by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER FOUR
Gideon Morse still had the little steel-blue automatic pistol in hishand. He was actually smiling and humming a little tune when he turnedand saw Juanita and myself coming out of the alcove.
In a flash his hand dropped the pistol into the pocket of his dinnerjacket and his face changed.
"Santa Maria!" he said in Spanish, and then, "Juanita, Sir ThomasKirby!"
"You remember you gave me an appointment to-night, Mr. Morse," Istammered.
"Of course, of course, then--"
He said no more, for with a little gasp Juanita sank into a heap uponthe floor. We had loosened hands directly the millionaire turned towardsus and I was too late to catch her.
Morse was at her side in an instant.
"The bell," he said curtly, and I ran to the side of the room andpressed the button hard and long.
Wow! but these money emperors of the world are well served! In a second,so it seemed, the room was full of people. The young secretary, a coupleof maids, a dark foreign-looking man in a morning coat and a black tiewhom I took to be the valet, and finally a gigantic fellow in tweedswith a battered face as big as a ham and arms which reached almost tohis knees.
The maids were at the girl's side in a moment, applying restoratives.Morse rose, just as another door opened and in sailed a stout elderlylady in a black evening dress with a mantilla of black lace over herabundant and ivory white hair. Morse said something to her in Spanishand I wished I had been Arthur Winstanley to understand it. Then I feltmy arm taken and Morse drew me away.
"It is nothing serious," he said, "just a little shock," and as he saidit he made a slight gesture with his head.
It was enough. The secretary, the valet, and the huge, vulgar-lookingman in tweeds faded away in an instant, though not before I had seen thelatter spot the broken mirror, and a ferocious glint come into his eyes.Nor did he look surprised.
Juanita began to come to herself and she was tenderly carried away bythe women. Morse accompanied them and spoke in a rapid whisper to thedistinguished old lady, who, I knew, must be the Senora Balmaceda.
The two of us were left alone, and for my part I sank down in anadjacent chair quite exhausted in mind, if not in body, by thehappenings of the last ten minutes. Up to the present--I will saynothing of the future--I had never lived so fast or so much in such ashort space of time; and you've got to get accustomed to that sort ofthing really to enjoy it!
"I'm afraid your visit has been somewhat exciting," said my host, in hismusical, level voice. His eyes were as dark and inscrutable as ever, butnevertheless, I saw that the man was badly moved. He took a slim, goldcigarette case from his waistcoat pocket and his hand trembled.Moreover, under the tan of his skin he was as white as a ghost--therewas a curious gray effect.
I laughed.
"I confess to having been a little startled. Your secretary brought mein here and I was talking to Miss Morse in the conservatory when--" Ihesitated for a moment.
He saved me the trouble of going on.
"I guess," he said, "you and I had better have a little drink now," andhe went to the wall.
I don't pretend to know how the service was managed--I suppose there wasa sergeant-major somewhere in the background who drilled the host ofpersonal and hotel attendances who ministered to the wants of GideonMorse. At any rate, this time no one entered but one of the hotelfootmen, and he brought the usual tray of cut-glass bottles, etc.
Morse mixed us both a brandy and soda and I noticed two things. First,his hand was steady again; secondly, the brandy was not decanted butcame out of a bottle, on which was the fleur-de-lys of ancient, royalFrance, blown into the glass.
There was a twinkle in his eye when he saw I had spotted that.
"Yes," he said, "there are only three dozen bottles left, even in theRitz. They were found in a bricked-up cellar of the Tuileries," and hetossed off his glass with relish.
So did I--Cleopatra's pearls were not so expensive.
"Now look here, Sir Thomas," Morse said, sitting down by me and drawingup his chair, "you've seen something to-night of a very unfortunatenature. You've seen it quite by accident. If news of it got about, if itwere even whispered through a certain section of London, then the verygravest harm might result, not only to me but to many other personsalso."
"My dear sir, I have seen nothing. I have heard nothing. You may placeimplicit reliance upon that," and I held out my hand to him, which hetook in a firm grip.
"Thank you, Sir Thomas," he replied simply. "It was a question," hehesitated for the fraction of a second, and I knew he was lying, "it wasa question of impudent blackmail. I had expected something of the sortand was prepared. You saw how the cowardly hound ran away."
"Quite so, Mr. Morse. Of course a man in your position must be subjectto these things occasionally."
"Ah, you see that," he said briskly, and I knew he was relieved. "Youare a man of the world, and you see that. Well, I am thankful for yourpromise of silence. I am the more annoyed, though, that Juanita shouldhave been present at a scene which, though really burlesque, must haveseemed to her one of violence."
I had my own opinion about the burlesque nature of the incident, but Imade haste to reassure him.
"Of course," I said, "it must have been distressing for any lady, but itwas the suddenness that upset her, and I'm sure Miss Morse's nerves arefar too good for it to have any permanent effect."
