CHAPTER XXI.
"QUARRELSOME HARRY."
The _Lucania_ had been in port forty-eight hours, and Mrs. Myers and herparty had been snugly quartered in one of London's most charming ruralnooks, at Hampton Court, with Robert Brierly close at hand, beforeFerrars ventured to visit the city.
Mr. Myers had discreetly remained in London, going from thence to meethis friends at Hampton Court, but Ferrars, for reasons which he did notexplain, went to the city, as soon as he had assured himself of thecomfort and safety of his party, this assurance including the provisionof a watchful aid, who kept guard whenever Robert Brierly, himself nowwell convinced of the need of caution, ventured abroad.
Leaving Mr. Myers thus to enjoy an evening with his wife and friends,Ferrars hastened to "the city," where every stone seemed familiar, andmany faces were those of friends or foes, well known and wellremembered. To escape recognition his own countenance had been simplybut sufficiently hidden behind a disguise of snowy hair and rubicundvisage, both assumed as soon as he had parted from the group at HamptonCourt, for Ferrars realised that the battle was now on, and he had noidea of giving the foe the chance possibility of an encounter. He waswell known at Scotland Yard, as well as to the chief of the departmentof police, and it was to one of these officials that he made his way,for he had two reasons of his own for hastening on, in advance of theparty.
Not long before leaving the "States," he had received a dainty notelet.It could not have been called a letter. It came through the hands ofDoctor Barnes, and it was signed, "Lotilia K. Jamieson."
It is late afternoon when Ferrars reaches Oxford Street, after hisinterview with several official personages, during which he has bestowedupon each a number of typewritten cards, bearing what seems to be abrief descriptive list, and as many photographs, faithful and enlargedcopies of the "snap shot" furnished him by the hand of Samuel Doran.
He alights from an omnibus at the end of Regent Street, and stands, fora moment, looking down Oxford Street. He is not in haste, for he letscabs and omnibuses rattle by him, or stand, waiting for fares, and walksslowly on and on. A mile and a quarter of shops, that is Oxford Street,but Ferrars foots it sturdily. Past the Circus, beyond the region ofSoho, and he slackens his pace and consults a tiny memorandum book. Whoever saw Frank Ferrars produce a letter or card, for reference, in thestreets of a crowded city? Then he smiles and paces on.
Bloomsbury. He is walking slowly now, and under his low-drawn hat hiseyes are very alert.
And now he is in that portion of Bloomsbury where, earlier, very earlyin the century, the wealthy, and those of high degree resided. It iscomfortable and middle class now, and our pedestrian passes a certainpleasant semi-detached house--not large, but eminently respectable--witha stealthy, lingering glance, pausing, before he has walked quite beyondit, as if to note some object of fleeting interest. Two or three times,within the hour, he passes that house, now on this side, now on that;once on the top of an omnibus, once in a cab, and driving very slowly,and as close as possible.
It is fairly dusk when he slowly ascends the well scrubbed steps, withthe reluctant air of a man by no means sure of himself. He carries asmall package beneath his arm, and a card between the fingers of hisleft hand, to which he shifts the package as he rings the bell.
"I beg your pardon, young Miss." It is a sour-faced damsel of uncertainage who melts perceptibly under this adjective. "Will you tell me ifMrs.--Mrs.----" He peers near-sightedly at the card he holds, and slowlypronounces a name.
"No, sir; this is not the place."
"But, doesn't the lady stop here, Miss? It's some'res in this hereblock, and somehow they've forgot the number, you see. Is there a ladyguest maybe, or a boarder belike?"
But the maid, quite melted now, shakes her head, and tells him thatbeside her mistress, whom she names, and her mistress' niece, who stopswith them, "off and on," there are no ladies in the house.
