First Person Paramount

by Ambrose Pratt

  V

  THE CAMPAIGN OPENS

  That paste-board gave me a shock; it sent a chill, creepy feeling downmy spine. It smelt dangerous. I read the name again: "Mr. SeftonDagmar!" So, while my master was away journeying down to Newhaven tokeep the appointment, I had fabricated, with his nephew; by a snarl ofchance, his nephew had called at his house in London. Perhaps they hadpassed each other on the road.

  I turned over the card and received a second shock. Across it wasscrawled in pencil:--"Will call to-morrow morning at 10. Urgent."

  "Curse the luck!" I muttered. "Uncle and nephew will meet and my masterwill learn that, in spite of his injunction not to leave the house, Idisobeyed him. Subsequent discoveries will infallibly re-excite hisfirst and easily smothered distrust of myself!" It seemed to be morethan ever important that the secret of the identity of my master'simpersonator should be preserved and that not the remotest breath ofsuspicion should attach to me. Otherwise it would be impossible toimprove my fortunes without assuming the naked and hideous character ofa blackmailer, the very idea of which was bitterly repugnant to mydisposition. I hurried into Sir William Dagmar's library, lit the gasand caught up a time-table. It informed me that the first passengertrain from Newhaven would arrive in London on the following morning at10.15. I made a hasty calculation. It would take Sir William fifteenminutes to drive from the station, and the train might be a littlelate, trains often are. If Mr. Sefton Dagmar therefore might be reliedon to be punctual, I should have at least half an hour wherein tosmoothe out the snarl of fate arranged for my undoing. Much might bedone in half an hour! Relieved by the reflection, I put out the lightand went upstairs to bed. I was very tired, but I cannot truthfullydeclare that I slept. Whenever my eyes closed I saw horrid visions. Mr.Cavanagh lying on the floor with his skull shattered and blood oozingfrom the hole in his head; or a white faced man stretched upon a marbleslab with a dreadful bloody cavity in his chest; sometimes a hairychested ape similarly situated! God defend me from such another night!At dawn I arose from my bed of torture and lay for an hour in a plungebath filled with hot water. A subsequent ice cold shower and a carefultoilet restored to my appearance its pristine freshness, but there weremany grey hairs about my temples which I had never seen before. I amnot a lover of wine, but I dared not face the day without support, andI derived the stimulus I needed from a bottle of my master's champagne.Afterwards I felt better, but I also felt that I should never be ableto smile light-heartedly again. The hours that followed I devoted tothoughts of Marion Le Mar. I admitted to myself that I loved her, anddeep down in my heart I knew that for her sake and at her bidding Iwould sacrifice, if need arose, anything, even my life. It was astrange conviction that, to be entertained by a man like me--a manwhose motto had ever been--"First person paramount." And yet I speedilyrecognized that it was as much a part of me as my hand, and might onlyas easily be combated or parted with. I had no hope of winning her,however, no hope at all, hardly even a wish. She seemed set as farbeyond my reach as the stars, and her contemplation inspired me with arealization of my unworthiness and her divinity which was neitherhumiliating nor discomforting. "For," thought I, "the stars shine uponus all, the noble and the base alike, and who shall say that theydiscriminate between the ardent looks of worshippers?"

  The bell rang and I opened the door for Mr. Sefton Dagmar. In onesecond I comprehended why Sir William disliked his nephew. My master,for all his faults, was a deep-natured man of large mental mould.Before me stood his absolute antithesis. I saw a small, shallow,smiling, cunning face, that betrayed to the keen observer every emotionof the mind. The features were regular, even handsome, yet puny, andthe soul that looked out of his eyes was facile, treacherous andsycophantic. He wore a slight yellow moustache, and his eyebrows werewhite. He looked too young. I judged him to be twenty-five. He was talland very slight; he wore a pale brown overcoat and a suit beneath oftasteless checked tweed.

  "Mr. Sefton Dagmar?" I asked with deference.

  He nodded, looking me swiftly up and down. "Uncle in?" he airilydemanded.

  "No, sir; but I expect him shortly. Will you step inside?"

  "Might as well," he drawled, but he entered with alacrity, and I ledthe way to the ante-chamber.

  "Where is my uncle?" he enquired, as I removed his overcoat.

  "I do not know, sir?"

  "He got my card, I suppose?"

  "Not yet, sir. He has been away."

  "All night?"

  "Yes sir."

  He whistled then faced me with a cunning smile. "You are new," hebegan. "Where is Butts?"

  "He left a month ago."

  "What is your name?"

  "Brown, sir?"

  He nodded, eyeing me as a cat might a mouse. "You look a good sort," hedeclared presently. "How do you get on with my uncle, Brown?"

