -agitated to notice very particularly. At any rate the old gold and -silver plate had not been disturbed. He kept that in a large case in -his sitting-room, and it would certainly be the plate that the murderer -would have made for first, if robbery had been his object."</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson gave Dorrington the other details of the case, already set -forth in this account, and presently the cab stopped before No. 2, -Bedford Mansions. The body, of course, had been removed, but otherwise -the rooms had not been disturbed. The porter let them into the chambers -by aid of the housekeeper's key.</p> - -<p>"They don't seem to have found his keys," Mr. Colson explained, "and -that will be troublesome for me, I expect, presently. He usually -carried them with him, but they were not on the body when found."</p> - -<p>"That may be important," Dorrington said. "But let us look at the -rooms."</p> - -<p>They walked through the large apartments one after the other, and -Dorrington glanced casually about him as he went. Presently Mr. Colson -stopped, struck with an idea. "Ah!" he said, more to himself than to -Dorrington. "I will just see."</p> - -<p>He turned quickly back into the room they had just quitted, and made -for the broad shelf that ran the length of the wall at about the height -of an ordinary table. "Yes!" he cried. "It is! It's gone!"</p> - -<p>"What is gone?"</p> - -<p>"The sword—the Masamuné!"</p> - -<p>The whole surface of the shelf, covered with a silk cloth, was occupied -by Japanese swords and dirks with rich mountings. Most lay on their -sides in rows, but two or three were placed in the lacquered racks. -Mr. Colson stood and pointed at a rack which was standing alone and -swordless. "That is where it was," he said. "I saw it—was talking -about it, in fact—the afternoon before. No, it's nowhere about. It's -not like any of the others. Let me see." And Mr. Colson, much excited, -hurried from room to room wherever swords were kept, searching for the -missing specimen.</p> - -<p>"No," he said at last, looking strangely startled; "It's gone. And I -think we are near the soul of the mystery." He spoke in hushed, uneasy -tones, and his eyes gave token of strange apprehension.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Dorrington asked. "What about this sword?"</p> - -<p>"Come into the sitting-room." Mr. Colson led Dorrington away from the -scene of Mr. Deacon's end, away from the empty sword rack and from -under the shadow of the grinning god with its four arms, its snake, -and its threatening sword. "I don't think I'm very superstitious," Mr. -Colson proceeded, "but I really feel that I can talk more freely about -the matter in here."</p> - -<p>They sat at the table, over against the case of plate, and Mr. Colson -went on. "The sword I speak of," he said, "was much prized by my -poor friend, who brought it with him from Japan nearly twenty years -back—not many years after the civil war there, in fact. It was a very -ancient specimen—of the fourteenth century, I think—and the work of -the famous swordsmith Masamuné. Masamuné's work is very rarely met -with, it seems, and Mr. Deacon felt himself especially fortunate -in securing this example. It is the only piece of Masamuné's work -in the collection. I may tell you that a sword by one of the great -old masters is one of the rarest of all the rarities that come from -Japan. The possessors of the best keep them rather than sell them at -any price. Such swords were handed down from father to son for many -generations, and a Japanese of the old school would have been disgraced -had he parted with his father's blade even under the most pressing -necessity. The mounts he might possibly sell, if he were in very bad -circumstances, but the blade never. Of course, such a thing <i>has</i> -occurred—and it occurred in this very case, as you shall hear. But -as an almost invariable rule the Japanese <i>samurai</i> would part with -his life by starvation rather than with his father's sword by sale. -Such swords would never be stolen, either, for there was a firm belief -that a faithful spirit resided in each, which would bring terrible -disaster on any wrongful possessor. Each sword had its own name, just -as the legendary sword of King Arthur had, and a man's social standing -was judged, not by his house nor by his dress, but by the two swords -in his girdle. The ancient sword-smiths wore court dress and made -votive offerings when they forged their best blades, and the gods were -supposed to assist and to watch over the career of the weapon. Thus you -will understand that such an article was apt to become an object almost -of worship among the <i>samurai</i> or warrior-class in Old Japan. And now -to come to the sword in question. It was a long sword or <i>katana</i> (the -swords, as you know, were worn in pairs, and the smaller was called -the <i>wakizashi</i>), and it was mounted very handsomely with fittings by -a great metal worker of the Goto family. The signature of the great -Masamuné himself was engraved in the usual place—on the iron tang -within the hilt. Mr. Deacon bought the weapon of its possessor, a man -of some distinction before the overthrow of the Shogun in 1868, but -who was reduced to deep poverty by the change in affairs. Mr. Deacon -came across him in his direst straits, when his children were near to -starvation, and the man sold the sword for a sum that was a little -fortune to him, though it only represented some four or five pounds of -our money. Mr. Deacon was always very proud of his treasure—indeed -it was said to be the only blade by Masamuné in Europe; and the two -Japanese things that he had always most longed for, I have heard him -say, were a Masamuné sword and a piece of violet lacquer—that precious -lacquer the secret of making which died long ago. The Masamuné he -acquired, as I have been telling you, but the violet lacquer he never -once encountered.</p> - -<p>"Six months or so back, Deacon received a visit from a Japanese—taller -than usual for a Japanese (I have seen him myself) and with the refined -type of face characteristic of some of the higher class of his country. -His name was Keigo Kanamaro, his card said, and he introduced himself -as the son of Keigo Kiyotaki, the man who had sold Deacon his sword. -He had come to England and had found my friend after much inquiry, he -said, expressly to take back his father's <i>katana</i>. His father was -dead, and he desired to place the sword in his tomb, that the soul of -the old man might rest in peace, undisturbed by the disgrace that had -fallen upon him by the sale of the sword that had been his and his -ancestors' for hundreds of years back. The father had vowed when he had -received the sword in his turn from Kanamaro's grandfather, never to -part with it, but had broken his vow under pressure of want. He (the -son) had earned money as a merchant (an immeasurable descent for a -<i>samurai</i> with the feelings of the old school), and he was prepared to -buy back the Masamuné blade with the Goto mountings for a much higher -price than his father had received for it."</p> - -<p>"And I suppose Deacon wouldn't sell it?" Dorrington asked.</p> - -<p>"No," Mr. Colson replied. "He wouldn't have sold it at any price, I'm -sure. Well, Kanamaro pressed him very urgently, and called again and -again. He was very gentlemanly and very dignified, but he was very -earnest. He apologised for making a commercial offer, assured Deacon -that he was quite aware that he was no mere buyer and seller, but -pleaded the urgency of his case. 'It is not here as in Japan,' he -said, 'among us, the <i>samurai</i> of the old days. You have your beliefs, -we have ours. It is my religion that I must place the <i>katana</i> in my -father's grave. My father disgraced himself and sold his sword in order -that I might not starve when I was a little child. I would rather that -he had let me die, but since I am alive, and I know that you have the -sword, I must take it and lay it by his bones. I will make an offer. -Instead of giving you money, I will give you another sword—a sword -worth as much money as my father's—perhaps more. I have had it sent -from Japan since I first saw you. It is a blade made by the great -Yukiyasu, and it has a scabbard and mountings by an older and greater -master than the Goto who made those for my father's sword.' But it -happened that Deacon already had two swords by Yukiyasu, while of -Masamuné he had only the one. So he tried to reason the Japanese out -of his fancy. But that was useless. Kanamaro called again and again -and got to be quite a nuisance. He left off for a month or two, but -about a fortnight ago he appeared again. He grew angry and forgot his -oriental politeness. 'The English have the English ways,' he said, -'and we have ours—yes, though many of my foolish countrymen are in -haste to be the same as the English are. We have our beliefs, and we -have our knowledge, and I tell you that there are things which you -would call superstition, but which are very real! Our old gods are not -all dead yet, I tell you! In the old times no man would wear or keep -another man's sword. Why? Because the great sword has a soul just as -a man has, and it knows and the gods know! No man kept another's -sword who did not fall into terrible misfortune and death, sooner or -later. Give me my father's <i>katana</i> and save yourself. My father weeps -in my ears at night, and I must bring him his <i>katana!</i>' I was talking -to poor Deacon, as I told you, only on Tuesday afternoon, and he told -me that Kanamaro had been there again the day before, in a frantic -state—so bad, indeed, that Deacon thought of applying to the Japanese -legation to have him taken care of, for he seemed quite mad. 'Mind, -you foolish man!' he said. 'My gods still live, and they are strong! -My father wanders on the dark path and cannot go to his gods without -the swords in his girdle. His father asks of his vow! Between here and -Japan there is a great sea, but my father may walk even here, looking -for his <i>katana</i>, and he is angry! I go away for a little. But my gods -know, and my father knows!' And then he took himself off. And now"—Mr. -Colson nodded towards the next room and dropped his voice—"now poor -Deacon is dead and the sword is gone!"</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus018.jpg" alt="KATANA" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"GIVE ME MY FATHER'S KATANA, AND SAVE YOURSELF."</p> - -<p>"Kanamaro has not been seen about the place, I suppose, since the visit -you speak of, on Monday?" Dorrington asked.</p> - -<p>"No. And I particularly asked as to yesterday morning. The hall-porter -swears that no Japanese came to the place."</p> - -<p>"As to the letters, now. You say that when Mr. Deacon came back, after -having left, apparently to get his lunch, he said he came for forgotten -letters. Were any such letters afterwards found?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—there were three, lying on this very table, stamped ready for -postage."</p> - -<p>"Where are they now?"</p> - -<p>"I have them at my chambers. I opened them in the presence of the -police in charge of the case. There was nothing very important about -them—appointments and so forth, merely—and so the police left them in -my charge, as executor."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless I should like to see them. Not just now, but presently. -I think I must see this man presently—the man who was painting in the -basement below the window that is supposed to have been shut by the -murderer in his escape. That is if the police haven't frightened him."</p> - -<p>"Very well, we'll see after him as soon as you like. There was just -one other thing—rather a curious coincidence, though of course there -can't be anything in such a superstitious fancy—but I think I told -you that Deacon's body was found lying at the feet of the four-handed -god in the other room?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Just so." Mr. Colson seemed to think a little more of the -superstitious fancy than he confessed. "Just so," he said again. "At -the feet of the god, and immediately under the hand carrying the sword; -it is not wooden, but an actual steel sword, in fact."</p> - -<p>"I noticed that."</p> - -<p>"Yes. Now that is a figure of Hachiman, the Japanese god of war—a -recent addition to the collection and a very ancient specimen. Deacon -bought it at Copleston's only a few days ago—indeed it arrived here on -Wednesday morning. Deacon was telling me about it on Tuesday afternoon. -He bought it because of its extraordinary design, showing such signs of -Indian influence. Hachiman is usually represented with no more than the -usual number of a man's arms, and with no weapon but a sword. This is -the only image of Hachiman that Deacon ever saw or heard of with four -arms. And after he had bought it he ascertained that this was said to -be one of the idols that carry with them ill-luck from the moment they -leave their temples. One of Copleston's men confided to Deacon that -the lascar seamen and stokers on board the ship that brought it over -swore that everything went wrong from the moment that Hachiman came -on board—and indeed the vessel was nearly lost off Finisterre. And -Copleston himself, the man said, was glad to be quit of it. Things had -disappeared in the most extraordinary and unaccountable manner, and -other things had been found smashed (notably a large porcelain vase) -without any human agency, after standing near the figure. Well," Mr. -Colson concluded, "after all that, and remembering what Kanamaro said -about the gods of his country who watch over ancient swords, it <i>does</i> -seem odd, doesn't it, that as soon as poor Deacon gets the thing he -should be found stricken dead at its feet?"