"Yes," he answered, and in his voice there was a caress, "I can explainit all to Juanita, and the memory of this evening will soon go fromher."
Again I had my own private opinion, which I forbore to state.Personally, I had very little doubt but that Juanita would remember thisevening as long as the darling lived! It would not be my fault if shedidn't! But I saw that this was no moment to tell him that I loved her.Perhaps, if we had been granted five minutes more in the conservatoryand I had said all I meant, and heard from her all I hoped, I shouldhave spoken then. As it was I could not, though in my own mind I wascertain she cared for me.
We were silent for a few moments, and then Morse seemed to recallhimself from private thought.
"I had nearly forgotten!" he said. "You specially wanted to see meto-night, Sir Thomas, and you've very kindly waited in order to do so."
Then I remembered the errand upon which I had come, and pulled myselftogether mentally. I liked Morse. He was of tremendous importance to me,and yet at the same time it behooved me to be wary. Already I wascertain that he was playing a game with me in the matter of Mark AntonyMidwinter, whose name I kept rigidly to myself. I must play my cardscarefully.
Please understand me, I don't for a moment mean that I felt he was myenemy, or inimical to me in any way. Far from it. I knew that he likedme and wouldn't do me a bad turn if he could help it. At the same time Iwas perfectly sure that if necessary he would use me like a pawn in amysterious game that I couldn't fathom, and I didn't mean to be usedlike a pawn if I could help it. My hope and ambition was to serve him,but I wanted a little reserve of power also, for reasons I need notindicate.
"Yes," I said, "I telephoned you."
"And you mentioned a certain word which rather puzzled me."
"I did. 'Towers' was the word."
"I believe we are going to meet at The Towers at Cerne in Norfolk," saidMr. Morse. "Sir Walter Stileman told me that you were to be of theshooting party in September."
At that I laughed frankly, really he was a little underestimating me. Hegrinned and understood in a second.
"Tell me, Sir Thomas, exactly what you _do_ mean," he said.
"Well, you know I am a newspaper proprietor and editor."
"Of the best written and most alive journal in London!"
I bowed, and produced from an inside pocket Master Bill Rolston'sastonishing piece of copy.
"An unknown journalist who was introduced to me to-day," I said,"brought a piece of news which would be of absorbing interest to thecountry if it were published and if it were true. Perhaps you would liketo r
ead this."
I handed him the typewritten copy and prepared to watch his face as heread it, but he was too clever for that. He took it and perused it,walking up and down the room, and I began to realize some of thequalities which had made this man one of the powers of the world.
More especially so when he came and sat down again, his face wreathedin smiles, though I could have sworn fury lurked in the depths of hisblack eyes.
"Well, now," he said, "this is interesting, very interesting indeed. Iam going to be quite frank with you, Sir Thomas. There's an amount oftruth in this manuscript that would cause me colossal worry if it werepublished at present. Another thing it would do would be to quite upseta financial operation of considerable magnitude. Personally, I shouldlose at the very least a couple of million sterling, though thatwouldn't make any appreciable difference to my fortune, but a lot ofother people would be ruined and for no possible benefit to any one inthe world except yourself and the _Evening Special_."
"Thank you," I said, "that's just why I came. Of course nothing shall bepublished, though I'm quite in the dark as to the nature of the wholething."
"I call that generous, generous beyond belief, Sir Thomas, for I knowthat it is the life of a newspaper to get hold of exclusive news. Iwould offer you a large sum not to publish this story did I not knowthat you would indignantly refuse it. I am a student of men, my youngfriend, if I may be allowed to call you so, and even if you were a poorman instead of being a rich one as ordinary wealth goes, I should nevermake such a proposition."
I glowed inwardly as he said it. It was a downright compliment, comingfrom him under the circumstances, at which any one would have beenwarmed to the heart. For here was a great man, a Napoleon of his day,one who, if he chose, could upset dynasties and plunge nations intowar. Yet, as I knew quite well, Gideon Mendoza Morse wasn't a member ofthe great financial groups who control and sway politics. In a sense hewas that rare thing, a pastoral millionaire. He owned vast tracts ofcountry populated by lowing steers for the food of the world. In theremote mountains of Brazil brown Indians toiled to wrest precious metalsand jewels from the earth for his advantage. But from the feverishplotting of international finance I knew him to stand aloof.
"I very much appreciate your remarks," was what I told him, "and you mayrest assured that nothing shall transpire."
"Thanks. But all the generosity mustn't be on your side. You shall haveyour scoop, Sir Thomas, if you will wait a little while."
"I am entirely at your service."
