CHAPTER II. A NEW CAREER
About twelve months after the interrupted festivities at Daisy Villa,that particular neighbourhood was again the scene of some rejoicing.Standing before the residence of Mr. Barnes were three carriages, drawnin each case by a pair of grey horses. The coachmen and their steedswere similarly adorned with white rosettes. It would have been an insultto the intelligence of the most youthful of the loungers-by to haveinformed them that a wedding was projected.
At the neighbouring church all was ready. The clerk stood at the door,the red drugget was down, the usual little crowd were standing all agogupon the pavement. There was one unusual feature of the proceedings:Instead of a solitary policeman, there were at least a dozen who keptclear the entrance to the church. Their presence greatly puzzled alittle old gentleman who had joined the throng of sightseers. He pushedhimself to the front and touched one of them upon the shoulder.
"Mr. Policeman," he said, "will you tell me why there are so many of youto keep such a small crowd in order?"
"Bridegroom's a member of the force, sir, for one reason," the mananswered good-humouredly.
"And the other?" the old gentleman persisted.
The policeman behaved as though he had not heard--a proceeding which hisnatural stolidity rendered easy. The little old gentleman, however, wasnot so easily put off. He tapped the man once more upon the shoulder.
"And the other reason, Mr. Policeman?" he asked insinuatingly.
"Not allowed to talk about that, sir," was the somewhat gruff reply.
The little old gentleman moved away, a trifle hurt. He was a very nicelydressed old gentleman indeed, and everything about him seemed to savourof prosperity. But he was certainly garrulous. An obviously invitedguest was standing upon the edge of the pavement stroking a pair oflavender kid gloves. The little old gentleman sidled up to him.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, raising his hat. "I am just back fromAustralia--haven't seen a wedding in England for fifty years. Do youthink that they would let me into the church?"
The invited guest looked down at his questioner and approved of him.Furthermore, he seemed exceedingly glad to be interrupted in hissomewhat nervous task of waiting for the wedding party.
"Certainly, sir," he replied cheerfully. "Come along in with me, andI'll find you a seat."
Down the scarlet drugget they went--the big best man with the red handsand the lavender kid gloves and the opulent-looking old gentleman withthe gold-rimmed spectacles and the handsome walking stick.
"Dear me, this is very interesting!" the latter remarked. "Is itthe custom, sir, always, may I ask, in this country, to have so manypolicemen at a wedding?"
The big man looked downward and shook his head.
"Special reason," he said mysteriously. "Fact is, young lady was engagedonce to a very bad character--a burglar whom the police have beenwanting for years. He had to leave the country, but he has written heronce or twice since in a mysterious sort of way--wanted her to be trueto him, and all that sort of thing. Dory--that's the bridegroom--has gota sort of an idea that he may turn up to-day."
"This is very exciting--very!" the little old gentleman remarked."Reminds me of our younger days out in Australia."
"You sit down here," the best man directed, ushering his companioninto an empty pew. "I must get back again outside, or I shall have thebridegroom arriving."
"Good-day to you, sir, and many thanks!" the little old gentleman saidpolitely.
Soon the bridegroom arrived--a smart young officer, well thought of atScotland Yard, well set up, wearing a long tail coat a lilac and whitetie, and shaking in every limb. He walked up the aisle accompanied bythe best man, and the little old gentleman from Australia watched himgenially from behind those gold-rimmed glasses. And, then, scarcely washe at the altar rails when through the open church door one heard thesounds of horses' feet, one heard a rustle, the murmur of voices, caughta glimpse of a waiting group arranging themselves finally in the porchof the church. Maud, on the arm of her father, came slowly up the aisle.The little old gentleman turned his head as though this was somethingupon which he feared to look. He saw nothing of Mr. Barnes, in a newcoat, with tuberose and spray of maidenhair in his coat, and exceedinglytight patent leather boots on his feet; he saw nothing of Mrs. Barnes,clad in a gown of the lightest magenta, with a bonnet smothered withviolets.