</p> - -<p>Dorrington was thinking. "Yes," he said presently, "it is certainly a -strange affair altogether. Let us see the odd-job man now—the man who -was in the basement below the window. Or rather, find out where he is -and leave me to find him."</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson stepped out and spoke with the hall-porter. Presently he -returned with news. "He's gone!" he said. "Bolted!"</p> - -<p>"What—the man who was in the basement?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. It seems the police questioned him pretty closely yesterday, and -he seized the first opportunity to cut and run."</p> - -<p>"Do you know what they asked him?"</p> - -<p>"Examined him generally, I suppose, as to what he had observed at the -time. The only thing he seems to have said was that he heard a window -shut at about one o'clock. Questioned further, he got into confusion -and equivocation, more especially when they mentioned a ladder which -is kept in a passage close by where he was painting. It seems they -had examined this before speaking to him, and found it had been just -recently removed and put back. It was thick with dust, except just -where it had been taken hold of to shift, and there the hand-marks -were quite clean. Nobody was in the basement but Dowden (that is the -man's name), and nobody else could have shifted that ladder without his -hearing and knowing of it. Moreover, the ladder was just the length -to reach Deacon's window. They asked if he had seen anybody move the -ladder, and he most anxiously and vehemently declared that he had not. -A little while after he was missing, and he hasn't reappeared."</p> - -<p>"And they let him go!" Dorrington exclaimed. "What fools!"</p> - -<p>"He <i>may</i> know something about it, of course," Colson said dubiously; -"but with that sword missing, and knowing what we do of Kanamaro's -anxiety to get it at any cost, and—and"—he glanced toward the other -room where the idol stood—"and one thing and another, it seems to me -we should look in another direction."</p> - -<p>"We will look in all directions," Dorrington replied. "Kanamaro may -have enlisted Dowden's help. Do you know where to find Kanamaro?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Deacon has had letters from him, which I have seen. He lived in -lodgings near the British Museum."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Now, do you happen to know whether a night porter is kept -at this place?"</p> - -<p>"No, there is none. The outer door is shut at twelve. Anybody coming -home after that must ring up the housekeeper by the electric bell."</p> - -<p>"The tenants do not have keys for the outer door?"</p> - -<p>"No; none but keys for their own rooms."</p> - -<p>"Good. Now, Mr. Colson, I want to think things over a little. Would -you care to go at once and ascertain whether or not Kanamaro is still -at the address you speak of?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, I will. Perhaps I should have told you that, though he -knows me slightly, he has never spoken of his father's sword to me, and -does not know that I know anything about it. He seems, indeed, to have -spoken about it to nobody but Deacon himself. He was very proud and -reticent in the matter; and now that Deacon is dead, he probably thinks -nobody alive knows of the matter of the sword but himself. If he is at -home what shall I do?"</p> - -<p>"In that case keep him in sight and communicate with me, or with the -police. I shall stay here for a little while. Then I shall get the -hall-porter (if you will instruct him before you go) to show me the -ladder and the vicinity of Dowden's operations. Also, I think I shall -look at the back staircase."</p> - -<p>"But that was found locked, with the key inside."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, there <i>are</i> ways of managing that, as you would know if -you knew as much about housebreaking as I do. But we'll see."</p> - - - -<p class="center">III</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson took a cab for Kanamaro's lodgings. Kanamaro was not in, -he found, and he had given notice to leave his rooms. The servant at -the door thought that he was going abroad, since his boxes were being -packed, apparently for that purpose. The servant did not know at what -time he would be back.</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson thought for a moment of reporting these facts at once to -Dorrington, but on second thoughts he determined to hurry to the City -and make inquiry at some of the shipping offices as to the vessels soon -to leave for Japan. On the way, however, he bethought him to buy a -shipping paper and gather his information from that. He found what he -wanted from the paper, but he kept the cab on its way, for he happened -to know a man in authority at the Anglo-Malay Company's office, and it -might be a good thing to take a look at their passenger list. Their -next ship for Yokohama was to sail in a few days.</p> - -<p>But he found it unnecessary to see the passenger list. As he entered -one of the row of swing doors which gave access to the large general -and inquiry office of the steamship company, he perceived Keigo -Kanamaro leaving by another. Kanamaro had not seen him. Mr. Colson -hesitated for a moment, and then turned and followed him.</p> - -<p>And now Mr. Colson became suddenly seized with a burning fancy to -play the subtle detective on his own account. Plainly Kanamaro feared -nothing, walking about thus openly, and taking his passage for Japan -at the chief office of the first line of steamships that anybody would -think of who contemplated a voyage to Japan, instead of leaving the -country, as he might have done, by some indirect route, and shipping -for Japan from a foreign port. Doubtless, he still supposed that -nobody knew of his errand in search of his father's sword. Mr. Colson -quickened his pace and came up beside the Japanese.</p> - -<p>Kanamaro was a well-made man of some five feet eight or -nine—remarkably tall for a native of Dai Nippon. His cheek-bones had -not the prominence noticeable in the Japanese of the lower classes, -and his pale oval face and aquiline nose gave token of high <i>sikozu</i> -family. His hair only was of the coarse black that is seen on the heads -of all Japanese. He perceived Mr. Colson, and stopped at once with a -grave bow.</p> - -<p>"Good morning," Mr. Colson said. "I saw you leaving the steamship -office, and wondered whether or not you were going to leave us."</p> - -<p>"Yes—I go home to Japan by the next departing ship," Kanamaro -answered. He spoke with an excellent pronunciation, but with the -intonation and the suppression of short syllables peculiar to his -countrymen who speak English. "My beesness is finished."</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson's suspicions were more than strengthened—almost confirmed. -He commanded his features, however, and replied, as he walked by -Keigo's side, "Ah! your visit has been successful, then?"</p> - -<p>"It has been successful," Kanamaro answered, "at a very great cost."</p> - -<p>"At a very great cost?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—I did not expect to have to do what I have done—I should once -not have believed it possible that I <i>could</i> do it. But"—Kanamaro -checked himself hastily and resumed his grave reserve—"but that is -private beesness, and not for me to disturb you with."</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson had the tact to leave that line of fishing alone for a -little. He walked a few yards in silence, and then asked, with his eyes -furtively fixed on the face of the Japanese, "Do you know of the god -Hachiman?"</p> - -<p>"It is Hachiman the warrior; him of eight flags," Kanamaro replied. -"Yes, I know, of course."</p> - -<p>He spoke as though he would banish the subject. But Mr. Colson went on—</p> - -<p>"Did he preside over the forging of ancient sword-blades in Japan?" he -asked.</p> - -<p>"I do not know of preside—that is a new word. But the great workers -of the steel, those who made the <i>katana</i> in the times of Yoshitsuné -and Taiko-Sama, they hung curtains and made offerings to Hachiman when -they forged a blade—yes. The great Muramasa and the great Masamuné -and Sanénori—they forged their blades at the foot of Hachiman. And it -is believed that the god Inari came unseen with his hammer and forged -the steel too. Though Hachiman is Buddhist and Inari is Shinto. But -these are not things to talk about. There is one religion, which is -yours, and there is another religion, which is mine, and it is not -good that we talk together of them. There are things that people call -superstition when they are of another religion, though they may be very -true."</p> - -<p>They walked a little farther, and then Mr. Colson, determined to -penetrate Kanamaro's mask of indifference, observed—</p> - -<p>"It's a very sad thing this about Mr. Deacon."</p> - -<p>"What is that?" asked Kanamaro, stolidly.</p> - -<p>"Why, it is in all the newspapers!"</p> - -<p>"The newspapers I do not read at all."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Deacon has been killed—murdered in his rooms! He was found lying -dead at the feet of Hachiman the god."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" Kanamaro answered politely, but with something rather like -stolid indifference. "That is very sad. I am sorry. I did not know he -had a Hachiman."</p> - -<p>"And they say," Mr. Colson pursued, "that <i>something</i> has been taken!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," Kanamaro answered, just as coolly; "there were many things -of much value in the rooms." And after a little while he added, "I see -it is a little late. You will excuse me, for I must go to lunch at my -lodgings. Good-day."</p> - -<p>He bowed, shook hands, and hailed a cab. Mr. Colson heard him direct -the cabman to his lodgings, and then, in another cab, Mr. Colson made -for Dorrington's office.</p> - -<p>Kanamaro's stolidity, the lack of anything like surprise at the news -of Mr. Deacon's death, his admission that he had finished his business -in England successfully—these things placed the matter beyond all -doubt in Mr. Colson's mind. Plainly he felt so confident that none knew -of his errand in England, that he took things with perfect coolness, -and even ventured so far as to speak of the murder in very near -terms—to say that he did not expect to have to do what he had done, -and would not have believed it possible that he <i>could</i> do it—though, -to be sure, he checked himself at once before going farther. Certainly -Dorrington must be told at once. That would be better than going to -the police, perhaps, for possibly the police might not consider the -evidence sufficient to justify an arrest, and Dorrington may have -ascertained something in the meantime.</p> - -<p>Dorrington had not been heard of at his office since leaving there -early in the morning. So Mr. Colson saw Hicks, and arranged that a -man should be put on to watch Kanamaro, and should be sent instantly, -before he could leave his lodgings again. Then Mr. Colson hurried to -Bedford Mansions.</p> - -<p>There he saw the housekeeper. From him he learned that Dorrington had -left some time since, promising either to be back or to telegraph -during the afternoon. Also, he learned that Beard, the hall-porter, was -in a great state of indignation and anxiety as a consequence of the -discovery that he was being watched by the police. He had got a couple -of days leave of absence to go and see his mother, who was ill, and he -found his intentions and destination a matter of pressing inquiry. Mr. -Colson assured the housekeeper that he might promise Beard a speedy -respite from the attentions of the police, and went to his lunch.</p> - - -<p class="center">IV</p> - -<p>After his lunch Mr. Colson called and called again at Bedford Mansions, -but neither Dorrington nor his telegram had been heard of. At something -near five o'clock, however, when he had made up his mind to wait, -restless as he was, Dorrington appeared, fresh and complacent.</p> - -<p>"Hope you haven't been waiting long?" he asked. "Fact is I got no -opportunity for lunch till after four, so I had it then. I think I'd -fairly earned it. The case is finished."</p> - -<p>"Finished? But there's Kanamaro to be arrested. I've found——"</p> - -<p>"No, no—I don't think anybody will be arrested at all; you'll read -about it in the evening papers in an hour, I expect. But come into the -rooms. I have some things to show you."</p> - -<p>"But I assure you," Mr. Colson said, as he entered the door of -Deacon's rooms, "I assure you that I got as good as a confession from -Kanamaro—he let it slip in ignorance of what I knew. Why do you say -that nobody is to be arrested?"</p> - -<p>"Because there's nobody alive who is responsible for Mr. Deacon's -death. But come—let me show you the whole thing; it's very simple."