expressed wonder at the refusal, and people called him afool. In Old Broad Street men were envious, and laughed in theirsleeves. Yet if they had known the real reason they would surely havestood aghast.
One day, however, his private secretary, young Rolfe, had come to himwith a strange and improbable tale. His enemy was alive and well, andwas, moreover, actually in England! He questioned the young man, andfound certain discrepancies in the statement. Therefore, shrewd andfar-seeing, he refused to believe it, and suspected blackmail to be theultimate intention. He did not, however, suspect Rolfe of anyinclination that way. He was both faithful and devoted.
Five years before, Rolfe's father, a man of considerable means who hadbeen interested in his financial undertakings, burnt his fingers badlyover a concession given by the Persian Government and became bankrupt.A year later he died, a ruined man, leaving a son Charles and a daughterMarion. The latter had been compelled, he understood, to earn herliving in a London shop, and the former, who had only recently come downfrom Oxford, he had engaged as his confidential secretary.
He had indeed done this because he had felt that Charlie's father hadmade the ruinous speculation upon his advice, and it therefore behovedhim to do some little for the dead man's children. Few men in the Cityof London in these modern days are possessors of consciences, and thosewho have are usually too busy with their own affairs to think of thechildren of ruined friends.
Old Sam Statham was a hard man, it must be admitted. He would drive abargain to the last fraction of percentage, and in repayment of loans hewas relentless sometimes. Yet the acts of private charity that he didwere many, and he never sought to advertise them.
In Charles Rolfe he had not been disappointed. Never once had hedisobeyed the orders he had given, and, what was more, never once had hesought to penetrate beyond the door at the head of the staircase whichshut off the ground floor from the one above.
The first day that Rolfe came to attend to his correspondence he hadtold him that he must never ascend those stairs, and that if he did hewould be discharged at a moment's notice.
This prohibition struck the young man as curious and lent additionalcolour to the whispers of mystery concerning the fine fashionable house.A thousand weird suggestions arose within his mind of what wasconcealed upstairs, yet he was powerless to investigate, and, after afew weeks, grew to regard his master's words as those of an eccentricman whose enormous wealth had rendered a trifle extraordinary at times.
Old Levi was janitor of that green baize door. Situated round thecorner, no one standing in the hall could see it. Therefore itsexistence was unsuspected. But it was an iron door covered with greenbaize, and always kept locked. Levi kept the key, and to all Rolfe'sinquisitiveness he was dumb.
"The master allows nobody upstairs," was always his reply. "I sleepdownstairs because I am not permitted to ascend."
What other servants might be there he knew not. Levi was the only otherperson he ever saw. The curtains at the upper windows always lookedfresh and smart, and often as he went up Park Lane at night and glancedup at them, he saw lights in them, showing that they must be inhabited.
At first all this puzzled him sorely. He had told Marion about it, andalso Maud Petrovitch, both girls being intensely interested in themystery of the house and the character of the unseen occupants of itsupper floors.
But as Charlie declared that old Statham was eccentric in everything,the mystery had gradually worn off and been forgotten.
The old man's face had sadly changed since early morning. Hiscountenance now was that of a man in sheer despair. He had looked upthe Continental Bradshaw and had scrawled half a dozen telegrams,addressed to his secretary, now on his way to Servia, and these had beentaken to the post-office by Levi.
But it was all in vain. The message to Belgrade could not possiblyreach Rolfe for another three days, and then, alas! it would be toolate.
Before then he would be finished with all earthly things, and the worldwould denounce him as a coward. Yet even that would be preferable tostanding and hearing his enemy's denunciation than facing exposure,ridicule, and ruin.
"Levi was right when he suggested flight," he was murmuring to himself."Yet where can I go? I'm too well-known. My portrait is constantly inthe papers, and, save Greece, there is no country in which I couldobtain sanctuary. Again, suppose I got safely to Greece, what about thefirm's credit? It would be gone. But if I die to-day, before this manreturns, they cannot accuse the dead, and the firm, being in a soundfinancial position, cannot be attacked. No, only by my own death can Isave the situation. I must sacrifice myself. There is no help for it!None! I must die!"
