all over the noo. Let the past take care of itsel'.We've got the present to face."
"I have never ceased reflecting upon the past," Sam declared in a ratherlow and husky voice. "I never dreamed that the man Macgregor, in theemploy of the Clyde and Motherwell Works, was the same man to whom I amindebted for my life."
"Ah! man's a problem that puzzles the devil hissel'," laughed Macgregor."I'd nae ha kenned ye were the Statham I knew out there in the old daystill I saw the picture of ye in the _Glasgie News_ one nicht when Ibought it at the corner of Polmadie Street on me way hame. An' therewas a biography of ye--which didn't mention very much. But it was thereal Sam Statham--and Sam Statham was my friend of long ago."
"Most extraordinary!" remarked Levi, who had been smoking quietly andlistening to the conversation. "I had so idea of all this!"
"There are many incidents in my career, Levi, of which you are unaware,"remarked his master drily.
"I have no doubt," retorted the servant in a tone quite as dry as thatof his master's. This was Duncan Macgregor's first visit to Park Lane,and Levi did not approve of him. He always looked askance at any friendof Mr Samuel's of the old days. Everybody who had ever known him inthe unknown and struggling period, now claimed his acquaintance as hisintimate friend, and various and varied were the ruses adopted in orderto endeavour to obtain an interview.
He suspected this hairy Scot--whose bravery in his youth had saved Sam'slife--of working for his own ends.
"This is a strange story of yours, Duncan," remarked the millionaire afew moments later, his eyes fixed upon the seated man--"so strange thatI should not believe it, but for one thing."
"An' what's that?"
"Other information in my possession goes to prove that your surmise isactually correct, and that your apprehension has foundation. I knowthat Adam is in London. I've seen him!"
"An' he's seen you--eh?" cried Macgregor, starting up in alarm.
"Yes, he's seen me."
"Did he speak to ye?"
"No. He watched me through the window from yonder pavement outside."
A silence fell in that warm room where the blinds were still down toexclude the sun, a silence unbroken save by the buzzing of the flies andthe low, solemn ticking of the clock.
At last the Scot spoke.
"He means mischief. Depend on it."
"I quite believe he does," Statham admitted.
"That is why we should act at once," Levi chimed in.
"And perhaps by a premature move spoil the whole of our chance ofvictory!" remarked the millionaire, very thoughtfully.
"Remember that Adam holds very strong cards in the game," the butlerurged, knocking the ash slowly from his cigar. Surely it was a queer,unusual scene, this conference of three!
"I have suspected something for some time past, Levi," was his master'sresponse. "And I took steps to combat my enemies; but, unfortunately, Iwas not sufficiently wary, and I failed."
"What, mon!" gasped the man from Glasgow; "ye don't say ye're at themercy of those devils?"
"I tell you, Macgregor, that my position is more insecure than even youbelieve it to be," was the response, in a low voice, almost of despair.
Levi and Duncan exchanged glances. The millionaire's words weresomewhat enigmatical, but the truth was apparent. Samuel Statham was infear of some revelation which could be made by that shabby stranger whomhe had seen idling at the Park railings.
"Tell me, Macgregor. Does Adam know you?"
"No."
"You've seen him, and you know him?"
"Perfectly weel. I kept ma eye on him when he didn't dream that anybodywas nigh him."
"And what you told me in the City you are prepared to stand by?"
The Scot put out his big hands, saying:
"Mr Statham, what I've told ye I stick to."
"Duncan," said the great man, clasping the hand offered him. "You weremy friend once--my best friend--and you will be so again."
"If ye'll let me be," answered the other warmly. Statham could read aman's innermost character at a glance. He was seldom, if ever,mistaken. He looked into Macgregor's eyes, and saw truth and friendshipthere.
As Levi watched the two men his lip curled slightly. He was a cynic,and did not approve of this outburst of sentimentality on the part ofhis master. Samuel Statham, the man of millions and the controller ofcolossal interests, should, he declared within himself, be above such anexhibition of his own heart.
"Is it not strange," remarked Statham, as though speaking to himself,"that you should actually have been engaged in my works without knowingthat it was the head of the firm who was indebted to you for his life?"
"Ay, the world's only a sma' space, after all," Duncan replied. "I wasapprenticed to the firm, but soon got sick of a humdrum life. So I wentout to South America to try ma fortune, an' we met. After the war Iwent to Caracas, and then back to Glasgie to the old firm, where I'vebeen ever since. I thought that when the new company took the placeover I'd be discharged as too old. Indeed, more than once Mr Rolfe hashinted at it."
"I don't think you'd need fear that, Duncan. Both you and I recollectscenes set in strong remembrance--scenes that are never to return. Ihad no idea it was you to whom the creditable work turned out at Glasgowwas due until Rolfe told me all about you," and as he uttered thosewords a twinge of conscience shot through his mind as he recollected howhe had ordered the man to be summarily discharged for daring to seek aninterview. And then how, when he had entered his presence, he hadhanded him something that was far better destroyed. They had indeeddestroyed it together.
He saw that Macgregor had no great love for Rolfe, but put it down tothe fact that his secretary, being practically in charge of the works,had become out of favour with the men over the question of labour. TheScot had said nothing derogatory regarding Charlie, but merely expressedsurprise that he had not been accorded an interview at once. Then hehad urged that he had something of importance and of interest to impart.
"Well, you see, Macgregor," replied the millionaire, halfapologetically; "the fact is I have to make it a rule to see nobody. Ofcourse, to old friends, like yourself, I am always accessible, anddelighted to have a chat, but if it were known that I received people, Ishould be besieged here all day long. I make it a rule not to allowanybody here in my house."
"Why?" asked the Scot, quite unconscious of the gravity of his inquiry.He was in entire ignorance of the strange stories concerning the housewherein he was at that moment. The papers never mentioned them for fearof an action for libel. As far as he had seen there was nothingpeculiar or extraordinary about the place. The hall and the librarywere very handsomely furnished, as befitted the home of one of England'swealthiest men. The fact that Levi had been called into conference evenwas not remarkable, for the reason had already been explained to himbriefly, in half-a-dozen words.
"But you have your ain circle of good friends here, I suppose?"suggested the Scot, as the great man had not replied to his question.
"No," replied Statham. "Nobody comes here--nobody enters my door."
"But why?"
Master and servant exchanged glances. It was a direct question to whichit was impossible to give a truthful reply without the revelation of asecret.
And so Samuel Statham lied to his best, humble yet most devoted friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
LONDON LOVERS.
Nearly three weeks had now passed since the extraordinary disappearanceof Dr Petrovitch and his daughter from the house in Cromwell Road.
The cleverness with which the removal of their household goods had beeneffected, and the cunning and ingenuity displayed regarding them, showedMax Barclay plainly that the disappearance had been carefully planned,and that those assisting had been well paid for keeping their secret.
And yet, after all, it was quite possible that the men who had removedthe furniture from the house were merely hired for the job, and had goneaway thinking they had acted quite legitimately. Harm
er's Stores oftenengage extra hands, and what would have been easier than for the foremanto have paid them, and driven the van with the false name upon it toanother part of London. That was, no doubt, what had really been done.
Max had devoted the greater part of his time to endeavouring toelucidate the mystery, but had failed ignominiously. The statement madeby Marion concerning what seemed to be some confession of Maud's greatlypuzzled him. His well-beloved was loyal to her friend, and would notbetray her. Times without number he had reverted to the question, butshe always evaded his questions.
Only a