</p> - -<p>He led the way to the room where the body had been found, and paused -before the four-armed idol. "Here's our old friend Hachiman," he said, -"whom you half fancied might have had something to do with the tragedy. -Well, you were right. Hachiman had a good deal to do with it, and with -the various disasters at Copleston's too. I will show you how."</p> - -<p>The figure, which was larger than life-size, had been set up -temporarily on a large packing-case, hidden by a red cloth covering. -Hachiman was represented in the familiar Japanese kneeling-sitting -position, and the carving of the whole thing was of an intricate and -close description. The god was represented as clad in ancient armour, -with a large and loose cloak depending from his shoulders and falling -behind in a wilderness of marvellously and deeply carved folds.</p> - -<p>"See here," Dorrington said, placing his fingers under a projecting -part of the base of the figure, and motioning to Mr. Colson to do the -same. "Lift. Pretty heavy, eh?"</p> - -<p>The idol was, indeed, enormously heavy, and it must have required the -exertions of several strong men to place it where it was. "It seems -pretty solid, doesn't it?" Dorrington continued. "But look here." He -stepped to the back of the image, and, taking a prominent fold of the -cloak in one hand, with a quick pull and a simultaneous rap of the -other fist two feet above, a great piece of the carved drapery lifted -on a hinge near the shoulders, displaying a hollow interior. In a dark -corner within a small bottle and a fragment of rag were just visible.</p> - -<p>"See there," said Dorrington, "there wouldn't be enough room in there -for you or me, but a small man—a Japanese priest of the old time, -say—could squat pretty comfortably. And see!"—he pointed to a small -metal bolt at the bottom of the swing drapery—"he could bolt himself -safely in when he got there. Whether the priest went there to play the -oracle, or to blow fire out of Hachiman's mouth and nose I don't know, -though no doubt it might be an interesting subject for inquiry; perhaps -he did both. You observe the chamber is lined with metal, which does -something towards giving the thing its weight, and there are cunning -little openings among the armour-joints in front which would transmit -air and sound—even permit of a peep out. Now Mr. Deacon might or might -not have found out this back door after the figure had been a while in -his possession, but it is certain he knew nothing of it when he bought -it. Copleston knew nothing of it, though the thing has stood in his -place for months. You see it's not a thing one would notice at once—I -never should have done so if I hadn't been looking for it." He shut the -part, and the joints, of irregular outline, fell into the depths of the -folds, and vanished as if by magic.</p> - -<p>"Now," Dorrington went on, "as I told you, Copleston knew nothing of -this, but one of his men found it out. Do you happen to have heard of -one Samuel Castro, nicknamed 'Slackjaw,' a hunchback whom Copleston -employed on odd jobs?"</p> - -<p>"I have seen him here. He called, sometimes with messages, sometimes -with parcels. I should probably have forgotten all about him were -it not that he was rather an extraordinary creature, even among -Copleston's men, who are all remarkable. But did he——"</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus019.jpg" alt="SLACKJAW" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption"> "SLACKJAW."</p> - -<p>"He murdered Mr. Deacon, I think," Dorrington replied, "as I fancy I -can explain to you. But he won't hang for it, for he was drowned this -afternoon before my eyes, in an attempt to escape from the police. He -was an extraordinary creature, as you have said. He wasn't English—a -half-caste of some sort I think—though his command of language, of the -riverside and dock description, was very free; it got him his nickname -of Slackjaw among the longshoremen. He was desperately excitable, and -he had most of the vices, though I don't think he premeditated murder -in this case—nothing but robbery. He was immensely strong, although -such a little fellow, and sharp in his wits, and he might have had -regular work at Copleston's if he had liked, but that wasn't his -game—he was too lazy. He would work long enough to earn a shilling -or so, and then he would go off to drink the money. So he was a -sort of odd on-and-off man at Copleston's—just to run a message or -carry something or what not when the regular men were busy. Well, he -seems to have been smart enough—or perhaps it was no more than an -accident—to find out about Hachiman's back, and he used his knowledge -for his own purposes. Copleston couldn't account for missing things in -the night—because he never guessed that Castro, by shutting himself -up in Hachiman about closing time, had the run of the place when -everybody had gone, and could pick up any trifle that looked suitable -for the pawnshop in the morning. He could sleep comfortably on sacks -or among straw, and thus save the rent of lodgings, and he could -accept Hachiman's shelter again just before Copleston turned up to -start the next day's business. Getting out, too, after the place was -opened, was quite easy, for nobody came to the large store-rooms till -something was wanted, and in a large place with many doors and gates, -like Copleston's, unperceived going and coming was easy to one who knew -the ropes. So that Slackjaw would creep quietly out, and in again by -the front door to ask for a job. Copleston noticed how regular he had -been every morning for the past few months, and thought he was getting -steadier! As to the things that got smashed, I expect Slackjaw knocked -them over, getting out in the dark. One china vase, in particular, -had been shifted at the last moment, probably after he was in his -hiding-place, and stood behind the image. That was smashed, of course. -And these things, coming after the bad voyage of the ship in which he -came over, very naturally gave poor Hachiman an unlucky reputation.</p> - -<p>"Probably Slackjaw was sorry at first when he heard that Hachiman -was bought. But then an idea struck him. He had been to Mr. Deacon's -rooms on errands, and must have seen that fine old plate in the -sitting-room. He had picked up unconsidered trifles at Copleston's -by aid of Hachiman—why not acquire something handsome at Deacon's -in the same way? The figure was to be carried to Bedford Mansions as -soon as work began on Wednesday morning. Very well. All he had to do -was to manage his customary sojourn at Copleston's over Tuesday night, -and keep to his hiding-place in the morning. He did it. Perhaps the -men swore a bit at the weight of Hachiman, but as the idol weighed -several hundredweights by itself, and had not been shifted since it -first arrived, they most likely perceived no difference. Hachiman, with -Slackjaw comfortably bolted inside him (though even <i>he</i> must have -found the quarters narrow) jolted away in the waggon, and in course of -time was deposited where it now stands.</p> - -<p>"Of course all I have told you, and all I am about to tell you, is -no more than conjecture—but I think you will say I have reasons. -From within the idol Slackjaw could hear Mr. Deacon's movements, and -no doubt when he heard him take his hat and stick and shut the outer -door behind him, Hachiman's tenant was glad to get out. He had never -had so long and trying a sojourn in the idol before, though he <i>had</i> -provided himself this time with something to keep his spirits up—in -that little flat bottle he left behind. Probably, however, he waited -some little time before emerging, for safety's sake. I judge this -because I found no signs of his having started work, except a single -small knife-mark on the plate case. He must have no more than begun -when Mr. Deacon came back for his letters. First, however, he went -and shut the bedroom window, lest his movements might be heard in -some adjacent rooms; the man who was painting said he heard that, you -remember. Well, hearing Mr. Deacon's key in the lock, of course he -made a rush for his hiding-place—but there was no time to get in and -close up before Mr. Deacon could hear the noise. Mr. Deacon, as he -entered, heard the footsteps in the next room, and went to see. The -result you know. Castro, perhaps, crouched behind the idol, and hearing -Mr. Deacon approaching, and knowing discovery inevitable, in his mad -fear and excitement, snatched the nearest weapon and struck wildly at -his pursuer. See! here are half a dozen heavy, short Japanese swords -at hand, any one of which might have been used. The thing done, Castro -had to think of escape. The door was impossible—the hall-porter was -already knocking there. But the man had no key—he could be heard -moving about and calling for one. There was yet a little time. He -wiped the blade of the weapon, put it back in its place, took the keys -from the dead man's pocket, and regained his concealment in the idol. -Whether or not he took the keys with the idea of again attempting theft -when the room was left empty I don't know—most likely he thought they -would aid him in escape. Anyway, he didn't attempt theft, but lay in -his concealment—and a pretty bad time he must have had of it—till -night. Probably his nerve was not good enough for anything more than -simple flight. When all was quiet, he left the rooms and shut the door -behind him. Then he lurked about corridors and basements till morning, -and when the doors were opened, slipped out unobserved. That's all. -It's pretty obvious, once you know about Hachiman's interior."</p> - -<p>"And how did you find out?"</p> - -<p>"When you left me here I considered the thing. I put aside all -suspicions of motive, the Japanese and his sword and the rest of it, -and addressed myself to the bare facts. Somebody <i>had</i> been in these -rooms when Mr. Deacon came back, and that somebody had murdered him. -The first thing was to find how this person came, and where he came -from. At first, of course, one thought of the bedroom window, as the -police had done. But reflection proved this unlikely. Mr. Deacon had -entered his front door, was inside a few seconds, and then was murdered -close by the figure of Hachiman. Now if anybody had entered by the -window for purposes of robbery, his impulse on hearing the key in the -outer door (and such a thing could be heard all over the rooms, as I -tested for myself)—his impulse, I say, would be to retreat by the way -he had come, that is by the window. If, then, Mr. Deacon had overtaken -him before he could escape, the murder might have taken place just as -it had done, but it would have been <i>in the bedroom</i>, not in a room -in the opposite direction. And any thief's attention would naturally -be directed at first to the gold plate—indeed, I detected a fresh -knife-mark in the door of the case, which I will show you presently. -Now, as you see by the arrangement of the rooms, the retreat from the -plate case to the bedroom window would be a short one, whereas the -murderer must in fact have taken a longer journey in the opposite -direction. Why? Because he had <i>arrived</i> from that direction, and his -natural impulse was to retreat by the way he had come. This might have -been by the door to the back stairs, but a careful examination of this -door and its lock and key convinced me that it had not been opened. -The key was dirty, and to have turned it from the opposite side would -have necessitated the forcible use of a pair of thin hollow pliers -(a familiar tool to burglars), and these must have left their mark -on the dirty key. So I turned back to the idol. <i>This</i> was the spot -the intruder had made for in his retreat, and the figure had been -brought into the place the very morning of the murder. Also, things -had disappeared from its vicinity at Copleston's. More—it was a large -thing. What if it were hollow? One has heard of such things having been -invented by priests anxious for certain effects. Could not a thief -smuggle himself in that way?</p> - -<p>"The suggestion was a little startling, for if it were the right one -the man might be hiding there at that moment. I gave the thing half an -hour's examination, and in the end found what I have shown you. It was -not the sort of thing one would have found out without looking for it. -Look at it even now. Although you have seen it open, you couldn't point -to the joints."