CHAPTER IX
THE FLYMAN
The assailant remained, for a second or two, looking down on hisrecumbent victim. He retained his grip upon his weapon, as ifanticipating the possibility of having to strike with it another blow.But, no, the first had done its work. Mr Holland lay quite still, inan ugly heap, as men only lie who have been stricken hard. Hisassailant touched him with his foot, as if to make quite sure. MrHolland did not resent the intrusion of the other's boot; he evincedno interest in it at all. The man was satisfied.
'That done him.'
It had, for sure. The fellow glanced up and down the street. No onewas in sight. That was a state of things which could hardly beexpected to continue. Time was precious; at any moment a policemanmight appear. Under certain circumstances a policeman is inquisitive.The man, dropping on one knee, began to handle Mr Holland as if he hadbeen so much dead meat; indeed, a butcher might have been expected tofinger the carcase of what he had just now killed with greaterceremony.
'I wonder where he put it.'
He appeared to be searching for something, which, at first, he couldnot find. He went quickly through the stricken man's pockets, emptyingeach in turn of its contents. He made no bones about putting back whathe took out, but threw everything into an inner pocket in his ownjacket. Watch, money, cigar-case, keys, various odds and ends all wentinto the same receptacle. Still he did not appear to light on what hesought.
'Suppose he never got it? That would be a pretty little game. Mycrikey!'
He went through the pockets a second time more methodically; coat,waistcoat, trousers, nothing was omitted. The result wasdisappointing; they all were empty.
'Has he got it in a secret pocket?' Tearing open the waistcoat, he ranhis fingers up and down the lining. 'I can't undress the bloke outhere.' He went carefully over the lining, fingered the trousers. 'Idon't believe he's got it. If he hasn't, then I'm done. It wasn'tworth bashing him for this little lot.' The reference was, possibly,to what he had transferred to his own jacket. 'If he hasn't got it,there'll be trouble. Strikes me I'd better take a little trip into thecountry. He might think I'd got it and done a bunk. I might get a bitout of him like that. If he's anything to get. I wish I'd never gonein for the job. What's that?'
All the while he had never ceased to finger the silent man, submittinghis garments to the minutest possible examination which the positionpermitted. Constantly he glanced behind and in front, well knowingthat the risk of intrusion grew greater with every moment. With whatlooked very like impertinence, he turned the object of his curiosityover on to his face. As he did so his eye was caught by somethingwhich was lying on the pavement, and which apparently had hithertobeen covered by the body of the silent man. It was a ring. He snatchedat it.
'Got it, by the living jingo! The whole time the fool was right on topof it. If I hadn't overed him I might have gone away and thought he'dnever had it after all. That'd been a pretty how-d'ye-do. I suppose hedropped it when I downed him, and covered it when he fell. He mighthave done it on purpose, just to spite me.' He was standing up,turning the ring over and over between his fingers. 'It's all right,there's no mistake about that much. This is fair jam, this is. Athousand quids into my pocket.' Something attracted his attention.'Hollo!--sounded like a footstep--a copper's, unless I'm wrong!'
Without pausing to look behind he crossed the street, keeping wellwithin the shadow of the houses, and walking fast, yet not tooquickly, in the direction of Victoria. As he went he disposed of whathad proved so efficient a weapon. It was a narrow bag, about a coupleof inches in diameter, and a little over a foot in length. It wasstuffed with sand. Untying one end, he allowed the contents to dribbleout into the areas of the houses as he passed. Nothing remained but astrip of canvas. He was cramming this into his pocket as he reachedthe corner of a street into which he turned. A constable was standingon the kerb as if waiting for him to come. His wholly unexpectedappearance might have startled a less skilful practitioner into doingsomething rash. But this gentleman had had too many curiousexperiences to permit himself to readily lose his wits.
'Good-night, p'liceman. Fine night!' he sang out, moving quickly on,as if he were hastening on.
'Good-night,' returned the policeman.
He eyed the other as he passed, as if he wondered who he was, yet wasconscious of no legitimate reason why he should stop him to inquire.
The man drew in the morning air between his teeth, as if he desired toinflate his lungs to the full.
'That was a squeak. It wasn't him I nosed. Who'd have thought that hewas there. If he'd come round the corner a minute or two ago there'dhave probably been fun. Lucky I emptied the bag before I came on him.Hollo! He's going into Victoria Street. If he uses his eyes he'll spotmy bloke in half a minute from now. I'd better put the steam on.'
He quickened his pace, not breaking into a run, for he was aware thatnothing arouses attention more than the sight of a man running at thathour in a London street. But for the next ten minutes he moved at agood five miles an hour, going fair toe-and-heel. Then he slackened,judging that for the present he was safe; and, moreover, he was blown.