The detective blunders on down the street, and, when the lamps are lithe passes the house again. The lamps are lighted in the little diningroom now, and through a window which projects upon the corner, he cansee a table set for two. And now at last he is rewarded, for a maidenters and places something upon the table; a lady follows, glances atthe table, walks to the window, and turns, with a quick, imperiousgesture, toward the maid; a little lady, with a fair face, pale, fleecyhair and wearing a flowing silken gown of some soft violet shade. Shesweeps past the maid and seats herself at the head of the table, whilethe young person--it is the same who attended so lately at thedoor--comes forward to close the curtain. Slowly it is drawn together,shutting in the lights, the table and the violet-clad figure, but notuntil the watcher outside has caught a glimpse of a man, tall and, yes,handsome, in a dark fierce fashion, who is entering at the door on theother side of the room.
The watcher passes on. He has seen, once more, the woman who has,according to his own confession, aroused in him "a profound interest."And he has also seen, whom and what? A brother? A lover? A rival,perhaps? Ferrars hails a passing cab now, and is driven swiftly towardshis room in the Strand, and as he rolls along, this comment, which maymean much or little, passes his lips.
"So my little lady has doffed her mourning. I wonder what that maymean?"
"I'm very sorry, Ferrars, but I fear there's a great disappointment instore for you."
"A disappointment! How? And in what respect, Mr. Myers?"
Ferrars was seated opposite Mr. Myers in the office of Wendell Haynes,solicitor, in Middle Temple Lane, where he had hastened on the morningafter his little adventure in Bloomsbury, and so prompt and eager hadhe been that he had encountered the American lawyer at the verythreshold, Mr. Myers having just arrived, with equal haste andpromptness, from Hampton Court.
Solicitor Haynes and the English detective were not unknown to eachother, and when they had exchanged greetings, the solicitor left theothers together in his inner office. He was, by this time, fullyacquainted with all the facts, so far as they were known to Mr. Myers,and he left them with a promise to rejoin them soon, when they shouldhave compared notes and gone over the ground already known to the busysolicitor.
There was a look of suppressed eagerness upon the face of Ferrars, as heseated himself opposite the shrewd American lawyer. His face, hismanner, his very silence and alertness as he held himself erect upon hischair, a picture of calm force, long suppressed, but now out of leashand ready for anything--anything except inaction; and that, his veryattitude seemed to say was past.
Mr. Myers had waited a moment, after they were left alone together, forFerrars to speak the first word, but the latter only sat still andwaited, and the lawyer, with characteristic directness, spoke straightto the point. He had what he felt to be bad news to impart, and he didnot delay or play with words in the doing it.
But if he had expected disappointment or any change to cross thatkeenly questioning face, he looked in vain. Ferrars only sat leaningslightly toward him, waited a moment, and repeated his last words.
"In what manner? How disappointed?" And then, as the lawyer stillhesitated, he went on. "You find the case as it should be, eh?"
"The case! Oh, yes!"
"Are there any flaws?"
"No," broke in the lawyer.
"Any unexpected delays?"
"No."
"Any new claimants?"
"No, Ferrars. The Hugo Paisley will case is one of the simplest andclearest of its kind. The last incumbent surely must have had awonderfully clear idea of how to do the thing he meant to do. Once theclaim is proven, and he makes that work easy, there need be no delays,no chancery, no holding back for big fees. The agents in the case arepaid according to their expedition, and have every incentive to haste.With the proofs in hand the heir could step at once into his fortune, amatter of L200,000."
"An American millionaire, eh?" Ferrars smiled. "That, then, is quite asit should be, especially as the young lady is here. Well, then, youadvertised, according to your report?"
"Yes, we advertised. A v
ery craftily worded document calculated toarouse the dilatory claimants to prompt action."
"And, did it not?"
"It did, yes."
"Then, in heaven's name why must I be disappointed in any way?"
"Because I fear the claimant--we have seen but one--is not the personyou hoped to find."
Ferrars actually smiled. "Describe the person," he said.
Without speaking, the lawyer held out to him across the table a visitingcard, a lady's card, correct according to the London mode of the hour,and bearing a name which Ferrars read aloud with no sign of emotion inhis face.