  I affected to hesitate. "Fairly well, thank you, sir," I repliedstammering a little.

  "That means damned poorly," he retorted, nodding his head again. "Oh! Iknow him, Brown; I know him, you need'nt tell me. Why Brown, I'm hisonly living relative, his sole heir, and how do you think he treats me?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, sir?"

  "He allows me a paltry three hundred a year, on the condition that Ilive in Newhaven with a beastly solicitor fellow to whom he made mesign articles!"

  "That seems very hard, sir."

  "Hard, Brown," he cried, his eyes agleam, "Hard! you call it hard! Whythe old monster is a millionaire, and as I told you before I am hisonly living relative!"

  I put on an expression of shocked sympathy. "It is almost incredible!"I gasped.

  He gave me a grateful look. "It is true, though!" he declared, "true asgospel. And the only excuse he could rake up for doing it was that Ioutran the constable a bit at Oxford. He's the meanest old skin-flintin the United Kingdom!"

  "I wish I could help you, sir," I murmured in my most reverentialmanner. "It seems very hard and really wrong, sir, that a nice handsomeyoung gentleman like you, if you'll pardon me for speaking so, sir, toyour face, should be tied up in a little village like Newhaven when youmight be enjoying yourself and seeing life in London and Paris, sir!"

  "As I ought to be," he cried hotly, evidently stirred to anger at mypicture of his misfortune. "It's a cursed shame, Brown, a cursed shame!"

  "It is indeed, sir. I only wish I could help you, sir."

  He gave me a thoughtful look. "You never know," he muttered, "the mousehelped the lion!"

  I nearly laughed in his face, but controlling the impulse I saidinstead--"And with the best of good will, sir!"

  "You're a damned good fellow, Brown!" he cried with energy. "And when Iam Sir Sefton Dagmar I shall not forget you." His voice sank into a lowconfidential key. "By the way, Brown, there is a small service youmight render me."

  "Anything," I answered eagerly, "I'd do anything for _you_, sir!"

  He grinned with pleasure, the callow youth. "It's nothing much," hemuttered. "Only I want you to tell me exactly how your master is--thestate of his health, I mean. I can never get any satisfaction out ofhim, and I have a lot of friends who want to know." He sighed andfrowned.

  _Post obit_ bond-holders--was my reflection.

  "I don't think he will live very long, sir," I whispered, lookingnervously about me. "At night he coughs something dreadful, sir, and hejust lives on medicines."

  Mr. Sefton Dagmar's face looked for a moment like that of a happycherub.

  "Do you really think so, Brown?" he cried excitedly.

  "I'm sure of it, sir."

  "Well, see here, Brown, when he dies, I'll make you my man, if youlike!"

  "Will you really, sir?" I tried to look extravagantly delighted.

  "Yes--and I'll give you twice as much screw as you get now, whatever hegives you. But for that I'll expect you to do some things for me in themeanwhile." He looked me keenly in the eyes.

  "Anything at all, sir," I protested.

  "Very good. I want you to drop me a line every week to tell me how heis, and if he t
akes any sudden turn for the worse you may send me atelegram."

  "Certainly, sir. Is that all?"

  "No!" He glanced anxiously towards the door. "No one can hear us, canthey?"

  "There's no one in the house, sir, but you and me."

  "That's famous; well, Brown, see here, I'm heavily in debt and some ofthe beggars are pressing me into a corner. That's why I came up totown."

  "Yes, sir!"

  "And--and--" his face changed colour, "there is a woman too!" hestammered, "an actress!"

  "There's always a woman, I should think, where a handsome younggentleman like you, sir, is concerned," I murmured with a sympatheticsmile.

  His vanity was tickled, but the conceited grin my words had called tohis lips quickly faded into a look of anxiety. The matter wasmanifestly serious.

  "They are the devil, Brown," he solemnly assured me. "This one has gotme into a dickens own mess, she's as pretty as a picture, Brown, but aperfect brute all the same!"

  "Breach of promise, sir?"

  He nodded, with a lugubrious frown. "I've been served with a writ," hemuttered, "and there's nothing for it but to make a clean breast to thegovernor!"

  "Can I help you in any way, sir?"

  "I thought you might have something to suggest as to how I shouldbroach it to him, Brown. When is he in the best humour--morning,afternoon or evening?"

  "If you'd take my advice, sir," I replied, "you'll not tell your uncleat all, sir. He can't last long, and I should think that, as you are alawyer, you ought to be able to stave off the proceedings for a monthor so. If you were to confess, he'd be bound to be terribly annoyed,and the odds are he'd do you some injury in his will. He knows he isdying, sir."