He gazed wildly around the big old-fashioned room as though his eyeswere searching for some means of escape.
But there was none. His past had that day risen against him, and he wasself-condemned.
His chin sank again upon his chest, and his deep-set eyes were fixedupon the soft, dark-green carpet. The marble clock chimed the hour offour, and recalled him to a sense of his surroundings.
He stretched himself, sighing deeply. He was wondering, when thatshabby watcher, who held his life in his dirty talons, would return.
Thoughts of the past, tragic and bitter, arose within him, and amuttered imprecation escaped his thin, white lips. He was faced with aproblem that even the expenditure of his millions could not solve. Hecould purchase anything on earth, but he could not buy a few more yearsof his own life.
He envied the man who was poor and struggling, the man with a cheerfulwife and loving children, the man who worked and earned and had nofar-reaching interests. The wage-earner was to him the ideal life of aman, for he obtained an income without the enormous responsibilityconsequent upon being a "principal." His vast wealth was but amillstone about his neck.
That little leather book, with its brass lock, wherein was recorded hisfinancial position in a nutshell, was lying upon the table. When he hadconsulted it he had been appalled. He was worth far more than he hadever imagined. And yet, by an irony of fate, the accumulation of thatwealth was now to cost him his life!
The long bar of sunlight had been moving slowly across the carpet, allthe afternoon. Old Sam Statham has risen and crossed again to hiswriting-table, searching among some papers in a drawer, and finding asilver cigarette case, much tarnished by long neglect. This he opened,and within was displayed one tiny object. It was not a cigarette, but atiny glass tube with a glass stopper, containing a number of very smallwhite pilules.
He was gazing thoughtfully upon these, without removing the tube fromits hiding-place, when, of a sudden, the door opened, and Levi, his paleface flushed with excitement and half breathless, entered, exclaiming ina low whisper:
"Rolfe is here! Shall I show him in?"
"Rolfe!" gasped the millionaire in a voice of amazement. "Are youserious, Levi?"
"Serious? Of course. He has just called and asked if you can see him."
"Show him in instantly," was Statham's answer, as hope became at thatinstant renewed. "We may find a way out of this difficulty yet--withhis aid."
"We may," echoed Levi, closing the door for a moment behind him, so thatthe young man might not overhear his words. "We may; but recollect thathe is a man in love."
"Well?"
"And he loves that girl Maud Petrovitch. Don't you understand--eh?"asked Levi, with an evil flash in his eyes.
"Ah! I see," replied his master, biting his under lip. "I follow you,Levi. It is good that you warned me. Leave the girl to me. Show himin."
"You know what I told you a few days ago--of his friendship withPetrovitch," the old servant went on. "Recollect that what I said wasthe truth, and act upon the confidential information I gave you. Inthis matter you've a difficult task before you, but don't bechicken-hearted and generous, as you are so very often. You're in atight corner, and you must get out of it somehow, by hook or by crook."
"Trust me to look after myself," responded the millionaire, with asudde
n smile upon his pale, haggard face, for he saw that with hissecretary in London he might after all escape, and he had already closedthe tarnished cigarette case that contained those pilules by which hehad been contemplating ending his stormy existence. "Tell him to comein."
"But I beg of you to be firm. You're not a fool," urged Levi, bendingearnestly towards him. "What is a woman's honour as compared with yourfuture? You must sacrifice her--or yourself. There are many women inthe world, recollect--but there is only one Samuel Statham!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
SAMUEL STATHAM MAKES CONFESSION.
When Rolfe entered old Sam's presence he saw that something was amiss.
Was it possible that his employer knew his secret--the secret of hisvisit to Cromwell Road on the previous night? Perhaps he did. Thesuggestion crossed
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