</p> - -<p>Dorrington opened it again. "Once open," he went on, "the thing -was pretty plain. Here is the rag—perhaps it was Castro's -pocket-handkerchief—used to wipe the weapon. It is stained all over, -and cut, as you will observe, by the sharp edge. Also, you may see -a crumb or two—Slackjaw had brought food with him, in case of a -long imprisonment. But chiefly observe the bottle. It is a flat, -high-shouldered, 'quartern' bottle, such as publicans sell or lend to -their customers in poor districts, and as usual it bears the publican's -name—J. Mills. It's a most extraordinary thing, but it seems the fate -of almost every murderer, no matter how cunning, to leave some such -damning piece of evidence about, foolish as it may seem afterward. -I've known it in a dozen cases. Probably Castro, in the dark and in -his excitement, forgot it when he quitted his hiding-place. At any -rate it helped me and made my course plain. Clearly this man, whoever -he was, had come from Copleston's. Moreover, he was a small man, for -the space he had occupied would be too little even for a man of middle -height. Also he bought drink of J. Mills, a publican; if J. Mills -carried on business near Copleston's so much the easier my task would -seem. Before I left, however, I went to the basement and inspected the -ladder, the removal of which had caused the police so much exercise. -Then it was plain why Dowden had cleared out. All his prevarication -and uneasiness were explained at once, as the police might have seen -if they had looked <i>behind</i> the ladder as well as at it. For it had -been lying lengthwise against the wooden partition which formed the -back of the compartments put up to serve the tenants as wine-cellars. -Dowden had taken three planks out of this partition, and so arranged -that they could be slipped in their places and out again without -attracting attention. What he had been taking through the holes he thus -made I won't undertake to say, but I will make a small bet that some of -the tenants find their wine short presently! And so Dowden, never an -industrious person, and never at one job long, thought it best to go -away when he found the police asking why the ladder had been moved."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes—it's very surprising, but no doubt you're right. Still, what -about Kanamaro and that sword?"</p> - -<p>"Tell me exactly what he said to you to-day."</p> - -<p>Mr. Colson detailed the conversation at length.</p> - -<p>Dorrington smiled. "See here," he said, "I have found out something -else in these rooms. What Kanamaro said he meant in another sense to -what you supposed. <i>I</i> wondered a little about that sword, and made a -little search among some drawers in consequence. Look here. Do you see -this box standing out here on a nest of drawers? That is quite unlike -Mr. Deacon's orderly ways. The box contains a piece of lacquer, and -it had been shifted from its drawer to make room for a more precious -piece. See here." Dorrington pulled out a drawer just below where the -box stood, and took from it another white wood box. He opened this -box and removed a quantity of wadding. A rich brocade <i>fukusa</i> was -then revealed, and, loosening the cord of this, Dorrington displayed a -Japanese writing-case, or <i>suzuribako</i>, aged and a little worn at the -corners, but all of lacquer of a beautiful violet hue.</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed Mr. Colson. "Violet lacquer!"</p> - -<p>"That is what it is," Dorrington answered, "and when I saw it I judged -at once that Deacon had at last consented to part with his Masamuné -blade in exchange for that even greater rarity, a fine piece of the -real old violet lacquer. I should imagine that Kanamaro brought it on -Tuesday evening—you will remember that you saw Mr. Deacon for the -last time alive in the afternoon of that day. Beard seems not to have -noticed him, but in the evening hall-porters are apt to be at supper, -you know—perhaps even taking a nap now and then!"</p> - -<p>"Then <i>this</i> is how Kanamaro 'finished his business'!" Mr. Colson -observed. "And the 'very great cost' was probably what he had to pay -for this."</p> - -<p>"I suppose so. And he would not have believed it possible that he -<i>could</i> get a piece of violet lacquer in any circumstances."</p> - -<p>"But," Mr. Colson objected, "I still don't understand his indifference -and lack of surprise when I told him of poor Deacon's death."</p> - -<p>"I think that is very natural in such a man as Keigo Kanamaro. I -don't profess to know a very great deal about Japan, but I know that -a <i>samurai</i> of the old school was trained from infancy to look on -death, whether his own or another's, with absolute indifference. They -regarded it as a mere circumstance. Consider how cold-bloodedly their -<i>hari-kiri</i>, their legalised suicide, was carried out!"</p> - -<p>As they left the rooms and made for the street Mr. Colson said, "But -now I know nothing of your pursuit of Castro."</p> - -<p>Dorrington shrugged his shoulders. "There is little to say," he said. -"I went to Copleston and asked him if any one of his men was missing -all day on Wednesday. None of his regular men were, it seemed, but he -had seen nothing that day of an odd man named Castro, or Slackjaw, -although he had been very regular for some time before; and, indeed, -Castro had not yet turned up. I asked if Castro was a tall man. No, -he was a little fellow and a hunchback, Copleston told me. I asked -what public-house one might find him at, and Copleston mentioned -the 'Blue Anchor'—kept, as I had previously ascertained from the -directory, by J. Mills. That was enough. With everything standing as it -was, a few minutes' talk with the inspector in charge at the nearest -police-station was all that was necessary. Two men were sent to make -the arrest, and the people at the 'Blue Anchor' directed us to Martin's -Wharf, where we found Castro. He had been drinking, but he knew enough -to make a bolt the moment he saw the policemen coming on the wharf. -He dropped on to a dummy barge and made off from one barge to another -in what seemed an aimless direction, though he may have meant to get -away at the stairs a little lower down the river. But he never got as -far. He muddled one jump and fell between the barges. You know what a -suck under there is when a man falls among barges like that. A strong -swimmer with all his senses has only an off chance, and a man with bad -whisky in his head—well, I left them dragging for Slackjaw when I came -away."</p> - -<p>As they turned the corner of the street they met a newsboy running. -"Paper—speshal!" he cried. "The West-End murder—speshal! Suicide of -the murderer!"</p> - -<p>Dorrington's conjecture that Kanamaro had called to make his exchange -on Tuesday evening proved correct. Mr. Colson saw him once more on the -day of his departure, and told him the whole story. And then Keigo -Kanamaro sailed for Japan to lay the sword in his father's tomb.</p> - - - - -<p class="ph3" style="margin-top: 10em;"><a name="OLD_CATERS_MONEY" id="OLD_CATERS_MONEY"><i>OLD CATER'S MONEY</i></a></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph3">VI</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/illus006.jpg" alt="heading" /></p> - - - - -<p class="center">I</p> - -<p>The firm of Dorrington & Hicks had not been constructed at the time -when this case came to Dorrington's hand. Dorrington had barely emerged -from the obscurity that veils his life before some ten years ago, -and he was at this time a needier adventurer than he had been at the -period of any other of the cases I have related. Indeed, his illicit -gains on this occasion would seem first to have set him on his feet -and enabled him first to cut a fair exterior figure. Whether or not -he had developed to the full the scoundrelism that first brought me -acquainted with his trade I do not know; but certain it is that he was -involved at the time in transactions wretchedly ill paid, on behalf -of one Flint, a shipstores dealer at Deptford; an employer whose -record was never a very clean one. This Flint was one of an unpleasant -family. He was nephew to old Cater the wharfinger (and private usurer) -and cousin to another Cater, whose name was Paul, and who was also a -usurer, though he variously described himself as a "commission agent" -or "general dealer." Indeed, he was a general dealer, if the term may -be held to include a dealer in whatever would bring him gain, and -who made no great punctilio in regard to the honesty or otherwise -of his transactions. In fact, all three of these pleasant relatives -had records of the shadiest, and all three did whatever in the way -of money-lending, mortgaging, and blood-sucking came in their way. -It is, however, with old Cater—Jerry Cater, he was called—that -this narrative is in the first place concerned. I got the story from -a certain Mr. Sinclair, who for many years acted as his clerk and -debt-collector.</p> - -<p>Old Jerry Cater lived in the crooked and decaying old house over his -wharf by Bermondsey Wall, where his father had lived before him. It -was a grim and strange old house, with long-shut loft-doors in upper -floors, and hinged flaps in sundry rooms that, when lifted, gave -startling glimpses of muddy water washing among rotten piles below. Not -once in six months now did a barge land its load at Cater's Wharf, and -no coasting brig ever lay alongside. For, in fact, the day of Cater's -Wharf was long past; and it seemed indeed that few more days were left -for old Jerry Cater himself. For seventy-eight years old Jerry Cater -had led a life useless to himself and to everybody else, though his -own belief was that he had profited considerably. Truly if one counted -nothing but the money the old miser had accumulated, then his profit -was large indeed; but it had brought nothing worth having, neither for -himself nor for others, and he had no wife nor child who might use -it more wisely when he should at last leave it behind him; no other -relative indeed than his two nephews, each in spirit a fair copy of -himself, though in body a quarter of a century younger. Seventy-eight -years of every mean and sordid vice and of every virtue that had -pecuniary gain for its sole object left Jerry Cater stranded at last -in his cheap iron bedstead with its insufficient coverings, with not -a sincere friend in the world to sit five minutes by his side. Down -below, Sinclair, his unhappy clerk, had the accommodation of a wooden -table and a chair; and the clerk's wife performed what meagre cooking -and cleaning service old Cater would have. Sinclair was a man of -forty-five, rusty, starved, honest, and very cheap. He was very cheap -because it had been his foolishness, twenty years ago, when in City -employ, to borrow forty pounds of old Cater to get married with, and to -buy furniture, together with forty pounds he had of his own. Sinclair -was young then, and knew nothing of the ways of the two hundred per -cent. money-lender. When he had, by three or four years' pinching, paid -about a hundred and fifty pounds on account of interest and fines, and -only had another hundred or two still due to clear everything off, he -fell sick and lost his place. The payment of interest ceased, and old -Jerry Cater took his victim's body, soul, wife, sticks, and chairs -together. Jerry Cater discharged his own clerk, and took Sinclair, with -a saving of five shillings a week on the nominal salary, and out of the -remainder he deducted, on account of the debt and ever-accumulating -interest, enough to keep his man thin and broken-spirited, without -absolutely incapacitating him from work, which would have been bad -finance. But the rest of the debt, capital and interest, was made into -a capital debt, with usury on the whole. So that for sixteen years or -more Sinclair had been paying something every week off the eternally -increasing sum, and might have kept on for sixteen centuries at the -same rate without getting much nearer freedom. If only there had been -one more room in the house old Cater might have compulsorily lodged -his clerk, and have deducted something more for rent. As it was he -might have used the office for the purpose, but he could never have -brought himself to charge a small rent for it, and a large one would -have swallowed most of the rest of Sinclair's salary, thus bringing -him below starvation point, and impairing his working capacity. But -Mrs. Sinclair, now gaunt and scraggy, did all the housework, so that -that came very cheap. Most of the house was filled with old bales and -rotting merchandise which old Jerry Cater had seized in payment for -wharfage dues and other debts, and had held to, because his ideas of -selling prices were large, though his notion of buying prices were -small. Sinclair was out of doors more than in, dunning and threatening -debtors as hopeless as himself. And the household was completed by one -Samuel Greer, a squinting man of grease and rags, within ten years of -the age of old Jerry Cater himself. Greer was wharf-hand, messenger, -and personal attendant on his employer, and, with less opportunity, was -thought to be near as bad a scoundrel as Cater. He lived and slept in -the house, and was popularly supposed to be paid nothing at all; though -his patronage of the "Ship and Anchor," hard by, was as frequent as -might be.</p> - -<p>Old Jerry Cater was plainly not long for this world. Ailing for months, -he at length gave in and took to his bed. Greer watched him anxiously -and greedily, for it was his design, when his master went at last, -to get what he could for himself. More than once during his illness -old Cater had sent Greer to fetch his nephews. Greer had departed on -these errands, but never got farther than the next street. He hung -about a reasonable time—perhaps in the "Ship and Anchor," if funds -permitted—and then returned to say that the nephews could not come -just yet. Old Cater had quarrelled with his nephews, as he had with -everybody else, some time before, and Greer was resolved, if he could, -to prevent any meeting now, for that would mean that the nephews would -take possession of the place, and he would lose his chance of -convenient larceny when the end came. So it was that neither nephew -knew of old Jerry Cater's shaky condition.