It was in the vestry that the only untoward incident of that highlysuccessful wedding took place. The ceremony was over! Bride, bridegroomand parents trooped in. And when the register was opened, one witnesshad already signed! In the clear, precise writing his name stood outupon the virgin page--
Spencer Fitzgerald
The bridegroom swore, the bride nearly collapsed. The clerk pressed intothe hands of the latter an envelope.
"From the little old gentleman," he announced, "who was fussing roundthe church this morning."
Mrs. Dory tore it open and gave a cry of delight. A diamond cross, worthall the rest of her presents put together, flashed soft lights from abackground of dull velvet. Her husband had looked over her shoulder, andwith a scowl seized the morocco case and threw it far from him.
It was the only disturbing incident of a highly successful function!
At precisely the same moment when the wedding guests were seatedaround the hospitable board of Daisy Villa, a celebration of a somewhatdifferent nature was taking place in the more aristocratic neighbourhoodof Curzon Street. Here, however, the little party was a much smallerone, and the innocent gaiety of the gathering at Daisy Villa wasentirely lacking. The luncheon table around which the four men wereseated presented all the unlovely signs of a meal where self-restrainthad been abandoned--where conviviality has passed the bounds of licence.Edibles were represented only by a single dish of fruit; the tablecloth,stained with wine and cigar ash, seemed crowded with every sort ofbottle and every sort of glass. A magnum of champagne, empty, anotherhalf full, stood in the middle of the table; whisky, brandy, liqueurs ofvarious sorts were all represented; glasses--some full, some empty, somefilled with cigar ash and cigarette stumps--an ugly sight!
The guest in chief arose. Short, thick-set, red-faced, with bulbouseyes, and veins about his temples which just now were unpleasantlyprominent, he seemed, indeed, a very fitting person to have been therecipient of such hospitality. He stood clutching a little at thetablecloth and swaying upon his feet. He spoke as a drunken man, butsuch words as he pronounced clearly showed him to be possessed of avoice naturally thick and raspy. It was obvious that he was a person ofentirely different class from his three companions.
"G--gentlemen," he said, "I must be off. I thank you very much forthis--hospitality. Honoured, I'm sure, to have sat down in such--suchcompany. Good afternoon, all!"
He lurched a little toward the door, but his neighbour at the table--whowas also his host--caught hold of his coat tail and pulled him back intohis chair.
"No hurry, Masters," he said. "One more liqueur, eh? It's a rawafternoon."
"N--not another drop, Sir Richard!" the man declared. "Not another dropto drink. I am very much obliged to you all, but I must be off. Must beoff," he repeated, making another effort to rise.
His host held him by the arm. The man resented it--he showed signs ofanger.
"D--n it all! I--I'm not a prisoner, am I?" he exclaimed angrily. "Tellyou I've got--appointment--club. Can't you see it's past five o'clock?"
"That's all right, Masters," the man whom he had addressed as SirRichard declared soothingly. "We want just a word with you on businessfirst, before you go--Colonel Dickinson, Lord Merries and myself."
Masters shook his head.
"See you to-morrow," he declared. "No time to talk business now. Let mego!"
He made another attempt to rise, which his host also prevented.
"Masters, don't be a fool!" the latter said firmly. "You've got to hearwhat we want to say to you. Sit down and listen."
Masters relapsed sullenly into his chair. His little eyes seemed tocree
p closer to one another. So they wanted to talk business! Perhapsit was for that reason that they had bidden him sit at their table--hadentertained him so well! The very thought cleared his brain.
"Go on," he said shortly.
Sir Richard lit a cigarette and leaned further back in his chair. He wasa man apparently about fifty years of age--tall, well dressed, with goodfeatures, save for his mouth, which resembled more than anything arat trap. He was perfectly bald, and he had the air of a man who was acareful liver. His eyes were bright, almost beadlike; his fingers longand a trifle over-manicured. One would have judged him to be what hewas--a man of fashion and a patron of the turf.
"Masters," he said, "we are all old friends here. We want to speak toyou plainly. We three have had a try, as you know--Merries, Dickinsonand myself--to make the coup of our lives. We failed, and we're upagainst it hard."