"Very well then," he said, and his manner grew extraordinarily cordial,"let's put a period to it! I hope that, from to-day, I and my daughterare going to see a great deal of you--a great deal more of you thanhitherto. You know how we are"--he gave a little annoyed laugh--"runafter in London; and what a success Juanita has had over here. What Ihope to do is to form a little inner circle of friends, and you must beone of them--if you will?"
How my luck held! I thought. Here, offered freely and with open hands,was the only thing I wanted. I am glad to think that I found a moment inwhich to be sorry for Arthur and dear old Pat Moore.
"It's awfully good of you," I stammered.
He made a little impatient gesture with his hand.
"Please don't talk nonsense," he said. "And now about the towers onRichmond Hill. I have told you that I cannot explain fully untilSeptember. I will tell you, though, that your clever littlejournalist--what, by the way, did you say his name was?"
"Rolston."
"Of course--has ferreted out much that I wished to conceal, but he isn'tentirely upon the right track. I _am_, Kirby, at the bottom of the wholething, and I have spent goodness knows how much to keep that quiet."
He lit another cigarette, leant back in his chair and laughed like aboy.
"I've bribed, and bribed, and bribed, I've managed to put pressure,actually to put pressure upon the British Government. I've employed anuntold number of agents, in short I've exercised the whole of myintellect, and the pressure of almost unlimited capital to keep my nameout of it. And now, you tell me, some little journalist has found outone thing at least that I was determined to conceal until Septembernext! The plans of men and mice gang oft agley, Kirby! This little manof yours must be a sort of genius. I hope there are no more people likehim prowling about Richmond Hill."
I was quite certain that there was not another Bill Rolston anywhere,and I amused Morse immensely by detailing the circumstances of thelittle, red-haired man's arrival in Fleet Street. I never realized tillnow how human and genial the great man could be, for he even expandedsufficiently to offer to toss me a thousand pounds to nothing for theservices of Julia Dewsbury!
I saw my way with Juanita becoming smoother and smoother every moment.
It was growing late, nearly one o'clock, when Morse insisted on havingsome bisque soup brought in.
"I think we both want something really sustaining," he said. "Do youbegin and I'll just run up and see my sister-in-law, Senora Balmaceda,and find out if Juanita is all right."
He left the room, and, happy that all had gone so well, I sipped theincomparable white essence, and gave myself up to dreams of the future.
I was to see her often. In September, at Sir Walter Stileman's, Morsewas to take me into his fullest confidence. That could only mean onething. Within a little less than three months he would give his consentto my marriage with his daughter. Another opportunity like this ofto-night, and Juanita and I would be betrothed. It would be delightfulto keep our secret until the shooting began. I would follow her throughthe events of the season, watch her mood, hear her extolled on everyside, knowing all the time she was mine. A vision came to me of Cowesweek, the gardens of the R. Y. Squadron, Juanita on board of my ownyacht "Moonlight."
I think I must have fallen asleep when I started into consciousness tofind myself staring into the great broken mirror over the mantelpieceand to find that Mr. Morse had returned and was smiling down upon me.
"She's all right, thank heavens," he said, "and has been asleep for along time. And now, as you seem sleepy too, I'll bid you good-night,with a thousand thanks for your consideration."
It was nearly two o'clock I noticed when I stepped out into the cool airof Piccadilly and walked the few yards to my flat. I must have beenasleep for quite a long time, and dear old Morse had forborne to wakenme.
I peculiarly remember my sense of well-being and happiness during thatshort walk. I was in a glow of satisfaction. Everything had turned outeven better than I had expected. What did the scoop for the paper matterafter all? Nothing, in comparison with the more or less intimaterelations in which I now stood with Gideon Morse. I was to see Juanitaconstantly. She was almost mine already, and fortune had beenmarvelously on my side. Of course there would be obstacles, there was nodoubt of that. I was no real match for her. But the obstacles in thefuture were as nothing to those that had been already surmounted. Ibegan to smile with conceit at the diplomatic way in which I had dealtwith the great financier; not for a single moment, as I put my key intothe latch, did I dream that I had been played with the utmost skill,tied myself irrevocably to silence, and that horrible trouble and grimperil even now walked unseen by my side.
When I got into the smoking-room I found things just as usual. I hadhardly lit a last cigarette when the door opened and Preston entered.
"Good heavens!" I said, "I never told you to wait up for me, Preston.There was not the slightest need. You ought to have been in bed hoursago."
"So I was, Sir Thomas," he said looking at me in a surprised sort ofway, and I noticed for the first time that he was wearing a gray flanneldressing-gown and slippers.
"What do you mean?"
"Until the telephone message came, Sir Thomas."
"What telephone message?"
"Why, yours, Sir Thomas."
"I never telephoned. When do you mean?"
"Not very long ago, Sir Thomas," he said, "I didn't take particularnotice of the time, somewhere between one o'clock and now."
&nb
sp; I was on the alert at once, though I could not have particularly saidwhy.