"Mrs. Gaston Latham." He looked up with the card still between hisfingers. "Is she the solitary heir?"
"No; there are two children; girls of twelve and nine."
"And her proofs?"
"Seem to be perfect, making her the next in line of successionafter----"
"After the Brierlys, of course."
Mr. Myers nodded and the detective looked down again at the address uponthe card.
"Lives in the city, I see! Are the children with her here?"
"Only the younger, I am told. The elder has 'an infirmity,' and is atpresent in an institution. It seems a great cross to the mother; in facther anxiety and distress, because of this child, have made her almostindifferent about this business of the fortune. In short"--and here thelawyer glanced askance at his _vis-a-vis_--"I'm afraid she is notthe--the sort of claimant you have expected to see. And there seems tobe no one of the other sex in the family."
"Well, well!" Ferrars threw himself back in the big office chair,assuming an easy and almost careless attitude.
"Tell me all about her, Myers. Is she old, or young? Handsome or not?"
The face of the lawyer was overspread with a cynical smile. He hadexpected to see disappointment, consternation, perhaps, in the face ofthe detective, when he heard that the English claimant to the Paisleyfortune was a woman lorn and lone. His heart was in the work they wereengaged upon. Robert Brierly's interests were his own; but, still, thiscool, emotionless detective, whom he liked well, had more than oncepiqued and puzzled him. He believed that Ferrars was quite prepared tomeet with, and hear of, quite another sort of claimant, and he was nowlooking to see him at last stirred out of his provoking calm.
"Mrs. Gaston Latham is not a claimant to whom one could object, upon theground of unfitness. She would make a very handsome and graciousdispenser of the Paisley thousands."
"Too bad that she will never get them!" And Ferrars smiled.
"She is a woman of medium height, and rather--well--plump, and while herhair is snowy white, she does not look a day over forty. She has thefine, fresh English colour, blue eyes, that require the aid of strongeyeglasses, and a voice that is very high-pitched for an Englishwoman,and that sounds, I am sorry to say--for she's really a very intelligentand winning little lady--somewhat affected at times. She dresses in softgrays and pale lavenders, as you may be interested to know." And herethe lawyer smiled broadly.
"That," commented Ferrars, with no cessation of his own gravelyindifferent manner, "for a 'plump' woman, is a great mistake. A plumpperson should never assume light colours." And then the eyes of the twomen met, and over each face there slowly crept a smile that grew into alaugh.
"Upon my soul, Ferrars," exclaimed the elder, "I believe you have heardof this Mrs. Latham!"
"Not to make a mystery of it, Mr. Myers, I'll explain that I have heardof Mrs. Latham. But, I give you my word, I did not look to find her theclaimant. You have heard us, some, or all, speak of Mrs. Jamieson!"
The lawyer nodded and a smile of meaning crossed his face.
"Well, I have lately learned that she might be found at a certain numberin Bloomsbury, and addressed, in case of her temporary absence, in careof Mrs. Gaston Latham, an old family friend."
"I see!" The lawyer was silent a moment. Then he looked the detectivefrankly in the face. "To be perfectly candid with you, Ferrars," hesaid, "I have thought that you looked to see a different sort ofclaimant, more than one perhaps, and that this lady could not, by anypossibility, be the expected one. I fancied this would trouble, perhapshinder, if not quite balk you."
"Honestly, Myers, I have wondered not a little what sort of claimant Ishould meet, and I am neither surprised nor disappointed. I see what isin your mind; you looked to see the conclusion of the game here andsoon, eh?"
"I admit it."
"And I hoped it. I do hope it. We must strike our final blow now ifever. We can depend upon Mr. Haynes."
"Entirely."
"And you have fully enlightened him?"
"To the extent of my own knowledge?"
"Then let's call him in, and I will put my cards upon the table. Weshall need his help, but I'll explain that later."
When the English solicitor had joined them, Ferrars briefly reviewed theevents surrounding and connected with the death of Charles Brierly, andthe attempt upon Robert's life; and when he was sure that theyunderstood each other, thus far, and that the English lawyer was deeplyinterested in the case and had committed himself to it, he summed up thesituation thus.