"Very hard, indeed," Lord Merries murmured softly.
"Deuced hard!" Colonel Dickinson echoed.
Masters was sitting tight, breathing a little hard, looking fixedly athis host.
"Take my own case first," the latter continued. "I am Sir Richard Dyson,ninth baronet, with estates in Wiltshire and Scotland, and a townhouse in Cleveland Place. I belong to the proper clubs for a man in myposition, and, somehow or other--we won't say how--I have managed to paymy way. There isn't an acre of my property that isn't mortgaged for morethan its value. My town house--well, it doesn't belong to me at all! Ihave twenty-six thousand pounds to pay you on Monday. To save my life, Icould not raise twenty-six thousand farthings! So much for me."
The man Masters ground his teeth.
"So much for you!" he muttered.
"Take the case next," Sir Richard continued, "of my friend Merrieshere. Merries is an Earl, it is true, but he never had a penny to blesshimself with. He's tried acting, reporting, marrying--anything to makean honest living. So far, I am afraid we must consider Lord Merries assomething of a failure, eh?"
"A rotten failure, I should say," that young nobleman declared gloomily.
"Lord Merries is, to put it briefly, financially unsound," Sir Richarddeclared.
"What is the amount of your debt to Mr. Masters, Jim?"
"Eleven thousand two hundred pounds," Lord Merries answered.
"And we may take it, I presume, for granted that you have not that sum,nor anything like it, at your disposal?" Sir Richard asked.
"Not a fiver!" Lord Merries declared with emphasis.
"We come now, Mr. Masters, to our friend Colonel Dickinson," SirRichard continued. "Colonel Dickinson is, perhaps, in a more favourablesituation than any of us. He has a small but regular income, and he hasexpectations which it is not possible to mortgage fully. At the sametime, it will be many years before they can--er--fructify. He is,therefore, with us in this somewhat unpleasant predicament in which wefind ourselves."
"Cut it short," Masters growled. "I'm sick of so much talk. What's itall mean?"
"It means simply this, Mr. Masters," Sir Richard said, "we want you totake six months' bills for our indebtedness to you."
Masters rose to his feet. His thick lips were drawn a little apart. Hehad the appearance of a savage and discontented animal.
"So that's why I've been asked here and fed up with wine and stuff, eh?"he exclaimed thickly. "Well, my answer to you is soon given. NO! I'lltake bills from no man! My terms are cash on settling day--cash to payor cash to receive. I'll have no other!"
Sir Richard rose also to his feet.
"Mr. Masters, I beg of you to be reasonable," he said. "You will doyourself no good by adopting this attitude. Facts are facts. We haven'tgot a thousand pounds between us."
"I've heard that sort of a tale before," Masters answered, with a sneer."Job Masters is too old a bird to be caught by such chaff. I'll take myrisks, gentlemen. I'll take my risks."
He moved toward the door. No one spoke a word. The silence as he crossedthe room seemed a little ominous. He looked over his shoulder. They wereall three standing in their places, looking at him. A vague sense ofuneasiness disturbed his equanimity.
"No offence, gents," he said, "and good afternoon!"
Still no reply. He reached the door and turned the handle. The doorwas fast. He shook it--gently at first, and then violently. Suddenly herealized that it was locked. He turned sharply around.
"What game's this?" he exclaimed, fiercely. "Let me out!"
They stood in their places without movement. There was something alittle ominous in their silence. Masters was fast becoming a sober man.
"Let me out of here," he exclaimed, "or I'll break the door down!"
Sir Richard Dyson came slowly towards him. There was something in hisappearance which terrified Masters. He raised his fist to strike thedoor. He was a fighting man, but he felt a sudden sense of impotence.
"Mr. Masters," Sir Richard said suavely, "the truth is that we cannotafford to let you go--unless you agree to do what we have asked. Yousee we really have not the money or any way of raising it--and theinconvenience of being posted you have yourself very ably pointed out.Change your mind, Mr. Masters. Take those bills. We'll do our best tomeet them."