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus020.jpg" alt="PAPERS" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"HE SAW A FEW DOUBLED PAPERS."</p> - -<p>Before long, finding that the old miser could not leave his bed—indeed -he could scarcely turn in it—Greer took courage, in Sinclair's -absence, to poke about the place in search of concealed sovereigns. He -had no great time for this, because Jerry Cater seemed to have taken a -great desire for his company, whether for the sake of his attendance -or to keep him out of mischief was not clear. At any rate Greer found -no concealed sovereigns, nor anything better than might be sold for -a few pence at the ragshop. Until one day, when old Cater was taking -alternate fits of restlessness and sleep, Greer ventured to take down -a dusty old pickle-jar from the top shelf in the cupboard of his -master's bedroom. Cater was dozing at the moment, and Greer, tilting -the jar toward the light, saw within a few doubled papers, very dusty. -He snatched the papers out, stuffed them into his pocket, replaced the -jar, and closed the cupboard door hastily. The door made some little -noise, and old Cater turned and woke, and presently he made a shift -to sit up in bed, while Greer scratched his head as innocently as he -could, and directed his divergent eyes to parts of the room as distant -from the cupboard as possible.</p> - -<p>"Sam'l Greer," said old Cater in a feeble voice, while his lower jaw -waggled and twitched, "Sam'l Greer, I think I'll 'ave some beef-tea." -He groped tremulously under his pillow, turning his back to Greer, -who tip-toed and glared variously over his master's shoulders. He saw -nothing, however, though he heard the chink of money. Old Cater turned, -with a shilling in his shaking hand. "Git 'alf a pound o' shin o' -beef," he said, "an' go to Green's for it at the other end o' Grange -Road, d'ye hear? It's—it's a penny a pound cheaper there than it is -anywhere nearer, and—and I ain't in so much of a 'urry for it, so the -distance don't matter. Go 'long." And old Jerry Cater subsided in a fit -of coughing.</p> - -<p>Greer needed no second bidding. He was anxious to take a peep at the -papers he had secreted. Sinclair was out collecting, or trying to -collect, but Greer did not stop to examine his prize before he had -banged the street door behind him, lest Cater, listening above, should -wonder what detained him. But in a convenient courtyard a hundred -yards away he drew out the papers and inspected them eagerly. First, -there was the policy of insurance of the house and premises. Then -there was a bundle of receipts for the yearly insurance premiums. And -then—there was old Jerry Cater's will.</p> - -<p>There were two foolscap sheets, written all in Jerry Cater's own -straggling handwriting. Greer hastily scanned the sheets, and his -dirty face grew longer and his squint intensified as he turned over -the second sheet, found nothing behind it, and stuffed the papers -back in his pocket. For it was plain that not a penny of old Jerry -Cater's money was for his faithful servant, Samuel Greer. "Ungrateful -ole waga-bone!" mused the faithful servant as he went his way. "Not -a blessed 'a'peny; not a 'a'peny! An' them as don't want it gets it, -o' course. That's always the way—it's like a-greasing' of a fat -pig. I shall 'ave to get what I can while I can, that's all." And so -ruminating he pursued his way to the butcher's in Grange Road.</p> - -<p>Once more on his way there, and twice on his way back, Samuel Greer -stepped into retired places to look at those papers again, and at each -inspection he grew more thoughtful. There might be money in it yet. -Come, he must think it over.</p> - -<p>The front door being shut, and Sinclair probably not yet returned, he -entered the house by a way familiar to the inmates—a latched door -giving on to the wharf. The clock told him that he had been gone nearly -an hour, but Sinclair was still absent. When he entered old Cater's -room upstairs he found a great change. The old man lay in a state of -collapse, choking with a cough that exhausted him; and for this there -seemed little wonder, for the window was open, and the room was full of -the cold air from the river.</p> - -<p>"Wot jer bin openin' the winder for?" asked Greer in astonishment. -"It's enough to give ye yer death." He shut it and returned to the -bedside. But though he offered his master the change from the shilling -the old man seemed not to see it nor to hear his voice.</p> - -<p>"Well, if you won't—don't," observed Greer with some alacrity, -pocketing the coppers. "But I'll bet he'll remember right enough -presently." "D'y'ear," he added, bending over the bed, "I've got the -beef. Shall I bile it now?"</p> - -<p>But old Jerry Cater's eyes still saw nothing and he heard not, though -his shrunken chest and shoulders heaved with the last shudders of the -cough that had exhausted him. So Greer stepped lightly to the cupboard -and restored the fire policy and the receipts to the pickle-jar. He -kept the will.</p> - -<p>Greer made preparations for cooking the beef, and as he did so he -encountered another phenomenon. "Well, he have bin a goin' of it!" said -Greer. "Blow me if he ain't bin readin' the Bible now!"</p> - -<p>A large, ancient, worn old Bible, in a rough calf-skin cover, lay on a -chair by old Cater's hand. It had probably been the family Bible of the -Caters for generations back, for certainly old Jerry Cater would never -have bought such a thing. For many years it had accumulated dust on a -distant shelf among certain out-of-date account-books, but Greer had -never heard of its being noticed before. "Feels he goin', that's about -it," Greer mused as he pitched the Bible back on the shelf to make room -for his utensils. "But I shouldn't ha' thought 'e'd take it sentimental -like that—readin' the Bible an' lettin' in the free air of 'eaven to -make 'im cough 'isself blind."</p> - -<p>The beef-tea was set simmering, and still old Cater lay impotent. -The fit of prostration was longer than any that had preceded it, and -presently Greer thought it might be well to call the doctor. Call him -he did accordingly (the surgery was hard by), and the doctor came. -Jerry Cater revived a little, sufficiently to recognise the doctor, but -it was his last effort. He lived another hour and a half. Greer kept -the change and had the beef-tea as well. The doctor gave his opinion -that the old man had risen in delirium and had expended his last -strength in moving about the room and opening the window.</p> - - -<p class="center">II</p> - -<p>Samuel Greer found somewhere near two pounds in silver in the small -canvas bag under the dead man's pillow. No more money, however, -rewarded his hasty search about the bedroom, and when Sinclair returned -Greer set off to carry the news to Paul Cater, the dead man's nephew.</p> - -<p>The respectable Greer had considered well the matter of the will, -and saw his way, he fancied, at least to a few pounds by way -of compensation for his loss of employment and the ungrateful -forgetfulness of his late employer. The two sheets comprised, in fact, -not a simple will merely, but a will and a codicil, each on one of the -sheets, the codicil being a year or two more recent than the will. -Nobody apparently knew anything of these papers, and it struck Greer -that it was now in his power to prevent anybody learning, unless an -interested party were disposed to pay for the disclosure. That was -why he now took his way toward the establishment of Paul Cater, for -the will made Paul Cater not only sole executor, but practically sole -legatee. Wherefore Greer carefully separated the will from the codicil, -intending the will alone for sale to Paul Cater. Because, indeed, the -codicil very considerably modified it, and might form the subject of -independent commerce.</p> - -<p>Paul Cater made a less miserly show than had been the wont of his -uncle. His house was in a street in Pimlico, the ground-floor front -room of which was made into an office, with a wire blind carrying his -name in gilt letters. Perhaps it was that Paul Cater carried his -covetousness to a greater refinement than his uncle had done, seeing -that a decent appearance is a commercial advantage by itself, bringing -a greater profit than miserly habits could save.</p> - -<p>The man of general dealings was balancing his books when Greer arrived, -but at the announcement of his uncle's death he dropped everything. He -was not noticeably stricken with grief, unless a sudden seizure of his -hat and a roaring aloud for a cab might be considered as indications -of affliction; for in truth Paul Cater knew well that it was a case in -which much might depend on being first at Bermondsey Wall. The worthy -Greer had scarce got the news out before he found himself standing in -the street while Cater was giving directions to a cabman. "Here—you -come in too," said Cater, and Greer was bustled into the cab.</p> - -<p>It was plainly a situation in which half-crowns should not be too -reluctantly parted with. So Paul Cater produced one and presented it. -Cater was a strong-faced man of fifty odd, with a tight-drawn mouth -that proclaimed everywhere a tight fist; so that the unaccustomed -passing over of a tip was a noticeably awkward and unspontaneous -performance, and Greer pocketed the money with little more -acknowledgment than a growl.</p> - -<p>"Do you know where he put the will?" asked Paul Cater with a keen -glance.</p> - -<p>"Will?" answered Greer, looking him blankly in the face—the gaze of -one eye passing over Cater's shoulder and that of the other seeming to -seek his boots. "Will? P'raps 'e never made one."</p> - -<p>"Didn't he?"</p> - -<p>"That 'ud mean, lawfully, as the property would come to you an' Mr. -Flint—'arves. Bein' all personal property. So I'd think." And Greer's -composite gaze blankly persisted.</p> - -<p>"But how do you know whether he made a will or not?"</p> - -<p>"'Ow do I know? Ah, well, p'raps I dunno. It's only fancy like. I -jist put it to you—that's all. It 'ud be divided atween the two of -you." Then, after a long pause, he added: "But lor! it 'ud be a pretty -fine thing for you if he did leave a will, and willed it all to you, -wouldn't it? Mighty fine thing! An' it 'ud be a mighty fine thing for -Mr. Flint if there was a will leaving it all to him, wouldn't it? -Pretty fine thing!"</p> - -<p>Cater said nothing, but watched Greer's face sharply. Greer's face, -with its greasy features and its irresponsible squint, was as -expressive as a brick. They travelled some distance in silence. Then -Greer said musingly, "Ah, a will like that 'ud be a mighty fine thing! -What 'ud you be disposed to give for it now?"</p> - -<p>"Give for it? What do you mean? If there's a will there's an end to it. -Why should I give anything for it?"</p> - -<p>"Jist so—jist so," replied Greer, with a complacent wave of the hand. -"Why should you? No reason at all, unless you couldn't find it without -givin' something."</p> - -<p>"See here, now," said Cater sharply, "let us understand this. Do you -mean that there is a will, and you know that it is hidden, and where it -is?"</p> - -<p>Greer's squint remained impenetrable. "Hidden? Lor!—'ow should I know -if it was hidden? I was a-puttin' of a case to you."</p> - -<p>"Because," Cater went on, disregarding the reply, "if that's the case, -the sooner you out with the information the better it'll be for you. -Because there are ways of making people give up information of that -sort for nothing."</p> - -<p>"Yes—o' course," replied the imperturbable Greer. "O' course there is. -An' quite right too. Ah, it's a fine thing is the lawr—a mighty fine -thing!"</p> - -<p>The cab rattled over the stones of Bermondsey Wall, and the two -alighted at the door through which old Jerry Cater was soon to come -feet first. Sinclair was back, much disturbed and anxious. At sight of -Paul Cater the poor fellow, weak and broken-spirited, left the house as -quietly as he might. For years of grinding habit had inured him to the -belief that in reality old Cater had treated him rather well, and now -he feared the probable action of the heirs.</p> - -<p>"Who was that?" asked Paul Cater of Greer. "Wasn't it the clerk that -owed my uncle the money?"</p> - -<p>Greer nodded.</p> - -<p>"Then he's not to come here again—do you hear? I'll take charge of the -books and things. As to the debt—well, I'll see about that after. And -now look here." Paul Cater stood before Greer and spoke with decision. -"About that will, now. Bring it."</p> - -<p>Greer was not to be bluffed. "Where from?" he asked innocently.</p> - -<p>"Will you stand there and tell me you don't know where it is?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe I'd best stand here and tell you what pays me best."</p> - -<p>"Pay you? How much more do you want? Bring me that will, or I'll have -you in gaol for stealing it!"</p> - -<p>"Lor!" answered Greer composedly, conscious of holding another trump -as well as the will. "Why, if there <i>was</i> anybody as knowed where the -will was, and you talked to him as violent as that 'ere, why, you'd -frighten him so much he'd as likely as not go out and get a price from -your cousin, Mr. Flint. Whatever was in the will it might pay him to -get hold of it."