Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER IX

  When Teddy France, bidding Doris a formal goodnight, whispered"to-morrow" he had in mind a certain reception at the house of a mutualacquaintance, and he went home looking forward to meeting her there withhopes irrepressible. He felt that the girl he had loved for years was--ifnot with her whole heart--on the verge of surrender; would have been hisby now but for the untimely entrance of Bullard and the succeedingintervention of Mrs. Lancaster; and he lived most of the night and thefollowing day in a state of exaltation.

  Thus Doris's note, received in the evening, was a blow that seemed tocrash to the centre of his soul. At first he imagined wicked,unreasonable things. Then, his wrath failing, he realised that only onething could have made Doris act as she had done. She had been driven by asudden overpowering pressure. Who had exerted it? Teddy did not doubt themother's ability for coercion any more than her vaunting ambition, and heshrunk from blaming the father; yet he feared that Mr. Lancaster, besetby financial troubles of which he had long had an inkling, had sought away out through the sacrifice of his daughter. Well, there was nothing tobe done, he decided in his misery; interference on his part would beworse than vain, and would only cause Doris to suffer a little more.

  At rather a late hour the craving for a glimpse of her drew him, afterall, to the reception.

  She was dancing when he entered the room, and, with a pang of angry pain,he discovered that she was lovelier than ever. Her face gave no hint ofthe heart-sickness she endured; she nodded to him in the old friendlyway, and the easy recognition brought home to him the cool truth that,after all, the wild hopes of the previous night had been of his ownmaking, not hers. Yet why had she written and so quickly, to inform himof her bargain with Bullard? Was her note just an uncontrollable cry forpity, sympathy?

  It was after midnight when he led her to a corner in the desertedsupper-room.

  "Shall I congratulate you, Doris?" he asked gently.

  "Why, yes, I think you had better," she answered with a bitter littlesmile, "on having done my duty. Don't look so shocked, Teddy," shewent on, "I had to say it, and you are the only person besides fatherand mother who knows what I have done. And now I'm going to ask agreat favour."

  "Yes, Doris?"

  "It is that you will prove your friendship to me--prove it once more,Teddy--by never, after to-night, referring to the matter. I'm going totry hard not to let it poison my life--for a year, at any rate."

  "Very well.... But I must ask at least one question."

  "Ask."

  "Could _I_ have done anything to prevent this?"

  "No one," she answered sadly, "could have done anything, excepting oneman, and he died last week--Christopher Craig."

  "Christopher Craig--dead? No wonder your father has been upset. Of courseI know of their long friendship in South Africa, and once I was Mr.Craig's guest in Scotland along with Alan. The old man had a tremendousadmiration for you, Doris."

  "I loved him, though I did not see him for several years before the end.Well, I have answered your question. Have I your promise?"

  He put his hand tenderly over hers. "I will give you two promises,Doris," he said deliberately; "the one you ask for and another. I promiseyou that Bullard shall never call you his wife!"

  "Oh!" she cried, pale. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because I mean it--and it is all I have to say." He laughed shortly."But I am going to lay myself out to confound Mr. Bullard within theyear, and I will do it. Now tell me this, Doris; are you and I tocontinue being friends--openly, I mean?"

  "Why not? I must have one friend."

  He bent and kissed her hand, and rose abruptly. "Let us go back tothe dancing before I lose my head," he said, with a twisted smile."And I must not do that when at last I've got something to do that'sworth doing!"

  Teddy was a creature of impulses and instincts not by any meansinfallible. They had led him into blunders and scrapes before now. On theother hand, they had protected him from mistakes no less serious. Had hebeen a matter-of-fact person he would have said to himself: "What can Ido? I know of nothing positive against Bullard. Being a poor man, Icannot, by a stroke of the pen, make Lancaster independent of him, and Ineed not waste my wits in plotting to confound him by some greatfinancial operation such as I've read of in novels," But what Teddy saidto himself was something to this effect: "I suspect that Bullard is notquite straight, and if one watches such a man for twelve months as thoughone's life depended on the watching, one is likely to learn something.The only question at present is where to begin."

  It is not to be assumed that Teddy went home from the reception in alight-hearted, hopeful condition. On the contrary he was extremelyharassed, and wished he had kept to himself the brave prophecy made toDoris. Nevertheless, dawn found him unshaken in his determination to makegood that prophecy. If, instead of spending the whole morning in doinghis duty to the insurance company, he had been able to spend an earlypart of it in a state of invisibility within Bullard's private office, hewould have justified himself beyond his highest expectations.