"I'll do nothing of the sort," Masters answered, striking the doorfiercely with his clenched fist. "I'll have cash--nothing but the cash!"
There was a dull, sickening thud, and the bookmaker went over like ashot rabbit. His legs twitched for a moment--a little moan that wasscarcely audible broke from his lips. Then he lay quite still. SirRichard bent over him with the life preserver still in his hand.
"I've done it!" he muttered, hoarsely. "One blow! Thank Heaven, hedidn't want another! His skull was as soft as pudding! Ugh!"
He turned away. The man who lay stretched upon the floor was an uglysight. His two companions, cowering over the table, were not muchbetter. Dyson's trembling fingers went out for the brandy decanter. Halfof what he poured out was spilled upon the tablecloth. The rest he drankfrom a tumbler, neat.
"It's nervous work, this, you fellows," he said, hoarsely.
"It's hellish!" Dickinson answered. "Let's have some air in the room. ByGod, it's close!"
He sank back into his chair, white to the lips. Dyson looked at himsharply.
"Look here," he exclaimed, "I hold you both to our bargain! I was to bethe one he attacked and who struck the blow--in self-defence! Rememberthat--it was in self-defence! I've done it! I've done my share! I hopeto God I'll forget it some day. Andrew, you know your task. Be a man,and get to work!"
Dickinson rose to his feet unsteadily. "Yes!" he said. "What was it? Ihave forgotten, for the moment, but I am ready."
"You must get his betting book from his pocket," Sir Richard directed."Then you must help Merries downstairs with him, and into the car.Merries is--to get rid of him."
Merries shivered. His hand, too, went out for the brandy.
"To get rid of him," he muttered. "It sounds easy!"
"It is easy," Sir Richard declared. "You have only to keep your nerve,and the thing is done. No one will see him inside the car, in thatmotoring coat and glasses. You can drive somewhere out into the countryand leave him."
"Leave him!" Merries repeated, trembling. "Leave him--yes!"
Neither of the two men moved.
"I must do more than my share, I suppose," Sir Richard declaredcontemptuously. "Come!"
They dragged the man's body on to a chair, wrapped a huge coat aroundhim, tied a motoring cap under his chin, fixed goggles over his eyes.Sir Richard strolled into the hall and opened the front door. He stoodthere for a moment, looking up and down the street. When he gavethe signal they dragged him out, supported between them, across thepavement, into the car. Ugh! His attitude was so natural as to beabsolutely ghastly. Merries started the car and sprang into the driver'sseat. There were people in the Square now, but the figure reclining inthe dark, cushioned interior looked perfectly natural.
"So long, Jimmy," Sir Richard called out. "See you this evening."
"Right O!" Merries replied, with a
brave effort.
Peter Ruff, summoned by telephone from his sitting room, slipped downthe stairs like a cat--noiseless, swift. The voice which hadsummoned him had been the voice of his secretary--a voice almostunrecognisable--a voice shaken with fear. Fear? No, it had been terror!
On the landing below, exactly underneath the room from which he haddescended, there was a door upon which his name was written upon a smallbrass plate--Mr. Peter Ruff. He opened and closed it behind him witha swift movement which he had practised in his idle moments. He foundhimself looking in upon a curious scene.
Miss Brown, with the radiance of her hair effectually concealed, inplain black skirt and simple blouse--the ideal secretary--had risen fromthe seat in front of her typewriter, and was standing facing the doorthrough which he had entered, with a small revolver--which he hadgiven her for a birthday present only the day before--clasped in heroutstretched hand. The object of her solicitude was, it seemed to PeterRuff, the most pitiful-looking object upon which he had ever looked. Thehours had dwelt with Merries as the years with some people, and worse.He had lost his cap; his hair hung over his forehead in wild confusion;his eyes were red, bloodshot, and absolutely aflame with the terrorsthrough which he had lived--underneath them the black marks might havebeen traced with a charcoal pencil. His cheeks were livid save for oneburning spot. His clothes, too, were in disorder--the starch had gonefrom his collar, his tie hung loosely outside his waistcoat. He wascowering back against the wall. And between him and the girl, stretchedupon the floor, was the body of a man in a huge motor coat, a limp,inert mass which neither moved nor seemed to have any sign of life. Nowonder that Peter Ruff looked around his office, whose serenity had beenso tragically disturbed, with an air of mild surprise.