By what at least seemed devious ways he steered for Chelsea, to findhimself, at last, in the King's Road. Thence he made for the riverside, pausing before a house which faced the Thames. The house was anold one. In front was a piece of ground which was half yard, halfgarden. The approach to this was guarded by an iron railing and agate. The gate was locked. By it was a rusty bell handle. At this hetugged. Almost immediately a window on the first floor was openedabout three inches. A voice was heard.
'Who's there?'
'It's me, the Flyman.'
'You've been a devil of a time.'
'Couldn't be no quicker.'
The window was shut again. Presently the front door was openedinstead. A man came out. It was Horace Burton. He sauntered to thegate.
'Have you got it?'
'You let me in and then I'll tell you.'
'Don't be an idiot! Tell me, have you got it?'
'I sha'n't tell you nothing till I'm inside.'
'You're an ass! Do you think I want to keep you out?' He fumbled withthe lock. 'Confound this key; it's rusty.'
'Your hand ain't steady; that's what's wrong with it.'
'Hang the thing!'
The key dropped with a clatter to the ground.
'You let me have a try at it; perhaps my hand ain't so shaky asyours.'
The man outside picked up the fallen key, thrusting his hand throughthe railings to enable him to do so. Soon the gate was open. When hehad entered he locked it again behind him. The two men went into thehouse. When they were in the hall Mr Burton repeated his assertion.
'You've been a devil of a time. Do you think I want to stop up allnight waiting for you?'
'That's all right. I'll tell you all about it when we get upstairs.Who's there?'
'Old Cox is there, that's who's there; and he looks to me as if hewere going to stop there the rest of his life--hanged if he doesn't.'
Possibly Mr Burton had been quenching his thirst too frequently withthe idea of speeding the heavy hours of his vigil. The result wasobvious in his speech and his appearance. At the foot of the staircasehe stumbled against the bottom stair. The newcomer proffered hisassistance.
'Steady, governor. Let me lend you a hand.'
Mr Burton was at once upon his dignity.
'Don't you touch me. I don't want your hand. Do you think I don't knowmy way up my own staircase?'
He ascended it as if in doubt. The Flyman kept close behind in case ofaccident. Which fact Mr Burton, when he was half way up, discovered.Steadying himself against the banister he addressed his too-assiduousattendant.
'Might I ask you not to tread upon my heels? Might I also ask you togo down to the bottom of the stairs and wait there till I'm at thetop? There's too much of it.'
'All right, governor. Only don't keep me here too long, that's all.
'
'You haven't kept me long? Oh, no! Not more than thirteen hours.'
When he had reached the top Mr Burton threw open the door of a room inwhich the gas was lighted. In an arm-chair a gentleman was smoking acigar.
'This confounded Flyman thinks that he's the devil knows who. Seems tothink he owns the place. I think I'll have a drink.'
The gentleman in the arm-chair ventured on remonstrance.
'I wouldn't if I were you; at least, not till we've got this businessover.'
'Wouldn't you? Then I would. There's something the matter with thisbeastly siphon.'
The matter was that while he directed the nozzle of the siphon in onedirection he held his glass in another. The result was that the liquordid not go where he intended. So he drank his whisky neat.
While Mr Burton was having his little discussion with the siphon, theman who had described himself as 'the Flyman' came into the room. Hewas rather over the average height, slightly built, with fair hair andmoustache and very pale blue eyes. The eyes were his most peculiarfeature. He was not bad looking, with an agreeable personality; atfirst sight, a likeable man, until you caught his eyes, then youwondered. They were set oddly in his head, so that they seldom seemedto move. He had a trick of regarding you with a curiously immobilestare, which, even when he smiled--which was but rarely--seemed toconvey a latent threat. He was dressed like a respectable artisan, andhad such a low-pitched, clear, musical voice that it was with surpriseone observed how peculiar were his notions of his mother tongue.
As soon as he was inside the room Mr Burton repeated his formerinquiry.
'Now, then, have you got it?'
'I have.'
'Then hand it over.'
Mr Burton held out a tremulous hand.
'Half a mo. I've got a word or two to say before we come to that. Ishould like you to understand how I did get it. It wasn't for theasking, I'd have you know.'
The gentleman in the arm-chair interposed. He waved his cigar.
'One moment.'
'Two, if you like, Mr Cox.'