  Bullard on entering the outer office, about nine-thirty, received fromthe chief clerk a curious signal which was equivalent to the words"Undesirable waiting to see you. Bolt for private room." But eitherBullard was slower than usual this morning, or the "Undesirable" tooalert. Ere the former's hand left the open door the latter stepped roundit, saying--

  "How are you, Mr. Bullard? Been waiting--"

  "Get out of this," said Bullard crisply, and stood away from the door.

  "Really," said the visitor with an absurdly pained look, "this is avery unkind reception." He was a small individual of dark complexion,leering eyes and vulgar mouth. His clothing was respectable, if notfashionable; he displayed a considerable amount of starched linen ofindifferent lustre.

  "Get out!"

  "Give me five minutes." The tone was servile, yet not wholly so. "Worthyour while, Mr. Bullard."

  Bullard looked him up and down. "Very well," he said abruptly. "Closethat door and follow me." He said no more until they were in his room,himself seated at his desk, the other standing a little way off andturning his bowler hat between his hands.

  "Now, Marvel, what the devil do you want?"

  The visitor smiled deprecatingly into his revolving hat. "What do most ofus want, Mr. Bullard?"

  "I'll tell you what most of us do not want--the attentions of thepolice."

  "Tut, tut, Mr. Bullard. Of course _we_ don't want that, nor do _we_ needit--do _we?_" The impudence of the fellow's manner was exquisite.

  Bullard, toying with the nugget on his chain, affected not to notice it.Harshly he said: "Eighteen months ago--"

  "In this very room, Mr. Bullard--"

  "--I handed you five hundred pounds on the express condition that youused the ticket for Montreal, which I supplied, and never approachedme again."

  "I am sorry to say," the other said after a moment, "that Canada did notagree with my health, and I assure you that I made the five hundred go asfar as possible."

  "All that may be very interesting to yourself and friends--if youhave any."

  "You, Mr. Bullard, are my sole friend."

  Bullard grinned. "If you imagine I'm going to be a friend in need, youare mightily mistaken!"

  "Please don't be nasty, Mr. Bullard--"

  "Leave my name alone, and clear out. Time's up." Bullard turned to a pileof letters.

  "This is a blow," murmured Marvel, "a sad blow. But I would remind youthat the five hundred was not a gift, but a payment for certaindocuments."

  "Quite so. And it closed our acquaintance. Go!"

  "I wonder if it did. One moment. I desire to return once more to SouthAfrica. Things are looking up there again. With five hundred pounds--"

  "That's enough. I'm busy."

  "Just another moment. Touching those documents relating to the affair ofChristopher Craig's brother--"

  "Shut up!"

  "--it is one of the strangest inadvertencies you ever heard of, Mr.Bullard, but
the fact remains that, eighteen months ago, I delivered toyou--not the originals but copies--"

  Bullard wheeled round. "Don't try that game, Marvel. You are quitecapable of forgery, but I made certain that they were originals before Iburned them."

  "Ah, you burned them! What a pity! So you can't compare them with thedocuments I hold--in a very safe place, Mr. Bullard."

  "I should not take the trouble in any case. Now will you clear out orbe thrown?"

  "You make it very hard for me. Do you wish me to take the originals toMr. Christopher Craig?"

  "Pray do. He's dead."

  "Dead!" Mr. Marvel took a step backward. "Dear, dear!" He raised his hatto his face as though to screen his emotion and smiled into it. "When didit happen?"

  "A few days ago. Now, once and for all--"

  "Then nothing remains to me but to offer the papers to his brother's son,an undoubtedly interested party, Mr. Alan--"

  "Alan Craig is also dead."

  Mr. Marvel's hat fell to the floor, and lay neglected. Mr. Marvel beganto laugh softly while Bullard wondered whether the man's sanity, alwayssuspect, had given way.

  "Come, come, Mr. Bullard," Marvel coughed at last; "come, come!"

  "Young Craig," said Bullard, restraining himself, "was lost on an Arcticexpedition, a year ago."

  "Then he must have been found again."

  "... What do you say?"

  "Why, I saw him--let me see--just fourteen days ago."

  "Rot!"

