CHAPTER II
A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
I
Having exchanged the clock for seven shillings and badly beaten thepawnbroker's assistant in a verbal duel, Bindle strolled along towardsWalham Green in the happiest frame of mind.
The night was young, it was barely nine o'clock, and his whole beingyearned for some adventure. He was still preoccupied with the subjectof larceny. His wits, Bindle argued, were of little or no use in thefurniture-removing business, where mediocrity formed the standard ofexcellence. There would never be a Napoleon of furniture-removers, butthere had been several Napoleons of crime. If a man were endowed withgenius, he should also be supplied with a reasonable outlet for it.
Walking meditatively along the North End Road, he was awakened torealities by his foot suddenly striking against something that jingled.He stooped and picked up two keys attached to a ring, which he swiftlytransferred to one of his pockets and passed on. Someone might bewatching him.
Two minutes later he drew forth his find for examination. Attached tothe ring was a metal tablet, upon which were engraved the words: "Thesekeys are the property of Professor Sylvanus Conti, 13 Audrey Mansions,Queen's Club, West Kensington, W. Reward for their return, 2s. 6d."
The keys were obviously those of the outer door of a block of mansionsand the door of a flat. If they were returned the reward was twoshillings and sixpence, which would bring up the day's takings to nineshillings and sixpence. If, on the other hand, the keys were retainedfor the purpose of----
At that moment Bindle's eye caught sight of a ticket upon a stalllittered with old locks and keys, above which blazed and spluttered aparaffin torch. "Keys cut while you wait," it announced. Without amoment's hesitation he slipped the two keys from their ring and heldthem out to the proprietor of the stall.
"'Ow much to make two like 'em, mate?" he enquired. The man took thekeys, examined them for a moment, and replied:
"One an' thruppence from you, capt'in."
"Well, think o' me as a pretty girl an' say a bob, an' it's done,"replied Bindle.
The man regarded him with elaborate gravity for a few moments. "If yerturn yer face away I'll try," he replied, and proceeded to fashion theduplicates.
Meanwhile Bindle deliberated. If he retained the keys there would besuspicion at the flats, and perhaps locks would be changed; if, on theother hand, the keys were returned immediately, the owner would troublehimself no further.
At this juncture he was not very clear as to what he intended to do.He was still undecided when the four keys were handed to him in returnfor a shilling.
The mind of Joseph Bindle invariably responded best to theministrations of beer, and when, half an hour later, he left the bar ofthe Purple Goat, his plans were formed, and his mind made up. Hevaguely saw the hand of Providence in this discovery of ProfessorConti's keys, and he was determined that Providence should not bedisappointed in him, Joseph Bindle.
First he bought a cheap electric torch, guaranteed for twelve ortwenty-four hours--the shopkeeper was not quite certain which. Then,proceeding to a chemist's shop, he purchased a roll of medicalbandaging. With this he retired up a side street and proceeded toswathe his head and the greater part of his face, leaving only hiseyes, nose, and mouth visible. Drawing his cap carefully over thebandages, he returned to the highway, first having improvised theremainder of the bandaging into an informal sling for his left arm.Not even Mrs. Bindle herself would have recognised him, so complete wasthe disguise.
Ten minutes later he was at Audrey Mansions. No one was visible, andwith great swiftness and dexterity he tried the duplicate keys in theopen outer door. One fitted perfectly. Mounting to the third floor,he inserted the other in the door of No. 13. The lock turned easily.Quite satisfied, he replaced them in his pocket and rang the bell.There was no answer. He rang again, and a third time, but withoutresult.
"Does 'is own charin'," murmured Bindle laconically, and descended tothe ground floor, where he rang the porter's bell, with the result thatthe keys were faithfully redeemed.
Bindle left the porter in a state of suppressed excitement over a vividand circumstantial account of a terrible collision that had just takenplace in the neighbourhood, between a motor-bus and a fire-engine,resulting in eleven deaths, including three firemen, whilst thirtypeople had been seriously injured, including six firemen. He himselfhad been on the front seat of the motor-bus and had escaped with abroken head and a badly-cut hand.