"You will see, of course, that I might make a bold stroke and arrest mysuspects at once; or, at least, as soon as we could lay our hands uponthem, but the case is a complicated one, and having it in my power tomake our quarry commit themselves altogether, I do not intend to leavethem a loophole of escape. I have not been entirely open with you; youmust take my word for some things. I have put the Scotland Yard men onthe lookout for our man; I do not know his name, but I think they willhave no trouble in finding him, by acting upon my hints. There is muchwhich even I do not understand, in his connection with the case. I donot believe him to be the master spirit, and I want to let him have hisfling over here."
"Do you mean," broke in the solicitor, "that you do not intend to arresthim, as soon as found?"
"He must be kept under close espionage, when traced, but so long as hedoes not leave London, he must be left quite free to come and go atwill. There is much that is still hazy, concerning his appearance inGlenville, and I look to him to lead me to another--to the other, infact."
"And," urged the solicitor, "do you feel safe in venturing this? May henot shun those places?"
"Listen! The man's name I do not know, but I know what he is. There areplotting villains in this world, who might scheme forever and still beoften penniless. This man is a gambler. In Chicago he pawned the watchstolen from Charles Brierly's room, knowing that there was risk in sodoing, but desperate for the money it would bring. He won soon after,and aware of danger ahead, for he had good reason to think himselffollowed over there, he at once redeemed his pledge. He does not dreamthat we are here, and the finances at headquarters, I have reason tothink, are running low. To play he must have money, and when he has losthe will either pledge or sell the remainder of the jewels stolen fromthe writing desk. They were of considerable value, as I havediscovered."
"Ah!" Mr. Myers looked up quickly.
"Oh, that's no secret. Hilda Grant saw the jewels, and knew theirvalue."
"May I ask why you presume that all the stolen jewels are in this man'spossession?" asked the solicitor.
"Because they were stolen, in the first place, not for plunder's sake,but to mislead; and the party who took them lost no time, I am sure, inpassing them on, and out of the town. It is hardly likely they wouldhave divided them."
"Then you look upon this man as in truth little more than a cat's paw?"
"In some respects, yes. He does not take this view, however, and now Iwant to hear all about your interview with this lady, Mrs. GastonLatham."
"According to your instructions," said Mr. Myers, "I remained in thebackground. Mr. Haynes was the spokesman."
Ferrars turned toward the solicitor, who began at once.
"There is really very little to tell. Of course I quite understand thatthe claimant was to be held off, and the next interview to take place inyour presence."
Ferrars shook his head. "I f
ear we must change our plans somewhat. Thefact is," here he glanced up and met the eye of Mr. Haynes, a queersmile lighting his own, "I have found just now, that I knew a lady whoseems to be a friend of this Mrs. Gaston Latham, and an inmate of herhouse in Bloomsbury. Now it might be a little awkward for me to appearbefore my--the lady in question, as the opponent of her friend. In fact,I must not appear in the matter--not yet, at any rate. And, upon myword, Mr. Myers, since our friend has taken up the _role_ ofSpokesman-in-chief, you and I will both stand aside, just at first. Maywe count upon you?"
"I shall need some coaching, of course," suggested the solicitor.
"Of course; and that you shall have at once. But first, when is she tocall again?"
"When I give the word."
"Give it at once, then; to-morrow at 2 p.m. Tell her to come alone. Youcan arrange for us to hear the interview, I dare say?"
The solicitor swung about in his big chair. "You see those two doors?"he asked, quite needlessly pointing at the two doors, at oppositecorners of the inner wall, "They open upon my private chamber ofhorrors. Formerly there was a partition, and two smaller rooms Thepartition has been removed. In the morning I will have my man move thattall bookcase across the door at the right. The door, behind it, canthen stand open, and you can hear very well. I will have my desk and thechairs moved nearer that corner. Will that do?"