</p> - -<p>At this moment there came a furious knocking at the front door. "Why," -Greer continued, "I bet that's him. It can't be nobody else—I bet the -doctor's told him, or summat."</p> - -<p>They were on the first-floor landing, and Greer peeped from a -broken-shuttered window that looked on the street. "Yes," he said, -"that's Mr. Flint sure enough. Now, Mr. Paul Cater, business. Do you -want to see that will before I let Mr. Flint in?"</p> - -<p>"Yes!" exclaimed Cater furiously, catching at his arm. "Quick—where is -it?"</p> - -<p>"I want twenty pound."</p> - -<p>"Twenty pound! You're mad! What for?"</p> - -<p>"All right, if I'm mad, I'll go an' let Mr. Flint in."</p> - -<p>The knocking was repeated, louder and longer.</p> - -<p>"No," cried Cater, getting in his way. "You know you mustn't conceal a -will—that's law. Give it up."</p> - -<p>"What's the law that says I must give it up to you, 'stead of yer -cousin? <i>If</i> there's a will it may say anythin'—in yer favour or out -of it. If there ain't, you'll git 'alf. The will might give you more, -or it might give you less, or it might give you nothink. Twenty pound -for first look at it 'fore Flint comes in, and do what you like with it -'fore he knows anythink about it."</p> - -<p>Again the knocking came at the door, this time supplemented by kicks.</p> - -<p>"But I don't carry twenty pound about with me!" protested Cater, waving -his fists. "Give me the will and come to my office for the money -to-morrow!"</p> - -<p>"No tick for this sort of job," answered Greer decisively. "Sorry I -can't oblige you—I'm goin' down to the front door." And he made as -though to go.</p> - -<p>"Well, look here!" said Cater desperately, pulling out his pocket-book. -"I've got a note or two, I think——"</p> - -<p>"'Ow much?" asked Greer, calmly laying hold of the pocket-book. "Two at -least. Two fivers. Well, I'll let it go at that. Give us hold." He took -the notes, and pulled out the will from his pocket. Flint, outside, -battered the door once more.</p> - -<p>"Why," exclaimed Cater as he glanced over the sheet, "I'm sole executor -and I get the lot! Who are these witnesses?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, they're all right. Longshore hands just hereabout. You'll get 'em -any day at the 'Ship and Anchor.'"</p> - -<p>Cater put the will in his breast-pocket. "You'd best get out o' this, -my man," he said. "You've had me for ten pound, and the further you get -from me the safer you'll be."</p> - -<p>"What?" said Greer with a chuckle. "Not even grateful! Shockin'!" He -took his way downstairs, and Cater followed. At the door Flint, a -counterpart of Cater, except that his dress was more slovenly, stood -ragefully.</p> - -<p>"Ah, cousin," said Cater, standing on the threshold and preventing his -entrance, "this is a very sad loss!"</p> - -<p>"Sad loss!" Flint replied with disgust. "A lot you think of the -loss—as much as I do, I reckon. I want to come in."</p> - -<p>"Then you sha'n't!" Cater replied, with a prompt change of manner. -"You shan't! I'm sole executor, and I've got the will in my pocket." -He pulled it out sufficiently far to show the end of the paper, and -then returned it. "As executor I'm in charge of the property, and -responsible. It's vested in me till the will's put into effect. That's -law. And it's a bad thing for anybody to interfere with an executor. -That's law too."</p> - -<p>Flint was angry, but cautious. "Well," he said, "you're uncommon high, -with your will and your executor's law and your 'sad loss,' I must say. -What's your game?"</p> - -<p>For answer Cater began to shut the door.</p> - -<p>"Just you look out!" cried Flint. "You haven't heard the last of this! -You may be executor or it may be a lie. You may have the will or you -may not; anyway I know better than to run the risk of putting myself -in the wrong now. But I'll watch you, and I'll watch this house, and -I'll be about when the will comes to be proved! And if that ain't done -quick, I'll apply for administration myself, and see the thing through!"</p> - - -<p class="center">III</p> - -<p>Samuel Greer sheered off as the cousinly interview ended, well -satisfied with himself. Ten pounds was a fortune to him, and he meant -having a good deal more. He did nothing further till the following -morning, when he presented himself at the shop of Jarvis Flint.</p> - -<p>"Good mornin', Mr. Flint," said Samuel Greer, grinning and squinting -affably. "I couldn't help noticin' as you had a few words yesterday -with Mr. Cater after the sad loss."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"It 'appens as I've seen the will as Mr. Cater was talkin' of, an' I -thought p'raps it 'ud save you makin' mistakes if I told you of it."</p> - -<p>"What about it?" Jarvis Flint was not disposed to accept Greer -altogether on trust.</p> - -<p>"Well it <i>do</i> seem a scandalous thing, certainly, but what Mr. Cater -said was right. He <i>do</i> take the personal property, subjick to debts, -an' he do take the freehold prim'ses. An' he is the 'xecutor."</p> - -<p>"Was the will witnessed?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—two waterside chaps well know'd there-abouts."</p> - -<p>"Was it made by a lawyer?"</p> - -<p>"No—all in the lamented corpse's 'andwritin'."</p> - -<p>"Umph!" Flint maintained his hard stare in Greer's face. "Anything -else?"</p> - -<p>"Well, no, Mr. Flint, sir, p'raps not. But I wonder if there might be -sich a thing as a codicil?"</p> - -<p>"Is there?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I was a-wonderin', that's all. It might make a deal o' difference -in the will, mightn't it? And p'raps Mr. Cater mightn't know anythink -about the codicil."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean? Is there a codicil?"</p> - -<p>"Well, reely, Mr. Flint," answered Greer with a deprecatory -grin—"reely it ain't business to give information for nothink, is it?"</p> - -<p>"Business or not, if you know anything you'll find you'll have to tell -it. I'm not going to let Cater have it all his own way, if he <i>is</i> -executor. My lawyer'll be on the job before you're a day older, my -man, and you won't find it pay to keep things too quiet."</p> - -<p>"But it can't pay worse than to give information for nothink," -persisted Greer. "Come, now, Mr. Flint, s'pose (I don't say there is, -mind—I only say <i>s'pose</i>)—s'pose there <i>was</i> a codicil, and s'pose -that codicil meant a matter of a few thousand pound in your pocket. -And s'pose some person could tell you where to put your hand on that -codicil, what might you be disposed to pay that person?"</p> - -<p>"Bring me the codicil," answered Flint, "and if it's all right I'll -give you—well, say five shillings."</p> - -<p>Greer grinned again and shook his head. "No, reely, Mr. Flint," he -said, "we can't do business on terms like them. Fifty pound down in my -hand now, and it's done. Fifty 'ud be dirt cheap. And the longer you -are a-considerin'—well, you know, Mr. Cater might get hold of it, and -then, why, s'pose it got burnt and never 'eard of agen?"</p> - -<p>Flint glared with round eyes. "You get out!" he said. "Go on! Fifty -pound, indeed! Fifty pound, without my knowing whether you're telling -lies or not! Out you go! I know what to do now, my man!"</p> - -<p>Greer grinned once more, and slouched out. He had not expected to -bring Flint to terms at once. Of course the man would drive him away -at first, and, having got scent of the existence of the codicil, -and supposing it to be somewhere concealed about the old house at -Bermondsey Wall, he would set his lawyer to warn his cousin that the -thing was known, and that he, as executor, would be held responsible -for it. But the trump card, the codicil itself, was carefully stowed in -the lining of Greer's hat, and Cater knew nothing about it. Presently -Flint, finding Cater obdurate, would approach the wily Greer again, and -then he could be squeezed. Meanwhile the hat-lining was as safe a place -as any in which to keep the paper. Perhaps Flint might take a fancy to -have him waylaid at night and searched, in which case a pocket would be -an unsafe repository.</p> - -<p>Flint, on his part, was in good spirits. Plainly there <i>was</i> a codicil, -favourable to himself. Certainly he meant neither to pay Greer for -discovering it—at any rate no such sum as fifty pounds—nor to abate a -jot of his rights. Flint had a running contract with a shady solicitor, -named Lugg, in accordance with which Lugg received a yearly payment -and transacted all his legal business—consisting chiefly of writing -threatening letters to unfortunate debtors. Also, as I think I have -mentioned, Dorrington was working for him at the time, and working at -very cheap rates. Flint resolved, to begin with, to set Dorrington -and Lugg to work. But first Dorrington—who, as a matter of fact, was -in Flint's back office during the interview with Greer. Thus it was -that in an hour or two Dorrington found himself in active pursuit of -Samuel Greer, with instructions to watch him closely, to make him drunk -if possible, and to get at his knowledge of the codicil by any means -conceivable.</p> - - -<p class="center">IV</p> - -<p>On the morning of the day after his talk with Flint, Samuel Greer -ruminated doubtfully on the advisability of calling on the ship-store -dealer again, or waiting in dignified silence till Flint should -approach him. As he ruminated he rubbed his chin, and so rubbing it -found it very stubbly. He resolved on the luxury of a penny shave, -and, as he walked the street, kept his eyes open for a shop where the -operation was performed at that price. Mr. Flint, at any rate, could -wait till his chin was smooth. Presently, in a turning by Abbey Street, -Bermondsey, he came on just such a barber's shop as he wanted. Within, -two men were being shaved already, and another waiting; and Greer felt -himself especially fortunate in that three more followed at his heels. -He was ahead of their turns, anyhow. So he waited patiently.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus021.jpg" alt="WALK" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"HIS WALK WAS UNSTEADY."</p> - -<p>The man whose turn was immediately before his own did not appear to be -altogether sober. A hiccough shook him from time to time; he grinned -with a dull glance at a comic paper held upside down in his hand, and -when he went to take his turn at a chair his walk was unsteady. The -barber had to use his skill to avoid cutting him, and he opened his -mouth to make remarks at awkward times. Then Greer's turn came at the -other chair, and when his shave was half completed he saw the unsteady -customer rise, pay his penny, and go out.</p> - -<p>"Beginnin' early in the mornin'!" observed one customer.</p> - -<p>The barber laughed. "Yes," he said. "He wants to get a proper bust on -before he goes to bed, I s'pose."</p> - -<p>Samuel Greer's chin being smooth at last, he rose and turned to where -he had hung his hat. His jaw dropped, and his eyes almost sprang out to -meet each other as he saw—a bare peg! The unsteady customer had walked -off with the wrong hat—his hat, and—the paper concealed inside!</p> - -<p>"Lor!" cried the dismayed Greer, "he's took my hat!"</p> - -<p>All the shopful of men set up a guffaw at this. "Take 'is then," said -one. "It's a blame sight better one than yourn!"</p> - -<p>But Greer, without a hat, rushed into the street, and the barber, -without his penny, rushed after him. "Stop 'im!" shouted Greer -distractedly. "Stop thief!"</p> - -<p>Thus it was that Dorrington, at this time of a far less well-groomed -appearance than was his later wont, watching outside the barber's, -observed the mad bursting forth of Greer, followed by the barber. After -the barber came the customers, one grinning furiously beneath a coating -of lather.</p> - -<p>"Stop 'im!" cried Greer. "'E's got my 'at! Stop 'im!"</p> - -<p>"You pay me my money," said the barber, catching his arm. "Never mind -yer 'at—you can 'ave 'is. But just you pay me first."</p> - -<p>"Leave go! You're responsible for lettin' 'im take it, I tell you! It's -a special 'at—valuable; leave go!"</p> - -<p>Dorrington stayed to hear no more. Three minutes before he had observed -a slightly elevated navvy emerge from the shop and walk solemnly -across the street under a hat manifestly a size or two too small for -him. Now Dorrington darted down the turning which the man had taken. -The hat was a wretched thing, and there must be some special reason -for Greer's wild anxiety to recover it, especially as the navvy must -have left another, probably better, behind him. Already Dorrington had -conjectured that Greer was carrying the codicil about with him, for he -had no place else to hide it, and he would scarcely have offered so -confidently to negotiate over it if it had been in the Bermondsey Wall -house, well in reach of Paul Cater. So he followed the elevated navvy -with all haste. He might never have seen him again were it not that the -unconscious bearer of the fortunes of Flint (and, indeed, Dorrington) -hesitated for a little while whether or not to enter the door of a -public-house near St. Saviour's Dock. In the end he decided to go on, -and it was just as he had started that Dorrington sighted him again.