  Mr. Sefton Dagmar turned quite pale. "I never thought of that!" hecried. "By Jove, so he might. He might cut me off with a shilling. Theentail is barred long enough ago."

  I was dying to get him out of the house, if only for half an hour. Ihad hit upon the tail end of a plan.

  "It would never do to run such a risk!" I assured him. "And if you'llallow me to guide you, sir, you'll run away at once. He will be here ina minute, and the odds are that he'll come in bad tempered."

  "I'll go!" he replied. "But, Brown, I'd like to see him, just to besure how he is looking."

  "Then come back in an hour or two. But be sure, sir, and say nothingabout your having been here before. He's a terribly suspicious man, andif he thought that you and I had been conferring, he would dismiss mestraight off the reel!"

  "Never fear, Brown. I wouldn't have you sacked for the world. You'll betoo useful to me here."

  "I really believe I shall, sir."

  In another moment he had gone, and I watched him walking up the street,through a slit in the blind, until he had disappeared. It was exactlytwenty minutes past ten. I hurried to my master's study and, quick asthought, turned the whole place topsy turvy. I ransacked his privatedrawers and scattered their contents broadcast, I even overturned hisheap of reference books. I heard the latch turn in the front door as Idescended the stairs.

  "Oh, it is you at last, sir. Thank God!" I cried as Sir William Dagmarappeared.

  He was looking like a ghost, white and utterly wearied out, and hischin was sunk upon his chest; but my words startled him, and he turnedon me with compressed lips, in sudden energy.

  "What is the matter, Brown?" he demanded.

  "Oh, if you please, sir, I have had a terrible night!" (I poured outthe words in a perfect stream.) "Just as I was going to bed, sir, itwas about eight o'clock, sir, for I was uncommon tired, the bell rang.I went down to open the door and there you were standing, at least Ithought it was you, sir. He looked exactly like you, and he spoke likeyou, sir, and he called me 'Brown,' sir----"

  "Great God!" exclaimed my master, and he fell to trembling like a leaf."What is that you say, but wait! wait!----"

  He staggered into the dining room and clutched a decanter of spirit,which he held up with a shaking hand to his lips. He took a deepdraught, and then broke into a frightful fit of coughing. I tended uponhim as gently as a woman, and half led, half carried him to a sofa,where I forced him to lie down. But his anxiety was in flames, and assoon as he could he sat up and commanded me to proceed.

  "What did this--this double of me say and do?" he gasped. "Tell mequickly!"

  "He went straight up stairs, sir. He was there about half an hour, andthen your study bell rang. He was standing by your desk with yourtime-table in his hand, sir. He said to me--'I suppose, Brown, youthought I had gone to Newhaven!'

  "'Yes, sir,' said I, and he laughed like anything, just as though hewas very much amused about something, and all the while I thought hewas you, sir. The only thing was, sir, that he wore a differentovercoat, and I kept wondering what you had done with your fur coat,sir. He was searching the time-table, and presently, sir, he lookedover at me and he said--'Why, Brown, if I'd gone to Newhaven, Icouldn't have got back until ten fifteen to-morrow morning.'

  "'Indeed, sir!' says I. And at that he simply roared out laughing.'Brown,' he cries, 'you'll be the death of me!' I was very muchastonished, sir, and I thought that you'd taken leave of your senses,sir, but after you--that is to say--_he_--after he'd got over hislaughing--he looks me in the face and says--says he--'Brown, you fool,'can't you see I'm not your master! Here look at my thumbs!' And sureenough, sir, he had both his thumbs quite complete, sir, and then Iknew he couldn't be you, sir! I was that dumbfounded for a bit, sir,that I was ready to sink through the floor, and all I could do was justgape at his hands. Then of a sudden he whips one of them into hispocket, sir, and he pulled out a pistol, which he clapped to my head.'Listen to me, Brown!' says he, very quiet like, but in a terriblevoice, sir, 'Listen to me, Brown!' says he. 'Your master is in Newhavenby now, and he can't get back till the morning. When he comes tell himfrom me, that his double will find out to-night all he wants to know,and that he'll hear from me within a week. Tell him, too, that heneedn't bother suspecting young Sefton, I could have got the young assto help me if I'd wanted, but he was too great a fool, and I scorn tohave him blamed. Tell Sir William I'm playing a lone hand, and that itrests with him to keep it a lone hand. And now, Brown, you just stayhere for the next half hour, while I go through the house, and don'tyou budge, or as sure as death I'll plug a bullet through your brains!'

  "With that, sir, he dragged me into a corner, and put my face to thewall--and--and--I stayed there, sir!"

  "What!" thundered my master. "How long?"