"Excellently; only I must see the lady in some way."
"Then, if you will come in some slight disguise, you can sit at myclerk's desk, over by that window, with your back to the light. I willdismiss you, and you can go out to join Mr. Myers, through the left-handdoor."
They inspected the inner room, and Ferrars, gauging the distance withhis quick eye, made a suggestion or two regarding the placing of thedesks, and the visitor's chair, and then they sat down to discuss thepart the solicitor must take in the coming interview.
That evening when Ferrars strolled into his room after an early dinner,he found a note from a certain police inspector, in whose charge he hadleft the hunt, or rather, the watch for the suspected stranger. The notecontained a summons, brief and peremptory, and he hastened to presenthimself before Inspector Hirsch.
"We have found your man," were the inspector's first words, when thedetective was left alone with him. "And it was an easy trick, too, forall your fears to the contrary. I tell you, Ferrars, when a sport wholives only to gamble and bet on horses, comes back to London after anylong absence, he's sure to go to one of a dozen flush places I can name,as soon as he can get there. And, if he's heeled he'll go to them all.Just give him time. I didn't neglect the houses of mine uncle, but Ialso sent a squad around to these other places."
"And you found him?"
"We found him. And that's not all. We have found a name for him."
"Good! What is it?"
"He goes by the name of 'Quarrelsome Harry' among his kind. Harry Leveyis the way he writes it."
Ferrars pondered a moment "M--m--I'm not surprised," he said finally. "Iwas sure he was that kind. What's his specialty besides beingquarrelsome?"
"Cards, and crooked bookmaking, I fancy. But Smithson, who seems to haveknown him of old, says he's up to most sorts of shady business, when hisluck's down."
And the inspector went on describing the search for "Quarrelsome Harry"who had been "spotted" at a time when he was in a fair way to prove hisright to his sobriquet. For he had been losing money all the previousnight, and had sought his room in a dingy house in Soho, in a very blackmood.
Here, so the shadow had reported, "Quarrelsome Harry" had remaineduntil late noonday, emerging then to lunch at a coffee-house, and totake his way, for what purpose the watcher could only guess, toHoundsditch, where he seemed quite at home among the Jews in severalcafes and "club rooms," where he tarried for a greater or shorter time,and seemed to be looking for some one--some one whom he did not find, itwould seem, for he left the neighbourhood as he came, alone and with alowering face.
"Looking for a loan, I'll wager," declared Ferrars. "By to-morrow he'llbe visiting my uncle. I'll have to leave him to your men to-night, Isuppose, Hirsch, but to-morrow I will go on guard myself."
He made a note of the Soho street and number, where Harry Levey hadlodged, and then he took out his cigar case and the two men sat downtogether to talk about London, and compare notes. For they were oldacquaintances, and could find much to say, one to another.
An hour later, when Ferrars arose to go, the inspector looked at hiswatch.
"By Jove! Frank, you don't mind my calling you that, eh? It seems likeold times, half a dozen years ago. Say, it's almost the hour for theSwiss to report. He's on duty now looking after your man; wait till hecomes in. Hobson must already have gone to relieve him, if he can findhim. Harry was airing himself along the embankment when last heardfrom."
It was nearing ten o'clock, but Ferrars resumed his seat and his cigarvery willingly, and Inspector Hirsch set out a very pretty decanter ofsomething which he described, while pouring it into the glasses, as bothlight and pleasant.
At half-past ten "the Swiss," as rank an Englishman as ever ignored hish's, came in beaming.
He had left "'Arry," as he familiarly called the man he had been set toguard, in a front seat in the gallery of the Vaudeville theatre in theStrand, and Hobson was sitting just three seats away, and nearest the"halley."
"E's got a sort of green lookin' young duffer with 'im," went on theSwiss, "and they seem to be goin' to 'ave a night of it."
Ferrars got up quickly. "Come out with me, inspector," he said. "I maywant you to call off your man. And, say, let me have one of your badges.It may come handy."
The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Page 21