He was a little, paunchy man, with 'Jew' written so large all over himthat one asked oneself why he had been so ungrateful to hisforefathers as to associate himself with such a name as Cox--ThomasCox. He got out of his chair, which was much too large for him, sothat he could see the Flyman, who still kept himself modestly in thebackground. He punctuated his words by making little dabs in the airwith his cigar.
'What we want is the ruby; that's all we want. We don't want theschedule of your adventures. We're not interested. You understand?'
'Yes, I understand you, Mr Cox, but it don't go.'
'What do you mean, "it don't go"?'
'I'm not all alone in this. There's three of us in this game.'
'Listen to me. You say you've got the ruby. Very well, hand it over. Iwill see you have what Mr Burton promised you. We'll say no more aboutit, and there'll be an end of the matter.'
The Flyman's manner became a trifle dogged.
'I don't hand over nothing till you've heard what I've got to say.'
Something in the speaker's manner struck the observant Mr Cox. Heshowed signs of perturbation.
'Flyman, you haven't killed him?'
'I don't know whether I have or haven't. I hit, perhaps, a bit harderthan I meant. He was as good as dead when I saw him last; anyhow,he'll be silly for the rest of his days, or else I'm wrong. I knowwhat a good downer with a sand bag means. I'm a bit afraid I gave himan extra good one. I didn't like the looks of him at all.'
'You're a fool! Why did you do it?'
'Because you told me?'
'I told you! What the devil do you mean?'
'You set me on the job--you and Mr Burton together. You said to methere's a bloke coming out of a certain house at a certain time. He'sgot something on him which you're to get. You knew very well I wasn'tgoing to get it out of him by asking.'
'Did anyone see you?'
'Not while I was at it, so far as I know. But a copper did directlyafterwards. For all I can tell, he's seen me before, and'll know meagain.'
Mr Cox's perturbation visibly increased.
'Did he--did he try to arrest you?'
'He didn't know what had happened then; but he was going straight towhere I'd left the bloke lying. Then, of course, he'd put two and twotogether, and think of me.'
'Flyman, you're a fool! Did anybody see you come in here?'
'That's more than I can say. But somebody'll soon know I did come inhere if anything happens to me. I'm not going to be on this lay all onmy own.'
Mr Cox threw his unfinished cigar into the fireplace. It had gone out.His attention was occupied by matters which rendered smokingdifficult. He stood knawing the finger-nails of his left hand. TheFlyman watched him. Mr Burton seemed to be endeavouring to obtainsufficient control of his faculties to understand what theconversation was about. Presently Mr Cox delivered himself of theresult of his cogitation.
'I tell you what, I shouldn't be surprised if a little trip abroadwould do you good.'
'I'm willing.'
'Then I'll see that you have a berth on board a boat I know of, whichleaves the London docks to-morrow for America.'
'I'm game.'
'Now, let's have the ruby.'
'Against the quids?'
'Against the quids. You don't suppose that Mr Burton and I carry athousand pounds about with us loose in our pockets?'
'No quids, no ruby.'
'The money shall be handed to you when you're on board the ship.'
'I'll see that the ruby isn't handed to you till it is.'
'Do you think I want to do you?'
'I'm dead sure you do, if you only get a chance. I've done a littlebusiness with you before to-day, Mr Cox. You must think I'm soft. Why,nothing would suit your book better than to do me out of the piecesand get me lagged. But if you try that game, I'll see you get a bit ofit. Thank you; I don't trust you, not as far as I can see you, MrCox.'
The gentleman thus flatteringly alluded to laughed, a littlemechanically.
'I'm sorry to hear you talk like that, Flyman. There's no time now totry to induce you to form a better opinion of me; but you'll discoverthat you have done me an injustice before very long. Anyhow, let's seethat you have the ruby.'
Mr Burton chose this moment to awake to the fact that he had a verydefinite interest in the discussion which was being carried on. Hebanged his glass against the table.
'I'm going to have that ruby! I'm going to have it now!'
'So you shall, when you've given me the thousand pounds.'
'I don't care about the thousand pounds; I'm going to have the ruby!'
'Then, I'm damned if you are!'
'I say I am. Now, then! So you'd better give it to me--before I takeit.'
The speaker staggered towards the Flyman.
'Don't you be silly, Mr Burton, or you might find me nasty; and Idon't want to have to be nasty to you.'
'Give me the ruby; it's mine.'
'That's where you're wrong. Just now it happens to be mine.'
Mr Cox placed himself between the pair.
'Pretend to be sober, Burton, even if you're drunk.'
'I am sober. I don't care that for him.' He tried to snap his fingers,but the attempt was a disastrous failure. 'I say, I'm going to havethe ruby now, and so I am.'
'Shut it!'