II
Professor Conti did not discover his loss until the porter handed himhis keys, enquiring at the same time if the Professor had heardanything of the terrible collision between the motor-bus andfire-engine. The Professor had not. He mounted to his flat with heavysteps. He was tired and dispirited. In his bedroom he surveyedhimself mournfully in the mirror as he undid the buckle of hisready-made evening-tie, which he placed carefully in the greencardboard box upon the dressing-table. In these days a tie had to lastthe week, aided by the application of French chalk to the salient foldsand corners.
Professor Sylvanus Conti, who had been known to his mother, Mrs.Wilkins, as Willie, emphasised in feature and speech his cockneyorigin. He was of medium height, with a sallow complexion--not thesallowness of the sun-baked plains of Italy, but rather that ofBermondsey or Bow.
He had been a brave little man in his fight with adverse conditions.Years before, chance had thrown across his path a doctor whose hypnoticpowers had been his ruin. Willie Wilkins had shown himself an aptpupil, and there opened out to his vision a great and glorious prospect.
First he courted science; but she had proved a fickle jade, and he wasforced to become an entertainer, much against his inclination. In timethe name of Professor Sylvanus Conti came to be known at most of thesecond-rate music halls as "a good hypnotic turn"--to use theprofessional phraseology.
One consolation he had--he never descended to tricks. If he wereunable to place a subject under control, he stated so frankly. He wasscientific, and believed in his own powers as he believed in nothingelse on earth.
He had achieved some sort of success. It was not what he had hopedfor; still, it was a living. It gave him food and raiment and a smallbachelor flat--he was a bachelor, all self-made men are--in a spot thatwas Kensington, albeit West Kensington.
The Professor continued mechanically to prepare himself for the night.He oiled his dark hair, brushed his black moustache, donned his longnightshirt, and finally lit a cigarette. He was thinking deeply. Hisdark, cunning little eyes flashed angrily. A cynical smile playedabout the corners of his mouth, half hidden by the bristly blackmoustache.
Only that evening he had heard that his rival, "Mr. John Gibson, theEnglish Mesmerist," had secured a contract to appear at some syndicatehalls that had hitherto engaged only him.
This man Gibson had been dogging Conti for months past. The barefacedeffrontery of the fellow added fuel to the fire of his rival's anger.To use an English name for a hypnotic turn upon the English music-hallstage! He should have known that hypnotism, like the equestrian anddressmaking arts, is continental, without exception or qualification.Yet this man, John Gibson, "the English Mesmerist," had dared to enterinto competition with him, Professor Sylvanus Conti. Gibson descendedto tricks, which placed him beyond the pale of science. He hadconfederates who, as "gentlemen among the audience," did weird andmarvellous things, all to the glory of "the English Mesmerist."
Still brooding upon a rather ominous future, the Professor wound hiswatch--a fine gold hunter that had been presented to him three yearspreviously by "A few friends and admirers"--and placed it upon thesmall table by his bedside, together with his money and othervaluables; then, carefully extinguishing his half-smoked cigarette, hegot into bed. It was late, and he was tired. A sense of injustice wasinsufficient to keep him awake for long, and, switching off theelectric light, he was soon asleep.
From a dream in which he had just discomfited his rival, "the EnglishMesmerist," by placing under con
trol an elephant, Professor Contiawakened with a start. He intuitively knew that there was someone inthe room. Lying perfectly still, he listened. Suddenly his bloodfroze with horror. A tiny disc of light played round the room andfinally rested upon the small table beside him. A moment later heheard a faint sound as of two substances coming into contact.Instinctively he knew it to be caused by his watch-chain tinklingagainst his ash-tray.
