Chapter Eleven
Gideon Mendoza Morse and I sat at supper in a room which differed in no way from the ordinary study of a country gentleman. Except for the very slightest suggestion rather than sensation of vibration, which my host explained was the drag of the City on the three great towers which perpetually oscillated out of the perpendicular, and so ensured the safety of the vast resilient structure, there was nothing to indicate that we were two thousand two hundred feet up in the air.
Our meal was of the simplest, and during it I told Morse, without reservation, all that I had heard from Arthur Winstanley.
"He has the outline very correctly, Sir Thomas. I will fill it in later. How long has Lord Arthur been in London?"
"About five days, I believe."
"Time for many preparations to be made if my enemies are going to strike quickly," he said, more to himself than to me, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth.
Then he looked up. "And these two men who were seen today in the bar of your public house?"
"One, sir, was undoubtedly Midwinter. My very sharp-witted informant describes the other man as a swarthy person of just over middle height and apparently of great personal strength. He was bearded, sallow-faced, and had somewhat the appearance of a half-caste."
"Zorilla y Toro, as I expected," said Morse. "Zorilla the Bull, as he is known in half the Republics of South America."
"No doubt," I remarked, "a formidable pair of ruffians, but remember that I saw you deal with one of them that night at the Ritz Hotel. The way he legged it out of the drawing room wouldn't have inspired me with any particular fear of him."
Morse struck the table with his hand. "I wish I'd sent a bullet through his heart instead of playing fancy fireworks round him. But I feared London and your colossal law and order. It is perfectly true, he didn't influence me in the least on that night. He came to sell his employers, to sell the Hermandad for a hundred thousand pounds."
"It would have been cheaper than this." I waved my hand to indicate the expensive crow's nest of my future father-in-law.
Morse laughed. "It would not have made the least difference," he said. "The man couldn't hurt me at the time, because he had to obey the orders of the villainous Society at his back. The old Marquis da Silva, who is simply a tool in their hands, insisted that I was not to be even interfered with in any way until the two years of grace from my first warning were up. Though their object was to get hold of half my fortune, and Midwinter's to revenge himself personally on me, the Society and he did not dare do anything until the moment struck. There were too many political issues still involved. That is why I made Mr. Mark Antony Midwinter dance out of the Ritz Hotel on that night."
"It's what Arthur Winstanley said."
"That young man will go far. Now, Sir Thomas, I think you understand everything, and you must throw in your lot with Juanita and me, for a time at any rate, and never say you didn't know what you were up against."
I took a glass of claret and lit a cigarette. "I understand the facts, as you say, but I don't understand you. Allowing for all your natural and deep anxiety about Juanita, I simply fail to understand why you regard this Midwinter and his companion or companions with such apprehension. Surely you could have the man locked up tomorrow, knowing what you know about him."
Morse sighed, with a sort of gentle patience. "A few more facts," he said; "and do reflect that it is most improbable that a man of my intelligence and resources should act as he has done without being sure of what he was doing. In the first place, I have had Midwinter watched by the most famous detectives in America, watched for years. None of these people have ever been able quite to bowl him out -- a simile from your English game of cricket. But three of the most trusted and acute agents have lost their lives during these investigations, and lost them in a singularly unpleasant manner."
He sighed again, this time wearily, and I saw that his face was old and without interest or hope.
"What on earth is the use," he went on, "of telling you all I know about this man? Sir," his voice began to rise, and a light came into the dark depths of his eyes, "Sir, if I saw his corpse before me now, I would not believe him dead or his power for evil ended until I had hacked his head from his shoulders with my own hands! You cannot, I say you simply cannot realize or understand the fiendish ingenuity, persistence, and icy cruelty of this being, for I will not insult our common humanity by calling it a man. If Juanita ever gets into his hands----"
His mouth, his whole face, was working. I thought he was going to have a fit, and truth to tell, something icy began to congeal around my own heart.
"Calm yourself, sir," I said, as authoritatively as I could. "Juanita is doubly safe now that I am here, and as for Midwinter, he will never approach us here. It's beyond the wit of mortal man, and, meanwhile, I'll see that he's apprehended and removed from all power of doing harm. I am only a young man, Mr. Morse, but I'm rather a power in the land. I have an important newspaper at my back, and as for you, who have already made the Government feed out of your hand in the matter of these towers, you should have gone to the Home Secretary in the first instance. At any rate, we'll go together, and believe me, we will be listened to."
"I thank you, my dear boy," he replied with an effort, "but there is such a thing as Fate, and Fate has whispered in my ear. I am not naturally a superstitious man, but during a life spent in strange places among strange people I have learnt to be very wary of a material interpretation of life. But this I will say, whatever I feel about myself, however my precautions might fail, I believe that my dear daughter will win to safety in the end; that the power of evil will be overcome, and that you will be her saviour."
I could have sworn, as he shook hands and bade me goodnight, there was a tear in the great man's eye, and I wondered how long it was since anyone had seen that in this master of millions and of men.
A picturesque young Chinese man, a valet in flowing Oriental robes, who spoke English with the most appalling cockney accent you ever heard in your life, conducted me to a charming bedroom, provided me with everything necessary, and in five minutes I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A really full day, wasn't it?