  I began to whimper. "I--I--take shame to admit I played the coward,sir," I blubbed out.

  "But if--if you'd heard him--speak, sir--and seen the look in hiseyes--sir--you--you--may be----'"

  "Enough!" he interjected very sharply. "I'm not blaming you, my man,I'm asking for information. How long did you stay in the corner wherehe put you?"

  "A long while, sir."

  "How soon did he leave the house?"

  "I don't know, sir. I seemed to hear noises for hours and hours,sir--and--and--" here I broke down with a really artistic sob. "It'sturned me quite grey, sir--all about the temples--and I was brown asbrown--last evening, sir!"

  Sir William got to his feet and placed a hand upon my shoulder.

  "There, there, Brown, compose yourself!" he said in kinder tones. "Ican see that you have had a great fright, and you were right to run norisks. But tell me did you send for the police after you discoveredthat the man had gone?"

  "I--no, sir," I stammered. "You told me on no account to leave thehouse!"

  "Brown!" he cried indignantly.

  "Well, sir--I--I--I--simply daren't venture outside the house, sir!" Iblurted out.

  My master frowned and shook his head. "Just as well, perhaps!" hemuttered to himself. He added in a louder key. "Well, my man, you havegiven me much to think over, and I have trouble enough upon my handsalready."

  "Trouble, sir!" I repeated.

  "A dear friend of mine is dead. You know him, Brown, Mr. GeorgeCavanagh. He shot himself last night in his studio!
"

  It was on the tip of my tongue to scream out--"in his studio!" I was sosurprised, but I restrained myself just in time and cried instead:--

  "Good heavens! sir, how awful! Why did he do it, sir?"

  Sir William shrugged his shoulders. "They say that it was in a fit ofdespair, because the great picture he was painting was accidentallydestroyed by fire. But you may read for yourself, Brown, the morningpapers are full of it!"

  The papers! I had never even thought to look at one. I had been sopreoccupied. My master went on speaking. "I'll go upstairs, Brown, andhave a bath," he said, "after which I shall attend the inquest!"

  "But your double, sir!" I cried. "Ought not we to tell the police atonce about him, sir?"

  He shook his head. "No, no, Brown. Better not, better not. He isprobably some friend of mine who has been playing a practical joke atmy expense. Keep what has happened to yourself, Brown. I do not wish tobe laughed at!"

  "Very good, sir," I muttered dubiously. "But all the same I don't thinkhe was joking, sir. I'll be bound you'll find he has robbed you. Thestudy is just upside down! I have not tried to put it in order, sir, sothat you might see it as he left it!"

  Sir William gave me a wan smile. "I keep no valuables in the house,Brown," he replied, "except my manuscripts, and they are worthless toanyone but myself."

  Without another word he left the room, and I also hurried out in orderto prepare his bath. I did not venture to converse with him again, forhe had fallen into one of his impenetrable silent moods whichinevitably stirred him to wrath against any interrupter. As soon as Ihad dressed him he left the house, still steeped in speechless thought.He looked ten years older than he had the previous day, and I feltreally sorry to remember the additional cup of fear and horror he wouldbe called upon to drink when he and the others had ascertained the fullextent and import of my most recent impersonation.

  After he had gone, I snatched open the first paper that came to myhand. It was the _Morning Mail_. I discovered the black scare headlinein a second. Yes, sure enough it related how Mr. Cavanagh's valet hadfound his master lying on the studio floor a little after midnight,stone dead, with a revolver clutched in his right hand. The man had notheard the shot, but he had been awakened by some noise, and he hadthought his master had called out to him. He admitted that he was aheavy sleeper, and he did not remember hearing Mr. Cavanagh enter thehouse. The artist's great picture upon which he had been working for ayear, and which was almost finished, was half destroyed by fire, and itlooked as though by accident, for a naked gas jet burned perilouslyclose to the easel. The bullet which had killed Mr. Cavanagh had beenfound by the police embedded in the plaster of a distant wall, near theceiling. The writer of the article had ingeniously concluded that theartist on entering his studio and observing the fruit of his ardentlabours destroyed beyond repair, had, in the first sharp flush of hisdespair, committed suicide!

  As for me, when I scanned the page and considered one by one thecircumstantial dove-tailing details of that ghastly history--I confessthat for a moment I doubted my senses' evidence. A little reflection,however, brought me to a realization of the truth, and a greaterrespect than ever for a certain eminent surgeon--to wit--Sir CharlesVenner. I saw in everything I read, his calm, cold-blooded scheming. Onmy last glimpse he had been languidly smoking a cigarette, which hemust have lighted before the breath had quite departed from poorCavanagh's mutilated corpse. Perhaps nay, undoubtedly, he had even thenbeen planning how to act, and so arrange matters that no scandal mightbe associated with the name of his accursed hospital.