"Are you quite sure that it was I who 'phoned?"
"But, yes," he answered, "it was your voice, Sir Thomas. You said youwere speaking from the office."
"From the _Evening Special_? I've not been there since late afternoon.And when have I ever been there so late? There's never more than oneperson there all night long until six in the morning. It's not a morningpaper as you know."
Preston seemed more than ever bewildered as I flung this at him.
"All I can say is, Sir Thomas," he said, "that I heard your voicedistinctly and you said you were at the office."
"What did I say exactly?"
"About the young gentleman, Sir Thomas, the young gentleman who has cometo stay for a time. Your instructions were that he should be wakened andtold to come to Fleet Street without the least delay. You also said ataxicab would be waiting for him, by the time he was dressed, to drivehim down."
"And he went?"
"Certainly, Sir Thomas, he was in his clothes quicker than I ever see agentleman dress before, had a glass of milk and a biscuit, and the cabwas just coming as I went down with him and opened the front door."
I rushed out of the room, down the corridor and into that which had beenplaced at Rolston's disposal. It was as Preston said, the lad was gone.The bed was tumbled as he had left it, but a portmanteau full ofclothes, some hair brushes and a tooth brush on the wash-stand remained.Clearly Rolston believed he was obeying orders.
Preston had followed me out of the smoking-room and stood at the door, apicture of uneasy wonder. Let me say at once that Preston had been withme for six years, and was under-butler at my father's house for I don'tknow how many more. He is the most faithful and devoted creature onearth and, what is more, as sharp as a needle. He, at any rate, had nohand in this business.
"There's something extraordinarily queer about this," I said. "I assureyou that I have never been near the telephone during the whole night. Idined with Lord Arthur in Soho and the rest of the evening I have beenspending at the Ritz Hotel with Mr. Gideon Morse. You've been tricked,Preston."
"I'm extremely sorry, Sir Thomas," he was beginning when I cut himshort.
"It's not in the least your fault, but are you certain the voice wasmine?"
He frowned with the effort at recollection.
"Well, Sir Thomas," he said, "if you hadn't told me what you have, Ibelieve I could almost have sworn to it. Of course, voices are alteredon the telephone, to some extent, but it's extraordinary how they do, inthe main, keep their individual character."
He spoke the truth. I, who was using the telephone all day, entirelyagreed with him.
"Well, Preston, it was a skillful imitation and not my voice at all."
"If you will excuse me, Sir Thomas," he replied, "your voice is a verydistinctive one. It's not very easily mistaken by any one who has heardyour voice once or twice."
"That only makes the thing the more mysterious."
"The more easy, I should say, Sir Thomas. It must be far less difficultto imitate an outstanding voice with marked peculiarities than anordinary one."
He was right there, it hadn't occurred to me before.
"But who in the office would dare to imitate my voice?"
"That, of course, I could not say, Sir Thomas, but we've only the wordof the unknown person who rang me up that he was speaking from theoffice. For all we know he might have been in the next flat."
That again was a point and I noted it.
"I'm not going to waste any time," I said. "I'll go down to the officeat once and see if I can find out anything."
He helped me on with my coat and within five minutes of my entering Iwas again in Piccadilly.
Already the long ribbon of road was beginning to be faintly tinged withgray. The dawn was not yet, but night was flitting away before hiscoming. Save for an occasional policeman and the rumble of heavy cartspiled with sweet-smelling vegetables and flowers for Covent Garden, thegreat street was empty. I passed the Ritz Hotel with a tender thought ofone who lay sleeping there, and hurried eastwards. I had nearly got tothe Circus when a taxi swung out of the Haymarket and I hailed the man.He was tired and sleepy, had been waiting for hours at some club orother, but I persuaded him, with much gold, to take me, and we buzzedaway toward the street of ink.
Here was activity enough. The later editions of the morning papers werebeing vomited out of holes in the earth by hundreds of thousands.Windows were lighted up everywhere as I turned down a side streetleading to the river and came to my own offices.
I unlocked the door with my pass key and almost immediately I wasconfronted by Johns, the night-watchman, who flashed his torch in myface and inquired my business. I was pleased to see the man alert and athis post and asked who was in the building.
"Only Mr. Benson, Sir Thomas; it's his week for night duty."
I went up and very considerably surprised, not to say alarmed, young Mr.Benson, who had the photograph of a lady propped up on a desk before himand was obviously inditing an amorous epistle.
I put him through the most searching possible cross-examination, until Iwas quite sure that he had never telephoned to my flat. I knew him for atruthful, conscientious fellow, without a glimpse of humor or theslightest histrionic talent. Johns, called from below, was equallyemphatic. Certainly no taxi had arrived here during the last threehours, nor had William Rolston come near the office.
I returned to Piccadilly, utterly baffled and without a single ray oflight in my mind.