  "I'd know Frank Craig's son anywhere, Mr. Bullard; and there he was onthe quay at Montreal, the day I left. What's the matter?"

  With a supreme effort Bullard controlled himself.

  "Marvel," he said, "what do you expect to gain by bringing me a lielike that?"

  "It is no lie," the other returned with a fairly straight glance. "I wasas near to him as I am to you at this moment. He was in a labourer'sclothes--"

  "Nonsense!"

  "--working with a gang on the quay."

  "You were mistaken. The search party gave up in despair."

  "I know nothing of that, Mr. Bullard, but I'm prepared to take oath--"

  "There is no need for Alan Craig, if it were he, to be working as a quaylabourer. I tell you--"

  "I am so sure of what I say, Mr. Bullard, that failing to get my pricefrom you, I will cross the Atlantic again, working my passage if need be,to place the documents in the hands of that quay labourer. Since hisuncle old Christopher is dead, there must be something pretty solidawaiting him." Marvel, stooping leisurely, picked up his hat andcarefully eliminated the dent.

  "Look here," said Bullard, breaking a silence. "Did you or did you notswindle me with those papers?"

  "An inadvertence on my part, if you please, Mr. Bullard."

  "Oh, go to the devil! You can't blackmail me. Go and work your passage,if you like."

  The other took a step forward. "Do you think I had better see Mr.Lancaster? I could explain to him that he is less guilty in thematter of Christopher's brother than he imagines himself to be. Icould even prove--"

  "Lancaster is unwell--"

  "My disclosures might make him feel better--eh?"

  Bullard felt himself being cornered. He reflected for a moment;then--"How are you going to satisfy me that the papers you say you holdare the originals?"

  "I'm afraid you must take my word for it."

  "Your word--ugh! Will you bring them here at nine o'clock to-night?"

  "Will you bring L500 in five-pound notes?"

  It seemed that they had reached a deadlock. Bullard was thinkingfuriously.

  At last he spoke. "No; I will bring one hundred pounds, and I will tellyou how you may earn--earn mind--the remaining four. If you accept thejob--not a difficult one--you will give me the papers in exchange forthe hundred."

  "But--"

  "Not another word. Take my offer or leave it." Bullard turned to hisdesk. "And don't dare to lie to me again. Also, ask yourself what chanceyour word would have against mine in a court of law?"

  At the end of twenty seconds the other said quickly: "I will be here atnine," and turned towards the door.

  "By the way," Bullard called over his shoulder, "you had better comeprepared for a night journey. And, I say! as you go out now try to lookas if you had been damned badly treated. Further, before you come back,do what you can to alter that face of yours."

  The door closed; Bullard's expression relaxed. For the first time in hislife he had been within an ace of admitting--to himself--defeat. But allwas not lost, even if he accepted Marvel's story, which he was very farfrom doing, his intelligence revolting no less at the bare idea of AlanCraig's existence than at that of the young man's supporting it as a quaylabourer. Furthermore, were it proved to him that Alan had actually comefrom the Arctic, he would still not despair. He would have to act at highspeed, but he was used to crises. As to Mr. Marvel, well, that cleverperson was going to be made useful to begin with; afterwards....

  Bullard broke away from the clutches of thought to attend to the moreurgent letters. He had just finished when his colleague came in.

  "Hullo, Lancaster," he cried cheerfully, "I fancied your doctor hadcommanded rest. Glad to see you all the same. As a matter of fact, I wascoming to look you up shortly."

  "Couldn't rest at home," returned Lancaster, seating himself at thefire. "I say, Bullard," he said abruptly, "you'll be good to mygirl--won't you?"

  Bullard's eyebrows went up, but his voice was kindly. "Do you doubt it,Lancaster?"

  "N-no. But you can surely understand my feelings--my anxiety. She--shehas been a good daughter."

  Bullard nodded. "It won't be my fault," he said quietly, "if Dorisregrets marrying me."

  "Thank you, Bullard." As though ashamed of his emotion the older manimmediately changed the subject. "Anything fresh this morning?"

  The other smiled. "One moment." He got up, went to a cabinet and cameback with a glass containing a little brandy. "The journey to the Cityhas tired you. Drink up!"

  "Thanks; you are thoughtful." Lancaster took a few sips, and went white."Bullard, have you something bad to tell me?"