He broke out into a cold sweat. Moist with fear, he reviewed thesituation. A burglar was in the room, taking his--theProfessor's--presentation watch and chain. The thought of losingthese, his greatest treasures, awakened in his mind the realisationthat he must act, and act speedily. With a slow, deliberate movementhe worked his right hand up to the pillow, beneath which he always kepta revolver. It seemed an eternity before he felt the comforting touchof cold metal. He withdrew the weapon with deliberate caution.
The sound of someone tiptoeing about the room continued--soft, stealthymovements that, however, no longer possessed for him any terror. Afury of anger, a species of blood-lust gripped him. Someone had daredto break into his flat. The situation became intolerable. With oneswift movement he sat up, switched on the electric light, and cockedhis revolver.
An inarticulate sound, half-cry, half-grumble, came from the corner bythe chest of drawers. The back of the head, looking curiously like amonkish crown, flashed into a face, swathed in what appeared to bemedical bandages, through which was to be seen a pair of eyes in whichthere was obvious terror. It was Bindle.
"Hands up, or I shoot! Up, I say."
Up went Bindle's hands.
The Professor did not recognise his own voice. Suddenly he laughed.The ludicrous expression in Bindle's eyes, the unnatural position inwhich he crouched, his having caught a burglar red-handed--it was allso ridiculous.
Then there came the triumphant sense of victory. The Professor wascalm and collected now, as if the discovery of a burglar in his bedroomwere a thing of nightly occurrence. There seemed nothing strange inthe situation. The things to be done presented themselves in obviousand logical sequence. He was conscious of the dramatic possibilitiesof the situation.
Not so Bindle.
"This comes o' takin' advice of a 'daughter o' the Lord,'" he groaned."Wonder wot 'Earty'll say?"
In spite of his situation Bindle grinned.
"Turn round and face the wall, quick!"
It was the Professor's voice that broke in upon Bindle's thoughts. Heobeyed with alacrity and the tonsured scalp reappeared.
Carefully covering with his revolver the unfortunate Bindle, whosefirst effort at burglary seemed doomed to end so disastrously,Professor Conti slipped out of bed and, without removing his eyes fromBindle's back, sidled towards a small chest at the other side of theroom. This he opened, and from it took a pair of handcuffs, a"property" of his profession.
"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered with calm decision.
For one brief moment Bindle meditated resistance. He gave a swiftglance over his shoulder; but, seeing the determined look in hiscaptor's eyes and the glint of the revolver, he thought better of itand meekly complied.
The handcuffs clicked and Professor Conti smiled grimly.
As he stood gazing at the wall, Bindle's mind was still running on whatMrs. Bindle would say when she heard the news. Fate had treated himscurvily in directing him to a flat where a revolver and handcuffsseemed to be part of the necessary fittings. He fell to wondering whatpunishment novices at burglary generally received.
He was awakened from his reverie and the contemplation of aparticularly hideous wallpaper, by a sharp command to turn round. Hedid so, and found himself facing a ludicrous and curiously unheroicfigure. Over his nightshirt Professor Conti had drawn an overcoat withan astrachan collar and cuffs. Beneath the coat came a broad hem ofwhite nightshirt, then two rather thin legs, terminating in a pair ofred woollen bedroom slippers.
Bindle grinned appreciatively at the spectacle. He was more at hisease now that the revolver had been laid aside.
"You're a burglar, and you're caught."
The Professor showed his yellow teeth as he made this pronouncement.Bindle grinned. "You'll get five years for this," proceeded theProfessor encouragingly.
"I was just wonderin' to meself," responded Bindle imperturbably. "Theluck's wi' you, guv'nor," he added philosophically. "Fancy you 'avin''andcuffs as well as a revolver! Sort o' Scotland Yard, this 'erelittle 'ole. 'Spose you get a touch of nerves sometimes, and likes tobe ready. Five years, you said. Three was my figure. P'raps you'reright; it all depends on the ole boy on the bench. Ever done time,sir?" he queried cheerfully.