  As clearly as though I had been present I saw him ordering thatdreadful funeral; saw him take Cavanagh's latch-key from his chain; sawhim direct one of the negroes to prepare a conveyance; saw him lead thenegroes carrying the body to a waiting vehicle--and that silent cortegemove across the Heath to St. John's Wood. I saw him then open Mr.Cavanagh's door and noiselessly motion the negroes to bear the corpsewithin. I watched him dispose the body on the floor with scientificcalculation as to the proper direction of the bullet, and then climbingupon a chair or perhaps on the negroes' shoulders force the bulletthrough the curtain into the plaster. Perhaps that noise had awakenedCavanagh's drowsy headed servant! I saw him approach the easel and setfire to the great picture, so as to supply the world with a motive forthe suicide--and finally I saw him steal away with his ebony attendantsfrom the house--three dark malignant spirits, veritable caterers ofdeath!

  Somehow I shuddered to think of Sir Charles Venner. I felt him to be afoeman more worthy of my steel than all his fellows, and I half wished,half feared to cross swords with him. It is true that already I hadtwice managed to out-wit him, and he had not dreamed in either case ofdoubting my assumed identity. But I could not claim much credit in thelatter bout, nor feel much satisfaction, since throughout that awfulevening Sir Charles had been too occupied to do more than throw a hastyglance in my direction. What would happen, I wondered, in a real fairbattle of wits, each of us forewarned of the encounter? I had profoundfaith in my powers and resources, but I dared not forecast that issue!Twice we had met, and twice I had succeeded. Would we strive again, andwho would win on the third and fatal meeting?

  Such were the questions I asked myself unceasingly; but I could answernone of them.

  It was not until almost four o'clock in the afternoon that my masterreturned home, and he was accompanied by Sir Charles Venner and Dr.Fulton. I was at once called into the study and put through a rigidcross-examination, by all three, regarding my pretended visitor of theprevious evening. But I had expected such an ordeal, and I came throughwith colours flying. I was much concerned, however, to perceive thatSir William Dagmar looked very ill. He coughed incessantly and sohaggard and careworn was his visage that I believed he would presentlycollapse. My prognostications were justified by the event. Soon after Ihad been dismissed the bell rang violently, and I hurried upstairs tosee the two surgeons carrying my master's unconscious body to thebedroom. I undressed him there and put him to bed; whereupon theycarefully examined him, and held a long and anxious consultation overhis condition. An hour passed before he recovered from his swoon, buteven when he awoke it was not to his proper senses, for he immediatelybegan to babble a stream of meaningless nonsense. The surgeons lookingvery grave agreed to administer an opiate, and they injected some fluidhypodermically into his arm.

  Sir Charles then informed me that they feared a serious attack ofmeningitis, and he promised to send a trained nurse within an hour tolook after the sick man. He left at once, but Dr. Fulton remained untilmy master went to sleep. The nurse arrived half an hour later, and Iprepared one of the spare bed-rooms for her use. She was an angularhard-featured woman named Hargreaves, but she had a soft voice andpleasing manners, and she seemed to know her business. Mr. SeftonDagmar arrived at about seven o'clock. As soon as he heard that hisuncle was ill and likely to die, he went half crazy with joy andinsisted upon staying in the house. I did not wish him to at all, butthere was nothing for me to do except put up with the infliction, andprepare another bed-room. However, he sent me out soon after dinner todespatch a telegram to Newhaven for his baggage, and for that littleinvoluntary service that he did me, I became reconciled to hispresence. The fact was, I needed an excuse to quit the house uponbusiness of my own. Ever since my master had swooned I had beenthinking very hard, and it seemed to me that if I wished to improve myfortunes, I must strike at once before all the geese, whom I expectedto lay me golden eggs, should die. Having sent Mr. Sefton Dagmar'swire, I took a cab to Cheapside and sought out a cheap stationer'sshop. I bought some common note paper and envelopes, and begging theloan of a pen, I scratched in straggling print the following epistle toSir Charles Venner:--

  "Sir--If you will inquire at the Colonnade Hotel for Mr. Seth Halfordto-morrow evening at nine o'clock, you will be shown to a room, whereyou will find Dagmar the second. Kindly bring money and come alone!"