Mr Cox's treatment of the intoxicated gentleman was vigorous and tothe point. He gave him a push which propelled him backwards with suchunexpected force that, before he was able to recover himself, he waslying on the ground.
There for a time he stayed. The others paid no attention to himwhatever. Mr Cox continued the discussion on his own account.
'Let me see the ruby.'
'Let me see the quids.'
'Look here, Flyman; you say you know me. Well, I know you; I know youfor a windbag and a liar. It's quite likely that all you've beentelling us is humbug, and that you've not been within miles of what wewant. If you'
ve got the ruby, you let me look at it; there'll be noharm done. I'm not going to buy a pig in a poke, and I'm not going tosteal it.'
'I lay you are not going to steal it; I lay that. There it is. Now,you can take and look at it.'
Taking a ring from his waistcoat pocket, slipping it on to his littleringer, he held it out for the other's inspection, eyeing Mr Cox in avery singular manner as that gentleman bent over to examine it.
'Did you get that from--the person we've been talking about?'
'I did.'
'To-night?'
'To-night. Not an hour ago--as he came out of the house.'
Mr Cox turned to Mr Burton, who was sitting upon the floor.
'Get up, you jackass! Come here and see if this is what we're after.'
Mr Burton's answer was not exactly a response to this peremptoryinvitation.
'I'm not feeling--as I ought to feel.'
'So I should think. You'll soon be feeling still less as you ought tofeel, if you don't look out.' He assisted the gentleman on to hisfeet. 'Now, then, pull yourself together. Come and see if what theFlyman's got is your uncle's ring.'
As Mr Burton advanced, the Flyman dropped the hand with the ringedfinger.
'Don't you let him snatch at it, or I'll down him.'
'He won't snatch at it. You needn't be afraid of him.'
'I'm not afraid of him--hardly; only I thought I'd just give you alittle warning, that's all. There you are, Mr Burton; there's what'sworth more to you than you're likely to tell me.'
Mr Burton only bestowed upon the outstretched hand a momentary glance;he drew back as if what he saw had stung him.
'It's not!'
'What d'ye mean?'
'It's not my uncle's ring.' The fall, or something, had sobered him.He had become disagreeable instead. He snarled, showing his teeth tothe gums, as if he would have liked to assail the man in front of himwith tooth and nail. 'Curse you, Flyman! what's the game you'replaying?'
'What's the game you think you're playing, that's what I want toknow?'
'That's not my uncle's ring, and you know it's not. Come, out with it!no tricks here!'
'This is your uncle's ring, and you're trying to kid me that it isn't,thinking to do me out of what you promised. Don't you try that on, MrBurton, or you'll be sorry.'
The two men glared at each other with their faces close together, MrBurton meeting the Flyman's threatening glances without flinching. Heturned to Mr Cox.
'Cox, what he's got on his finger is no more my uncle's ring than Iam.'
'You're sure of that?'
'Dead certain. The stone in my uncle's ring was much larger, bettercolour, finer altogether. It bore his crest--on that thing there seemsto be a monogram--and inside the gold mount, at the back, his name wasengraved--"George Burton."'
'We can soon settle that part of the question. Flyman, is there a nameinside that ring?'
The Flyman was already looking for himself.
'There's not; there's no name. Is this a plant between you two to dome out of my fair due?'
'Don't you make any mistake about that, my man. If that's the ring wewant you shall have your thousand right enough. It's worth all that tous. If it's not, then it's worth nothing, and less than nothing. Don'tlet's have any error about this, Burton. You're quite sure that yourecollect what your uncle's ring was like?'
'I'd pick it out among ten thousand. I've seen it hundreds--I shouldthink, thousands--of times. I wore it myself for a year. It used toamuse the old man to fool about with it, lending it to all sorts ofpeople. He lent it to me, and he lent it to Guy. I believe he lent itto Miss Bewicke; and it was because, when he asked her, she wouldn'tgive it him back again that he got his back up.'
'I suppose, Flyman, it was Mr Holland you tackled?'
'It was the bloke you pointed out to me this afternoon--that I doknow. Here, I borrowed these things from off him--took them out of hispockets.' He produced a miscellaneous collection. 'Here's a cigar-casewith initials on it, "G. H.," and cards inside with a name on them,"Mr Guy Holland." I should think that that ought to be about goodenough.'
'You're sure that that was the only ring he had about him?'
'I'll swear to it. I ran the rule over him quite half a dozen times.He only had one ring--there wasn't one upon his hands--and that's it.'
'And you, Burton, are certain it's not your uncle's?'
'As sure as that I'm alive.'
'Then, in that case, we're done.'
The trio looked as if they were.