"Dear me," he exclaimed, "something seems to have happened! My dearViolet, you can put that revolver away. I have secured the door."
Her hand fell to her side. She gave a little shiver of relief. PeterRuff nodded.
"That is more comfortable," he declared. "Now, perhaps, you willexplain--"
"That young man," she interrupted, "or lunatic--whatever he callshimself--burst in here a few minutes ago, dragging--that!" She pointedto the motionless figure upon the floor. "If I had not stopped him, hewould have bolted off without a word of explanation."
Peter Ruff, with his back against the door, shook his head gravely.
"My dear Lord Merries," he said, "my office is not a mortuary."
Merries gasped.
"You know me, then?" he muttered, hoarsely.
"Of course," Ruff answered. "It is my profession to know everybody. Goand sit down upon that easy-chair, and drink the brandy and soda whichMiss Brown is about to mix for you. That's right."
Merries staggered across the room and half fell into an easy-chair. Heleaned over the side with his face buried in his hands, unable stillto face the horror which lay upon the floor. A few seconds later, thetumbler of brandy and soda was in his hands. He drank it like a man whodrains fresh life into his veins.
"Perhaps now," Peter Ruff suggested, pointing to the motionless figure,"you can give me some explanation as to this!"
Merries looked away from him all the time he was speaking. His voice wasthick and nervous.
"There were three of us lunching together," he began--"four in all.There was a dispute, and this man threatened us. Afterwards there was afight. It fell to my lot to take him away, and I can't get rid of him!I can't get rid of him!" he repeated, with something that sounded like asob.
"I still do not see," Peter Ruff argued, "why you should have broughthim here and deposited him upon my perfectly new carpet."
"You are Peter Ruff," Merries declared. "'Crime Investigator and PrivateDetective,' you call yourself. You are used to this sort of thing. Youwill know what to do with it. It is part of your business."
"I can assure you," Peter Ruff answered, "that you are under a delusionas to the details of my profession. I am Peter Ruff," he admitted, "andI call myself a crime investigator--in fact, I am the only one worthspeaking of in the world. But I certainly deny that I am used tohaving dead bodies deposited upon my carpet, and that I make a habit ofdisposing of them--especially gratis."
Merries tore open his coat.
"Listen," he said, his voice shaking hysterically, "I must get rid ofit or go mad. For two hours I have been driving about in a motor carwith--it for a passenger. I drove to a quiet spot and I tried to liftit out--a policeman rode up! I tried again, a man rushed by on a motorcycle, and turned to look at me! I tried a few minutes later--thepoliceman came back! It was always the same. The night seemed to haveeyes. I was watched everywhere. The--the face began to mock me. I'llswear that I heard it chuckle once!"
Peter Ruff moved a little further away.
"I don't think I'll have anything to do with it," he declared. "I don'tlike your description at all."
"It'll be all right with you," Merries declared eagerly. "It's mynerves, that's all. You see, I was there--when the accident happened.See here," he added, tearing a pocketbook from his coat, "I have threehundred and seventy pounds saved up in case I had to bolt. I'll keepseventy--three hundred for you--to dispose of it!"
Ruff leaned over the motionless body, looked into its face, and nodded.
"Masters, the bookmaker," he remarked. "H'm! I did hear that he had alot of money coming to him over the Cambridgeshire."
Merries shuddered.
"May I go?" he pleaded. "There's the three hundred on the table. ForGod's sake, let me go!"
Peter Ruff nodded.
"I wish you'd saved a little more," he said. "However--"
He turned the lock and Merries rushed out of the room. Ruff lookedacross the room towards his secretary.
"Ring up 1535 Central," he ordered, sharply.