  I posted this letter at the G.P.O., and returned to Curzon Street. Inthe morning Sir William D
agmar was in a high fever and ravingdeliriously. As I had a houseful to provide for, and am not a lover oftrouble, I went early abroad and arranged with a restaurateur to supplyall our meals. I then drove in a cab to a post office in the Old KentRoad and sent myself a telegram from my dying mother, which arrived atnoon. Sir Charles Venner visited his patient at one, and after he hadgone I showed my telegram to Mr. Sefton Dagmar and Nurse Hargreaves,both of whom urged me to attend the summons, assuring me that I was notneeded at the house. I tearfully allowed their protestations toprevail, and betook myself to my little stronghold in Bruton Street.There arrived, I spent the rest of that day making myself up torepresent the old actor whom I had impersonated on the occasion when Ihad shadowed my master to the Kingsmere Hospital for Consumptives. Fora purpose, to be afterwards explained, I furnished my pockets with asmall assortment of wigs, beards and moustaches. When darkness fell Iissued forth and rode in a cab to the Colonnade Hotel. The clerk staredat me rather haughtily when I asked for a room in so swell a place, butI satisfied his scruples with half a sovereign, which tip no doubtinduced him to believe me an eccentric millionaire. I told him that Iexpected a visitor, my friend, Sir Charles Venner, the great surgeon,at nine o'clock, and desired him to be shown up at once to my bedroom.After that he was all obsequiousness. I dined at the hotel, and tofortify myself for the fray I drank a small bottle of sparklingburgundy. At a quarter to nine I repaired to my room, which wassituated near the first angle of the building on turning from thestaircase, on the second floor. It was furnished in the ordinary stylevery plainly and simply. I quickly stripped the dressing-table of itscontents and placed it in the middle floor. I set a chair on eitherside of the table, and I sat down upon the one that faced thedoor--which I had left unlatched--I then put on a pair of goggles andwaited.

  Sir Charles Venner was praiseworthily punctual. Big Ben was stillchiming the hour when I heard his tap on the panel.

  "Come in!" I cried.

  The handle turned and he entered, just pausing on the threshold to tipthe waiter who had brought him up.

  "My dear old chap!" I exclaimed for the waiter's benefit, "this is goodof you, as ever, punctual to the tick!"

  He closed the door carefully behind him, and advanced towards thetable, pulling off his gloves as he did so. I, on the contrary, hadbeen careful to keep my hands thickly gloved, for I wanted those keeneyes of his to have as few recognizing details as possible to remember,and hands are tell tale things, as I had proved sufficiently already.

  "I suppose I may be seated!" he began in steady tones.

  I nodded, eating him with my gaze. His countenance was perfectlyimpassive, but his eyes returned my stare with penetrating interest.

  He sat down and calmly crossed his knees. "My time is limited," hedeclared. "Kindly proceed to business. You sent for me and I am here!"

  I bowed my head. "True, Sir Charles," I replied in an assumed voice. "Ido not propose to detain you long. The Kingsmere Hospital forConsumptives doubtless claims your care, so I shall be as brief aspossible!"

  I watched him sharply, but he did not turn a hair nor move a muscle."Go on!" was all he said.

  "Shall we avoid details?" I enquired.

  "Unnecessary details, sir. But tell me all you know!"

  "Not very much!" I said gently. "Unlawful secret society! We'll callthat number one, and bracket with it George Cavanagh's death bysuicide." A look of relief crossed his face at the word suicide. Ismiled and proceeded. "Number two: Vivisection is unlawful--Ifancy--and you might be convicted of murder on my showing. It would befor a jury to determine, for all the great surgeon that you are. Ithink that is enough Sir Charles!"

  "Bah!" said he, and a curious gleam came into his eyes. "You canscandalize and perhaps destroy my practice, that is all. I admit youhave me in a chain, but take care not to strain the bond too far. I donot depend upon my practice for a living, and in the cause of science Ishall dare to face scandal, if you press me!"

  "I am glad to hear that you have a private fortune," I answeredquietly. "I have the less compunction in asking you to contribute toanother man's support. The world's wealth is distributed very unevenly,Sir Charles. Do you not agree with me?"

  For the first time a shade of annoyance crossed his face. "I mustdecline to discuss abstractions with a blackmailer," he replied inirritated tones. "What is your name, and what is your price?"

  "My name for the present is Seth Halford, Sir Charles. I shall not denythat it is liable to frequent change--" I smiled--"but I defy you todetect its transmutations, sir, or follow its vicarious possessor tohis lair. As for my price, I have no object in withholding that--It isten thousand pounds!"

  "And is it not subject, like your name, to change?"

  "Not by so much as one farthing, Sir Charles."

  He nodded and got languidly to his feet. "I came here prepared tosacrifice five hundred," he said quietly. "Two in cash, the balanceto-morrow. I am not sure that I am not pleased to save the money."

  "Will you save it?" I asked.

  "Unless you hedge immediately in your outrageously extravagant demand."

