CHAPTER XXX
AT THE DENTIST'S
The dentist himself was left--the last time he was referred to in thischronicle--facing Sawyer and two policemen.
The sight of the policemen caused him to clutch at the door frame forsupport. He thought the moment of his arrest had come, and his kneesseemed to take on a desire to figure as castanets.
The two men touched their caps and did not attempt to enter.
That surprised the dentist. It dawned on him that a salute was not theusual preliminary to an arrest.
One of the men had a note-book in his hand. He spoke:
"Sorry to intrude, sir, but there's a fete on at the Crystal Palace forthe police orphanage. Your name's down on the books as subscribingsomething last year, and we thought we'd just ask if you'd be so kind asto remember the poor orphans again."
What a feeling, what an intense feeling of relief came over him!
Relief! He almost laughed, the tension for a minute had been so great.
"What did I give last year?" he inquired, in as natural a voice as hecould assume.
"Five shillings, sir."
"Then here's the same again. That's all right."
The men thanked him and withdrew. The dentist closed the door and almostsobbed.
Then he changed his mind about the registered letter. Opening the door,he entered the outer room, and took it from Sawyer.
"I'll see to this," he said.
That police visit seemed to have roused some courage in him--it was anelement in his nature that needed a lot of rousing.
Why should he be afraid of every shadow? Where was the need for it?
Unless he betrayed himself--and then he remembered the visit of the manyesterday, the man who had made an appointment for eleven o'clock thatday.
What could that mean? His inquiries, his reference to the American, allthis seemed suspicious.
He would wait another half hour and see. Perhaps after all there was noneed for fright.
During that half hour Sawyer tapped at and opened the door.
"The gent that came yesterday, sir."
"His name?"
"Mr. Brown, sir."
"Show him in."
The dentist braced himself for the interview. He put the envelopecontaining the notes in his table drawer, and looked up as his visitorentered.
"Mr. Brown?"
"That's it."
"You were recommended here, I think, by some one whose teeth I attendedto."
"Well, I don't think you attended to his teeth only."
"No."
"He was rather cut up by your treatment."
Gerald had his eyes fixed on the dentist, and when he had uttered thatdouble meaning remark, he saw the man's face grow pale as death.
He knew then that his bolt had gone home; knew that he was on the righttrack at last.
He adopted bold measures. The dentist's appearance warranted them.
"Sit down, Mr. Lennox. You don't mind my turning the key in the door, sowe shan't be disturbed, do you? That's it."
He seated himself opposite the dentist, and pulled out hishired-for-a-shilling handcuffs.
The effect of their production was electric. He was more than everconvinced that he was right.
"Of course," he said quietly, "you guess the game's up. That little gameyou and your brother played with Mr. George Depew when he came to have atooth out?"
The dentist was incapable of an answer. He sat there as if turned tostone.
Gerald went on:
"I'm of the American detective force--you have perhaps heard of me,Detective Grabbem. I gave the name of Brown to your boy because I didn'twant to give the show away."
Still no answer. Then Gerald said suddenly:
"Where are the nineteen thousand pound notes?"
For answer the tongue-tied dentist with trembling hand opened hisdrawer, and handed Gerald the envelope he had recently given to andtaken from Sawyer.
"You intended them for the London police? I'm from New York."
Gerald opened the envelope and his eyes sparkled as he handled thenotes.
As a measure of precaution he collated the numbers with the entries inhis pocketbook--all were correct.
"I'll take charge of these," he said, as he put the notes in his pocket."Thanks for saving me trouble."
Then Gerald's anxiety was to get away. He said:
"Out of gratitude for saving me bother, is there anything you would likeme to do for you? Want to write to your friends or anything?"
He had got all he wanted, and he decided to leave with it as promptly aspossible. The dentist found his tongue, and said:
"I would be grateful for half an hour for--for the purpose of writing tomy friends."
"It's yours. There is no back way out of this house, I see. I'll justsmoke a pipe outside. No tricks, mind. I'll be back in half an hour."
Gerald went out slowly, lighted a pipe within sight of the dentist'swindow, sauntered with his hands behind him, after the manner of onewaiting, and then when he reached the corner, turned it, and bolted inthe direction of Moorgate Street.
There he hailed a hansom and was rapidly driven to his lodgings. He wasone of the happiest fares in a London cab that day.
And the dentist? He completed the unfinished work of the morning.
No need now for the subtleties of the sharpening stone--all was known.He might as well use the knife in the quickest possible way, and end itall speedily.
His old cowardice came over him. He loathed himself for it, stamped hisfoot and strove to attain the courage needed to draw that sharpsurgeon's knife under his chin.
He knew its edge was razor-like, that one strong, firm draw and allwould be over. But he lacked the nerve.
He almost laughed when he remembered that he had heard it said that asuicide is a coward--he imagined that it required more courage to takeone's own life than another's.
He looked at the clock; he had fooled away five minutes. That braced himup--he must avoid the hangman's attention at any cost.
It was not the loss of his life which had deterred him so much as themethod of losing it.
Then an idea occurred to him. He had the gas apparatus, why not--nosooner thought than he started to put the idea into execution.
He had a little bench whereat he worked in and about the repairing andmaking of false teeth.
At each end were small vises. He fastened the surgeon's long knife intoit after the manner of a man who would sharpen a saw.
It was firm and rigid.
The gas apparatus he put on the bench itself, and leaned over to it, hisneck almost touching the knife.
As he lost consciousness and the power of standing, he knew what wouldhappen; the weight of his whole body would drag his neck on to the keenedge. Long before he could recover consciousness, all would be over.
Then he expelled a deep breath and inhaled the gas.
* * * * *
When Gerald's copy of the _Star_ was brought up to him, a triplehead-lined column caught his eye. It was captioned:
STRANGE DEATH
OF A WELL KNOWN
CITY DENTIST
and it went on to describe the ghastly details of the find in thedentist's room.
It was put down as a pure accident. The boy's evidence about thesharpening of the knives, the extraordinary position in which the bodywas found, were chronicled; there was not the breath of a suspicion ofsuicide.
Perhaps that soul which had taken its flight to another world knewnaught of the happenings in this--would never know that the insuranceoffice paid over the policy moneys, and that the wife and child the deadman had thought so much of benefited by the application of a goldensalve in their time of grief.
And yet--who knows?