Professor Conti was too intent upon an inspiration that had flashedupon him to listen to his visitor's remarks. Suddenly he saw in thisthe hand of Providence, and at that moment Bindle saw upon the chest ofdrawers one of the Professor's cards bearing the inscription:
PROFESSOR SYLVANUS CONTI, _Hypnotist and Mesmerist._
13 AUDREY MANSIONS, QUEEN'S CLUB, WEST KENSINGTON, LONDON, W.
He turned from the contemplation of the card, and found himself beingregarded by his captor with great intentness. The ferret-like eyes ofthe Professor gazed into his as if desirous of piercing a hole throughhis brain. Bindle experienced a curious dreamy sensation. Rememberingthe card he had just seen, he blinked self-consciously, licked hislips, grinned feebly, and then half closed his eyes.
Professor Conti advanced deliberately, raised his hands slowly, passedthem before the face of his victim, keeping his eyes fixed the while.Over the unprepossessing features of Bindle there came a vacant look,and over those of the Professor one of triumph. After a lengthy pausethe Professor spoke.
"You are a burglar. Repeat it."
"I am a burglar," echoed Bindle in a toneless voice.
The Professor continued: "You tried to rob me, Professor SylvanusConti, of 13 Audrey Mansions, Queen's Club, West Kensington, bybreaking into my flat at night."
In the same expressionless voice Bindle repeated the Professor's words.
"Good," murmured Conti. "Good! Now sit down." Bindle complied, aghost of a grin flitting momentarily across his face, as the Professorturned to reach a chair which he placed immediately opposite to the oneon which Bindle sat, and about two yards distant. With his eyes fixed,he commenced in a droning tone:
"You have entered my flat with the deliberate and cold-bloodedintention of robbing, perhaps of murdering me. It is my intention towrite a note to the police, which you will yourself deliver, and waituntil you are arrested. Now repeat what I have said."
In a dull, mechanical voice Bindle did as he was told. For a fullminute the Professor gazed steadily into his victim's eyes, made a fewmore passes with his hands, and then, rising, went to a small table andwrote:
DEAR SIR,
The bearer of this letter is a burglar who has just broken into my flatto rob me. I have placed him under hypnotic control, and he will givehimself up. You will please arrest him. I will 'phone in the morning.
Yours faithfully, SYLVANUS CONTI.
Sealing and addressing the letter, the Professor then removed thehandcuffs from Bindle's wrists, bade him rise, and gave him theenvelope.
"You will now go and deliver this note," he said, explaining with greatdistinctness the whereabouts of the police-station. Bindle wasproceeding slowly towards the door, when the Professor called upon himto stop. He halted abruptly. "Show me what you have in your pockets."
Bindle complied, producing the presentation watch and chain, a goldscarf-pin, a pair of gold sleeve-links, one diamond and three goldstuds, and a diamond ring. He omitted to include the Professor's loosechange, which he had picked up from the small table by the bedside.
For a moment the Professor pondered; then, as if coming to a suddendetermination, he told Bindle to replace the articles in his pocket,and dismissed him.
Having bolted the door, Professor Conti returned to his bedroom. Forhalf an hou
r he sat in his nondescript costume, smoking cigarettes. Hewas thoroughly satisfied with the night's work. It had been ordainedthat his flat should be burgled, and he, Sylvanus Conti, professor ofhypnotism and mesmerism, seizing his opportunity, had diverted to hisown ends the august decrees of destiny.
He pictured Mr. William Gibson reading the account of his triumph inthe evening papers. He saw the headlines. He himself would inspirethem. He saw it all. Not only would those come back who had forsakenhim for "the English Mesmerist," but others also would want him. Hesaw himself a "star turn" at one of the West-end halls.
He saw many things: fame, fortune, a motor-car, and, in the fardistance, the realisation of his great ambition, a scientific career.In a way he was a little sorry for the burglar, the instrument of fate.
Throwing off his overcoat and removing his slippers, the Professorswitched off the light, got into bed, and was soon asleep.
Bindle: Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph Bindle Page 2