</p> - -<p>The navvy walked slowly and gravely on, now and again with a swerve -to the wall or the curb, but generally with a careful and laboured -directness. Presently he arrived at a dock-bridge, with a low iron -rail. An incoming barge attracted his eye, and he stopped and solemnly -inspected it. He leaned on the low rail for this purpose, and as he did -so the hat, all too small, fell off. Had he been standing two yards -nearer the centre of the bridge it would have dropped into the water. -As it was it fell on the quay, a few feet from the edge, and a dockman, -coming toward the steps by the bridge-side, picked it up and brought it -with him.</p> - -<p>"Here y'are, mate," said the dockman, offering the hat.</p> - -<p>The navvy took it in lofty silence, and inspected it narrowly. Then he -said, "'Ere—wot's this? This ain't my 'at!" And he glared suspiciously -at the dockman.</p> - -<p>"Ain't it?" answered the dockman carelessly.</p> - -<p>"Aw right then, keep it for the bloke it b'longs to. I don't want it."</p> - -<p>"No," returned the navvy with rising indignation, "but I want mine, -though! Wotcher done with it? Eh? It ain't a rotten old 'un like this -'ere. None o' yer 'alf-larks. Jist you 'and it over, come on!"</p> - -<p>"'And wot over?" asked the dockman, growing indignant in his turn. "You -drops yer 'at over the bridge like some kid as can't take care of it, -and I brings it up for ye. 'Stead o' sayin' thank ye, 'like a man, y' -asks me for another 'at! Go an' bile yer face!" And he turned on his -heel.</p> - -<p>"No, ye don't!" bawled the navvy, dropping the battered hat and making -a complicated rush at the other's retreating form. "Not much! You gimme -my 'at!" And he grabbed the dockman anywhere, with both hands.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus022.jpg" alt="DOCKMAN" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption">"A MINGLED BUNCH OF DOCKMAN AND NAVVY WAS FLOUNDERING -ABOUT THE STREET."</p> - -<p>The dockman was as big as the navvy, and no more patient. He -immediately punched his assailant's nose; and in three seconds a -mingled bunch of dockman and navvy was floundering about the street. -Dorrington saw no more. He had the despised hat in his hand, and, -general attention being directed to the action in progress, he hurried -quietly up the nearest court.</p> - - -<p class="center">V</p> - -<p>Samuel Greer, having got clear of the barber by paying his penny, was -in much perplexity, and this notwithstanding his acquisition of the -navvy's hat, a very decent bowler, which covered his head generously -and rested on his ears. What should be the move now? His hat was clean -gone, and the codicil with it. To find it again would be a hopeless -task, unless by chance the navvy should discover his mistake and return -to the barber's to make a rectification of hats. So Samuel Greer -returned once more to the barber's, and for the rest of the day called -again and again fruitlessly. At first the barber was vastly amused, and -told the story to his customers, who laughed. Then the barber got angry -at the continual worrying, and at the close of the day's barbering he -earned his night's repose by pitching Samuel Greer neck and crop into -the gutter. Samuel Greer gathered himself up disconsolately, surrounded -his head with the navvy's hat, and shuffled off to the "Ship and -Anchor."</p> - -<p>At the "Ship and Anchor" he found one Barker, a decayed and sodden -lawyer's clerk out of work. Greer's temporary affluence enabling -him to stand drinks, he was presently able, by putting artfully -hypothetical cases, to extract certain legal information from Barker. -Chiefly he learned that if a will or a codicil were missing, it might -nevertheless be possible to obtain probate of it by satisfying the -court with evidence of its contents and its genuineness. Here, at any -rate, was a certain hope. He alone, apparently, of all persons, knew -the contents of the codicil and the names of the witnesses; and since -it was impossible to sell the codicil, now that it was gone, he might -at least sell his evidence. He resolved to offer his evidence for sale -to Flint at once, and take what he could get. There must be no delay, -for possibly the navvy might find the paper in the hat and carry it to -Flint, seeing that his name was beneficially mentioned in it, and his -address given. Plainly the hat would not go back to the barber's now. -If the drunken navvy had found out his mistake he probably had not the -least notion where he had been nor where the hat had come from, else he -would have returned it during the day, and recovered his own superior -property. So Samuel Greer went at once, late as it was, and knocked up -Mr. Flint.</p> - -<p>Flint congratulated himself, feeling sure that Greer had thought better -of his business and had come to give his information for anything he -could get. Greer, on his part, was careful to conceal the fact that the -codicil had been in his possession and had been lost. All he said was -that he had seen the codicil, that its date was nine months later than -that of the will, and that it benefited Jarvis Flint to the extent of -some ten thousand pounds; leaving Flint to suppose, if he pleased, that -Cater, the executor, had the codicil, but would probably suppress it. -Indeed this was the conclusion that Flint immediately jumped at.</p> - -<p>And the result of the interview was this: Flint, with much grudging and -reluctance, handed over as a preliminary fee the sum of one pound, the -most he could be screwed up to. Then it was settled that Greer should -come on the morrow and consult with Flint and his solicitor Lugg, the -object of the consultation being the construction of a consistent tale -and a satisfactory <i>soi-disant</i> copy of the codicil, which Greer was -to swear to, if necessary, and armed with which Paul Cater might be -confronted and brought to terms.</p> - -<p>It may be wondered why, ere this, Flint had not received the genuine -codicil itself, recovered by Dorrington from Greer's hat. The fact was -that Dorrington, as was his wont, was playing a little game of his own. -Having possessed himself of the codicil, he was now in a position to -make the most from both sides, and in a far more efficient manner than -the clumsy Greer. People of Jarvis Flint's sordid character are apt, -with all their sordid keenness, to be wonderfully short-sighted in -regard to what might seem fairly obvious to a man of honest judgment. -Thus it never occurred to Flint that a man like Dorrington, willing, -for a miserable wage, to apply his exceptional subtlety to the -furtherance of his employer's rascally designs, would be at least as -ready to swindle that master on his own account when the opportunity -offered; would be, in fact, the more ready, in proportion to the -stinginess wherewith his master had treated him.</p> - -<p>Having found the codicil, Dorrington's procedure was not to hand it -over forthwith to Flint. It was this: first he made a careful and exact -copy of the codicil; then he procured two men of his acquaintance, men -of good credit, to read over the copy, word for word, and certify it -as being an exact copy of the original by way of a signed declaration -written on the back of the copy. Then he was armed at all points.</p> - -<p>He packed the copy carefully away in his pocket-book, and with the -original in his coat pocket, he called at the house in Bermondsey -Wall, where Paul Cater had taken up his quarters to keep guard over -everything till the will should be proved. So it happened that, while -Samuel Greer, Jarvis Flint, and Lugg, the lawyer, were building their -scheme, Dorrington was talking to Paul Cater at Cater's Wharf.</p> - -<p>On the assurance that he had business of extreme importance, Cater -took Dorrington into the room in which the old man had died. Cater -was using this room as an office in which to examine and balance his -uncle's books, and the corpse had been carried to a room below to await -the funeral. Dorrington's clothes at this time, as I have hinted, -were not distinguished by the excellence of cut and condition that -was afterwards noticeable; in point of fact, he was seedy. But his -assurance and his presence of mind were fully developed, and it was -this very transaction that was to put the elegant appearance within -his reach.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Cater," he said, "I believe you are sole executor of the will -of your uncle, Mr. Jeremiah Cater, who lived in this house." Cater -assented.</p> - -<p>"That will is one extremely favourable to yourself. In fact, by it you -become not only sole executor, but practically sole legatee."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"I am here as a man of business and as a man of the world to give you -certain information. There is a codicil to that will."</p> - -<p>Cater started. Then he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as -though he knew better.</p> - -<p>"There is a codicil," Dorrington went on, imperturbably, "executed -in strict form, all in the handwriting of the testator, and dated -nine months later than the will. That codicil benefits your cousin, -Mr. Jarvis Flint, to the extent of ten thousand pounds. To put it in -another way, it deprives <i>you</i> of ten thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>Cater felt uneasy, but he did his best to maintain a contemptuous -appearance. "You're rushing ahead pretty fast," he said, "talking about -the terms of this codicil, as you call it. What I want to know is, -where is it?"</p> - -<p>"That," replied Dorrington, smilingly, "is a question very easily -answered. The codicil is in my pocket." He tapped his coat as he spoke.</p> - -<p>Paul Cater started again, and now he was plainly discomposed. "Very -well," he said, with some bravado, "if you've got it you can show it to -me, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Nothing easier," Dorrington responded affably. He stepped to the -fireplace and took the poker. "You won't mind my holding the poker -while you inspect the paper, will you?" he asked politely. "The fact -is, the codicil is of such a nature that I fear a man of your sharp -business instincts might be tempted to destroy it, there being no other -witness present, unless you had the assurance (which I now give you) -that if you as much as touch it I shall stun you with the poker. There -is the codicil, which you may read with your hands behind you." He -spread the paper out on the table, and Cater bent eagerly and read it, -growing paler as his eye travelled down the sheet.</p> - -<p>Before raising his eyes, however, he collected himself, and as he stood -up he said, with affected contempt, "I don't care a brass farthing for -this thing! It's a forgery on the face of it."</p> - -<p>"Dear me!" answered Dorrington placidly, recovering the paper and -folding it up; "that's very disappointing to hear. I must take it round -to Mr. Flint and see if that is his opinion."</p> - -<p>"No, you mustn't!" exclaimed Cater, desperately. "You say that's a -genuine document. Very well. I'm still executor, and you are bound to -give it to me."</p> - -<p>"Precisely," Dorrington replied sweetly. "But in the strict interests -of justice I think Mr. Flint, as the person interested, ought to have -a look at it first, <i>in case</i> any accident should happen to it in your -hands. Don't you?"</p> - -<p>Cater knew he was in a corner, and his face betrayed it.</p> - -<p>"Come," said Dorrington in a more business-like tone. "Here is the -case in a nutshell. It is my business, just as it is yours, to get as -much as I can for nothing. In pursuance of that business I quietly got -hold of this codicil. Nobody but yourself knows I have it, and as to -<i>how</i> I got it you needn't ask, for I sha'n't tell you. Here is the -document, and it is worth ten thousand pounds to either of two people, -yourself and Mr. Flint, your worthy cousin. I am prepared to sell it -at a very great sacrifice—to sell it dirt cheap, in fact, and I give -you the privilege of first refusal, for which you ought to be grateful. -One thousand pounds is the price, and that gives you a profit of nine -thousand pounds when you have destroyed the codicil—a noble profit of -nine hundred per cent. at a stroke! Come, is it a bargain?"</p> - -<p>"What?" ejaculated Cater, astounded. "A thousand pounds?"</p> - -<p>"One thousand pounds exactly," replied Dorrington complacently, "and a -penny for the receipt stamp—if you want a receipt."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Cater, "you're mad. A thousand pounds! Why, it's absurd!"</p> - -<p>"Think so?" remarked Dorrington, reaching for his hat. "Then I must see -if Mr. Flint agrees with you, that's all. He's a man of business, and -I never heard of his refusing a certain nine hundred per cent. profit -yet. Good-day!"</p> - -<p>"No, stop!" yelled the desperate Cater. "Don't go. Don't be -unreasonable now—say five hundred and I'll write you a cheque."</p> - -<p>"Won't do," answered Dorrington, shaking his head. "A thousand is the -price, and not a penny less. And not by cheque, mind. I understand -all moves of that sort. Notes or gold. I wonder at a smart man like -yourself expecting me to be so green."</p> - -<p>"But I haven't the money here."</p> - -<p>"Very likely not. Where's your bank? We'll go there and get it."