  "Unhappily, Sir Charles, that is utterly impossible."

  "Then I shall save it!"

  "How?"

  "By calling in the police and arresting you for attempted blackmail."

  I broke into a soft rippling laugh. "So--" I muttered, "you only valueyour neck at five hundred pounds! Such fine and delicate vertebrae theyare too!"

  The irony brought some colour to his cheek. "My neck is in no danger,"he retorted angrily. "What can you prove against us you fool, exceptthat I performed a wonderful operation in the cause of science, in theardent hope of saving a man's life, and in the sure trust ofbenefitting the whole human race?"

  "But the man died, doctor, and he was one of nineteen! The coroner willshortly have a harvest, nineteen autopsies, Sir Charles! Think of them!Nineteen autopsies!"

  "You fool," he repeated in tones of repressed passion, "if there wereeven ninety--what of it? But enough of this! choose between fivehundred pounds and the lock-up. Choose quickly!"

  He turned as he spoke and strode to the door. His hand was already onthe latch. In another second the door would have been thrown wide.Perhaps there was a policeman in the passage, I thought it unlikely butstill--possible! At all events it was time for me to cease triflingwith my adversary.

  "You appear, Sir Charles Venner, to have forgotten the matter ofCavanagh's death!" I hissed out. "He killed himself at the hospital,and his body was discovered at the studio!"

  "That can be explained!" he retorted; but his hand fell softly from thelatch. "We have plenty of witnesses who saw his suicide."

  "Suicide!" I sneered. "What _of rule three, you one of sevenmurderers_!"

  Sir Charles Venner re-crossed the room and quietly resumed his chair.His face was still as expressionless as a mask, but all the lustre haddeparted from his eyes.

  "What do you know of rule three?" he asked in lifeless tones after along intense pause.

  I knew so little that it seemed necessary to lie. "Enough to hang you,"I murmured, smiling pleasantly. "I should tell you perhaps, my dear SirCharles, that I have impersonated Sir William Dagmar more often than Ihave fingers and toes--during the past twelve months. Ha! you start!" Ilaughed wickedly. "Did you really permit yourself to dream that youhave guessed the full extent of my depredations on your order--fromyour one or two chance and predestined discoveries. Oh! oh! Ha! ha!This is really too good!"

  He bit his lips and eyed me sternly. "I shall need better proof thanyour word," he said.

  I nodded, got to my feet and strode to the door. I threw it open andwith an elaborate bow pointed to the passage.

  "You shall have it," I cried, "but only in the police court!"

  "Bluff!" he sneered. "Bluff!" He did not move from his chair.

  "Oh!" said I, "you choose to pay yourself a compliment! So you think Iwould follow your example of a moment since? But you are wrong!" Iwalked to the electric bell and pressed the bu
tton.

  Sir Charles Venner's impassivity disappeared like magic. His faceturned scarlet and he sprang instantly afoot.

  "Curse you!" he grated out, "what would you do?"

  "Sir, our interview is at an end. My servant will show you to thestreet!"

  "The sum you ask is utterly beyond our means!"

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "Five thousand!" he hissed.

  I yawned.

  "Seven then, though it will ruin us!" he cried distractedly.

  I took out a cigarette and struck a light. He watched me expel fivepuffs of vapour from my mouth, but I did not so much as glance at him.Then a servant appeared in the doorway.

  "You rang, sir?" he enquired.

  "Yes!" I looked at the fellow approvingly. He was a much stouter manand perhaps an inch taller than I, and he had large feet. He wasattired in the hotel uniform. He wore a dragoon's moustache, and helooked like an old soldier. "I wish you to be good enough to show mydear friend, Sir Charles Venner, to the street." I turned to SirCharles and immediately perceived that my adversary had become myvictim.

  "When and where shall we meet again?" he muttered hoarsely.

  "Ten?" said I. He was grey, grey to his lips. His eyes shone like stars.

  "Yes, ten!" he replied.

  "I'll drop you a line!" I said with a smile. "But how careless of me, Ialmost forget my hospital subscription list. How much may I put youdown for? You know the cause is a deserving one. Shall we say twohundred pounds?"

  "Oh, I suppose so," he said.

  "Cash, old chap? Or will you send me a cheque?" I frowned as our eyesmet, and he read my meaning.

  "I brought the money with me," he replied. "I may as well hand it overto you now. I shall thereby save a postage stamp!" He threw a bundle ofnotes upon the table.

  I smiled again and looking steadily into his eyes held out one hand."Well, good night to you, old boy--sleep well--and be good till we meetagain!"