  "Finish your brandy. ... Well, it might have been worse. Steady! Don'tget excited, or I shan't tell you."

  After a moment--"Go on," said Lancaster.

  "Marvel has come back from Canada."

  "Ah! ... But I always feared he would. More money, I suppose?"

  "Precisely. Only he brought a piece of news which I have so far refusedto credit, though doubtless stranger things have happened. Pull yourselftogether. Marvel declares that, a fortnight ago, he saw Alan Craig inthe flesh."

  "Alan Craig!" Lancaster fell back in the big chair. "Thank God," hemurmured, "thank God!" Tears rushed to his eyes.

  "Better let me give you details, few as they are, before you give furtherthanks," Bullard said. "Bear in mind what manner of man Marvel is; also,that his story was part of a threat to extort money."

  A minute later Lancaster was eagerly asking: "But don't you think it maybe true, Bullard?"

  "For the present," was the cool reply, "we are going to act as though itwere true, as though the will were waste paper--not that I everconsidered it as anything but a last resource, for its production wouldinvolve sundry unattractive formalities."

  "And yet," said Lancaster uneasily, "you told me once of a man who hadseen Alan die."

  "Leave that out for the present. I shall deal with Flitch presently, andGod help him if he has played a game of his own! Meantime, the one objectin view must be the Green Box at Grey House."

  "For Heaven's sake be cautious! You spoke of bribing the man Caw, but themore I have thought of it--"

  "That's past. There is no time for delicate negotiations. If the box isstill in the house, we must find and take it; if elsewhere, we must makeother plans. But I'm pretty sure it has not gone to a bank or safedeposit. Christopher meant it to remain in the house, so that it shouldbe part of his gift to Alan."

  "Caw will be on the alert."


  "He will not expect a second attempt all at once. Hang it, man, we musttake risks! L600,000! I'm not going to let any chance slip." Bullardwent over to his desk and picked up a cablegram. "The Iris mine isflooded again. That means at least a couple of thousand less for each ofus this year."

  Lancaster groaned helplessly. "Trouble upon trouble! But I cannot faceanother visit to Christopher's house--"

  "Be easy. You shall be spared that. I think I had better tell you nothingfor the present--except that I may take a run over to Paris within thenext few days."

  "Paris!"

  "You can say I'm there if any one asks."

  Lancaster drew his hand across his brow. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "Iwish I were at peace--in jail."

  "Don't be a fool! You'll feel differently when we open the Green Box."

  The other shook his head. "There's another point that has worried mehorribly. We have thought we were the only persons outside of GreyHouse who knew of the diamonds; but who was the person who took the boxthat night? Whoever he was he must have seen us and heard something ofour talk."

  "Yes," said Bullard, with a short laugh, "it seems very dreadful andmysterious, doesn't it?--especially as Caw recovered the diamonds sospeedily. I've thought it out, Lancaster, and I've struck only onereasonable conclusion. There was no fourth person present that night. Cawwas fooling us all the time. The cupboard is really a passage to anotherroom, made for old Christopher's convenience, no doubt. How's that?"

  "Caw acted well, if he were acting. And why should he have suspectedus at all?"

  "Simply because he happened to know what was in the box. Who would trusta fellow creature alone with L600,000 in a portable form? And Caw wasprobably in the position of guardian. Have you a better theory?"

  Lancaster leaned forward, staring at the carpet. "It came into my mindlast night," he said in a queerly hushed voice, "that it might havebeen ... Christopher himself."

  "Good God, man, positively you must have a change of air! Do you doubtthat Christopher is dead?"

  A pause.

  "Bullard, what you and I, his friends, were doing that night was enoughto--to make him rise--oh, no, I don't mean that--though the diamonds wereso much to him. It was a crazy thought. I must get rid of it."

  "I should say so." Bullard forced a laugh. "Meantime, you may comfortyour soul with the assurance that you'll have nothing to do with thisfresh attempt, except to share in the spoil. If I were you, I'd go homenow and get Doris to join you in a long run into the country. Let thewind blow away those absurd fears and fancies. I'm calling on your wifethis afternoon, you know."

  The other rose obediently. "Your news has upset me. I don't know what tothink. Marvel was always such a liar. I--I suppose nothing I can say ordo will move you from your present course?"

  "Nothing, Lancaster."

  Lancaster sighed and with shoulders bowed went out.