</p> - -<p>Cater, between his avarice and his fears, was at his wits' end. "Don't -be so hard on me, Mr. Dorrington," he whined. "I'm not a rich man, I -assure you. You'll ruin me!"</p> - -<p>"Ruin you? What <i>do</i> you mean? I give you ten thousand pounds for one -thousand and you say I ruin you! Really, it seems too ridiculously -cheap. If you don't settle quickly, Mr. Cater, I shall raise my terms, -I warn you!"</p> - -<p>So it came about that Dorrington and Cater took cab together for a -branch bank in Pimlico, whence Dorrington emerged with one thousand -pounds in notes and gold, stowed carefully about his person, and Cater -with the codicil to his uncle's will, which half an hour later he had -safely burnt.</p> - - -<p class="center">VI</p> - -<p>So much for the first half of Dorrington's operation. For the second -half he made no immediate hurry. If he had been aware of Samuel -Greer's movements and Lugg's little plot he might have hurried, but as -it was he busied himself in setting up on a more respectable scale by -help of his newly-acquired money. But he did not long delay. He had the -attested copy of the codicil, which would be as good as the original if -properly backed with evidence in a court of law. The astute Cater, wise -in his own conceit, just as was his equally astute cousin Flint, had -clean overlooked the possibility of such a trick as this. And now all -Dorrington had to do was to sell the copy for one more thousand pounds -to Jarvis Flint.</p> - -<p>It was on the morning of old Jerry Cater's funeral that he made his -way to Deptford to do this, and he chuckled as he reflected on the -probable surprise of Flint, who doubtless wondered what had become of -his sweated inquiry agent, when confronted with his offer. But when -he arrived at the ship-store shop he found that Flint was out, so he -resolved to call again in the evening.</p> - -<p>At that moment Jarvis Flint, Samuel Greer, and Lugg the lawyer were at -the house in Bermondsey Wall attacking Paul Cater. Greer, foreseeing -probable defiance by Cater from a window, had led the party in by the -wharf door and so had taken Cater by surprise. Cater was in a suit of -decent black, as befitted the occasion, and he received the news of the -existence of a copy of the codicil he had destroyed with equal fury and -apprehension.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What do you mean? I'm not to be -bluffed like this! You talk about a codicil—where is it? Where is it, -eh?"</p> - -<p>"My dear sir," said Lugg peaceably—he was a small, snuffy man—"we are -not here to make disturbances or quarrels, or breaches of the peace; we -are here on a strictly business errand, and I assure you it will be for -your best interests if you listen quietly to what we have to say. Ahem! -It seems that Mr. Samuel Greer here has frequently seen the codicil——"</p> - -<p>"Greer's a rascal—a thief—a scoundrel!" cried the irate Cater, -shaking his fist in the thick of Greer's squint. "He swindled me out of -ten pounds! He——"</p> - -<p>"Really, Mr. Cater," Lugg interposed, "you do no good by such -outbursts, and you prevent my putting the case before you. As I was -saying, Mr. Greer has frequently seen the codicil, and saw it, indeed, -on the very day of the late Mr. Cater's decease. You may not have -come across it, and, indeed, there may be some temporary difficulty -in finding the original. But fortunately Mr. Greer took notes of the -contents and of the witnesses' names, and from those notes I have -been able to draw up this statement, which Mr. Greer is prepared to -subscribe to, by affidavit or declaration, if by any chance you may be -unable to produce the original codicil."</p> - -<p>Cater, seeing his thousand pounds to Dorrington going for nothing, and -now confronted with the fear of losing ten thousand pounds more, could -scarce speak for rage. "Greer's a liar, I tell you!" he spluttered -out. "A liar, a thief, a scoundrel! His word—his affidavit—his -oath—anything of his—isn't worth a straw!"</p> - -<p>"That, my dear sir," Lugg proceeded equably, "is a thing that may -remain for the probate court, and possibly a jury, to decide upon. -In the meantime permit me to suggest that it will be better for all -parties—cheaper in fact—if this matter be settled out of court. I -think, if you will give the matter a little calm and unbiassed thought, -you will admit that the balance of strength is altogether with our -case. Would you like to look at the statement? Its effect, you will -see, is, roughly speaking, to give my client a legacy of say about -ten thousand pounds in value. The witnesses are easily produced, and -really, I must say, for my part, if Mr. Greer, who has nothing to gain -or lose either way, is prepared to take the serious responsibility of -swearing a declaration——"</p> - -<p>"I don't believe he will!" cried Cater, catching at the straw. "I don't -believe he will. Mind, Greer," he went on, "there's penal servitude for -perjury!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Greer answered, speaking for the first time, with a squint and a -chuckle, "so there is. And for stealin' an' suppressin' dockyments, I'm -told. I'm ready to make that 'ere declaration."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe he is!" Cater said, with an attempt to affect -indifference. "And anyhow, I needn't take any notice of it till he -does."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Lugg accommodatingly, "there need be no difficulty -or delay about that. The declaration's all written out, and I'm a -commissioner to administer oaths. I think that's a Bible I see on the -shelf there, isn't it?" He stepped across to where the old Bible had -lain since Greer flung it there, just before Jerry Cater's death. He -took the book down and opened it at the title-page. "Yes," he said, "a -Bible; and now—why—what? what?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Lugg stood suddenly still and stared at the fly-leaf. Then he said -quietly, "Let me see, it was on Monday last that Mr. Cater died, was it -not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Late in the afternoon?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then, gentlemen, you must please prepare yourselves for a surprise. -Mr. Cater evidently made another will, revoking all previous wills and -codicils, on the very day of his death. And here it is!" He extended -the Bible before him, and it was plain to see that the fly-leaf was -covered with the weak, straggling handwriting of old Jerry Cater—a -little weaker and a little more straggling than that in the other will, -but unmistakably his.</p> - -<p>Flint stared, perplexed and bewildered, Greer scratched his head and -squinted blankly at the lawyer. Paul Cater passed his hand across his -forehead and seized a tuft of hair over one temple as though he would -pull it out. The only book in the house that he had not opened or -looked at during his stay was the Bible.</p> - -<p>"The thing is very short," Lugg went on, inclining the writing to the -light. "'<i>This is the last will and testament of me, Jeremiah Cater, of -Cater's Wharf. I give and bequeath the whole of the estate and property -of which I may die possessed, whether real or personal, entirely and -absolutely to—to—</i>' what is the name? Oh yes—'<i>to Henry Sinclair, my -clerk——</i>'"</p> - -<p>"What?" yelled Cater and Flint in chorus, each rising and clutching at -the Bible. "Not Sinclair! No! Let me see!"</p> - -<p>"I think, gentlemen," said the solicitor, putting their hands aside, -"that you will get the information quickest by listening while I -read. '<i>——to Henry Sinclair, my clerk. And I appoint the said Henry -Sinclair my sole executor. And I wish it to be known that I do this, -not only by way of reward to an honest servant, and to recompense him -for his loss in loan transactions with me, but also to mark my sense -of the neglect of my two nephews. And I revoke all former wills and -codicils.</i>' Then follows date and signature and the signatures of -witnesses—both apparently men of imperfect education."</p> - -<p>"But you're mad—it's impossible!" exclaimed Cater, the first to find -his tongue. "He <i>couldn't</i> have made a will then—he was too weak. -Greer knows he couldn't."</p> - -<p>Greer, who understood better than anybody else present the allusion in -the will to the nephews' neglect, coughed dubiously, and said, "Well, -he did get up while I was out. An' when I got back he had the Bible -beside him, an' he seemed pretty well knocked up with something. An' -the winder was wide open—I expect he opened it to holler out as well -as he could to some chaps on the wharf or somewhere to come up by the -wharf door and do the witnessing. An' now I think of it I expect he -sent me out a-purpose in case—well, in case if I knowed I might get up -to summat with the will. He told me not to hurry. An' I expect he about -used himself up with the writin' an' the hollerin' an' the cold air an' -what not."</p> - -<p>Cater and Flint, greatly abashed, exchanged a rapid glance. Then Cater, -with a preliminary cough, said hesitatingly, "Well now, Mr. Lugg, let -us consider this. It seems quite evident to me—and no doubt it will -to you, as my cousin's solicitor—it seems quite evident to me that -my poor uncle could not have been in a sound state of mind when he -made this very ridiculous will. Quite apart from all questions of -genuineness, I've no doubt that a court would set it aside. And in -view of that it would be very cruel to allow this poor man Sinclair -to suppose himself to be entitled to a great deal of money, only to -find himself disappointed and ruined after all. You'll agree with -that, I'm sure. So I think it will be best for all parties if we keep -this thing to ourselves, and just tear out that fly-leaf and burn it, -to save trouble. And on my part I shall be glad to admit the copy of -the codicil you have produced, and no doubt my cousin and I will be -prepared to pay you a fee which will compensate you for any loss of -business in actions—eh?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Lugg was tempted, but he was no fool. Here was Samuel Greer at -his elbow knowing everything, and without a doubt, no matter how well -bribed, always ready to make more money by betraying the arrangement -to Sinclair. And that would mean inevitable ruin to Lugg himself, and -probably a dose of gaol. So he shook his head virtuously and said, -"I couldn't think of anything of the sort, Mr. Cater, not for an -instant. I am a solicitor, and I have my strict duties. It is my duty -immediately to place this will in the hands of Mr. Henry Sinclair, as -sole executor. I wish you a good-day, gentlemen."</p> - -<p>And so it was that old Jerry Cater's money came at last to Sinclair. -And the result was a joyful one, not only for Sinclair and his wife, -but also for a number of poor debtors whose "paper" was part of the -property. For Sinclair knew the plight of these wretches by personal -experience, and was merciful, as neither Flint nor Paul Cater would -have been. The two witnesses to the Bible will turned out to be -bargemen. They had been mightily surprised to be hailed from Jerry -Cater's window by the old man himself, already looking like a corpse. -They had come up, however, at his request, and had witnessed the will, -though neither knew anything of its contents. But they were ready to -testify that it was written in a Bible, that they saw Cater sign it, -and that the attesting signatures were theirs. They had helped the old -man back into bed, and next day they heard that he was dead.</p> - -<p>As for Dorrington, he had a thousand pounds to set him up in a -gentlemanly line of business and villainy. Ignorant of what had -happened, he attempted to tap Flint for another thousand pounds as he -had designed, but was met with revilings and an explanation. Seeing -that the game was finished, Dorrington laughed at both the cousins and -turned his attention to his next case.</p> - -<p>And old Jerry Cater's funeral was attended, as nobody would have -expected, by two very genuine mourners—Paul Cater and Jarvis Flint. -But they mourned, not the old man, but his lost fortune, and Paul Cater -also mourned a sum of one thousand and ten pounds of his own. They had -followed Lugg to the door when he walked off with the Bible in hope -to persuade him, but he saw a wealthy client in prospect in Mr. Henry -Sinclair, and would not allow his virtue to be shaken.</p> - -<p>Samuel Greer walked away from the old house in moody case. Plainly -there were no more pickings available from old Jerry Cater's wills -and codicils. As he trudged by St. Saviour's Dock he was suddenly -confronted by a large navvy with a black eye. The navvy stooped and -inspected a peacock's feather-eye that adorned the band of the hat -Greer was wearing. Then he calmly grabbed and inspected the hat -itself, inside and outside. "Why, blow me if this ain't my 'at!" said -the navvy. "Take that, ye dirty squintin' thief! And that too! And -that!"</p> - - -<p style="margin-top:5em;">UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Dorrington Deed-Box, by Arthur Morrison - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX *** - -***** This file should be named 53341-h.htm or 53341-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/3/4/53341/ - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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