  I fancy Sir Charles Venner had never been submitted to a moreintolerable piece of degradation. To be commanded to shake hands withone's blackmailer! His eyes were simply murderous, but he obeyed. Itwas only a form of course, for our fingers barely touched, but hisinvoluntary shiver of repulsion was communicated to my frame even inthat swift contact, and I had enough fine feeling in me to appreciatehis passionate disgust. To be candid, I liked him all the betterbecause of it, for although there is not a spark of pride in mycomposition, a constitutional weakness obliges me to respect pride inother people.

  Five minutes after he had gone, I left my room and strolled to the headof the stairs. As I had expected, a gentleman was seated upon thelounge that faced the door of the elevator, I could not see his facefor it was concealed behind a newspaper. But I marked one incongruouscircumstance in his apparel. He wore evening dress, and ordinary streetboots of black leather. I am afraid I was so vulgar as to permit myselfthe indulgence of a wink. I passed him and leisurely descended thefirst flight of stairs. Of a sudden I stopped, and turning about ranupstairs again at the top of my speed, taking three steps at a time. Mygentleman had already begun to descend the stairs. I passed him withouta glance, swearing in a low but audible key at my forgetfulness. Inanother moment I was back in my room pressing the electric button."So!" thought I, "they have employed a detective to shadow me. Well, weshall see!"

  Presently a knock sounded on the door, and the waiter entered, who hadshown Sir Charles out.

  "Shut it," I said. He obeyed.

  "What is your name?" I demanded.

  "Martin, sir."

  "Well, look here, Martin," said I, "my old friend Sir Charles Vennerhas just bet me a hundred pounds that I cannot succeed in getting outof this hotel in some disguise, without his suspecting me, during thenext half hour. Now he is waiting in the vestibule, is he not?"

  The waiter grinned. "No, sir, just inside the coffee room door; I waswondering what he wanted. He gave me half a crown, sir."

  "Half a crown!" I sneered. "Look here Martin----" I took Sir Charles'own roll from my pocket and selected two brand new five pound notes."Now Sir Charles thinks himself very smart, and he fancies he can seethrough a disguise in a second. But I reckon a bit on my smartness too,for when I was a young man before I made a fortune out of mining I wason the stage. With your help, my man, I'll do Sir Charles up, do himbrown--and these notes will be yours for helping me!"

  Martin's eyes almost burst out of their sockets. "All right, sir!" hecried excitedly. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Exchange clothes with me for ten minutes. Here are the notes, myman--I'll pay you beforehand. All I'll have to do to win my bet is toslip out of the house and return. Hurry up, Martin!"

  But Martin had already begun to slip off his coat. The bank notes weretightly clutched between his teeth, so he could not reply, but I wasrather glad of that. I induced him to remove even his boots, and infive minutes I was to all appearances a hotel waiter. A false moustachegave me a general look of Martin, but a glance in the mirror showed mea bad fault, the long hair of my previous character, the oldShakesperean actor, fell upon my collar, while Martin's hair wascropped closely to his head. But I dared not exchange the wig I waswearing for another in Martin's presence, for fear of exciting hisdistrust, neither dared I remove my false bushy grey eyebrows.

  Difficulties, however, are made to be surmounted. Whispering a word ofwarning in Martin's ear, I opened the door, and in a loud voicecommanded him to procure me a cab. Martin cried out--"Very good, sir!"and I slipped into the passage, banging the door behind me. My trickwas successful, the corridor was deserted. In two seconds I had pulledoff my wig and substituted another, also I tore off my false eyebrowsand stuffed them into my pocket, that is to say, into Martin's pocket.I then strode down the corridor and turned the corner with the briskstep and manner of a waiter going on an urgent message. My gentlemanspy was again seated on the lounge that faced the elevator, and oncemore intrenched behind a newspaper.

  He threw at me one quick glance over the edge of the journal, and hisface vanished. I had just time to photograph his features on mymind--no more. Running down the stairs I reached the vestibule, whichto my delight was thronged with guests. A moment later, having giventhe coffee room a wide berth, I passed through the open hall door andgained the street. A gentleman was standing on the footpath paying offa cab from which he had just alighted. I sprang into the vehicle anddrove to Piccadilly Circus. A second took me to Marble Arch, and athird to Bruton Street. Feeling assured that I had not been followed, Islipped upstairs and into my room.

  An hour later, Brown, Sir William Dagmar's discreet valet, stepped outof an omnibus before the General Post Office, letter in hand addressedto Sir Charles Venner. The letter, which was subscribed in printedcharacters, contained these words:--"To-morrow afternoon, at 4.30,inquire at Bolingbroke Hotel, Piccadilly, for Dr. Rudolf Garschagen.Bank of England notes alone acceptable. Dagmar II."

  I slept that night at Bruton Street.