Havoc

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XV

  LAVERICK's PARTNER FLEES

  The doctor, a grave, incurious person, arrived within a few minutesto find Morrison already conscious but absolutely exhausted. Hefelt his patient's pulse, prescribed a draught, and followedLaverick down into the sitting room.

  "An ordinary case of nervous exhaustion," he pronounced. "Thepatient appears to have had a very severe shock lately. He will beall right with proper diet and treatment, and a complete rest. Iwill call again to-morrow."

  He accepted the fee which Laverick slipped into his hand, and tookhis departure. Once more Laverick was alone with the girl, who hadfollowed them downstairs.

  "There is nothing to be alarmed at, you see," he remarked.

  "It is not his health which frightens me. I am sure--I am quitesure that he has something upon his mind. Did he tell you nothing?"

  "Nothing at all," Laverick answered, with an inward sense ofthankfulness. "To tell you the truth, though, I am afraid you areright and that he did get into some sort of trouble last night. Hewas just about to tell me something when he fainted."

  Upstairs they could hear him moaning. The girl listened withpitiful face.

  "What am I to do?" she asked. "I cannot leave him like this, andif I am not at the theatre in twenty minutes, I shall be fined."

  "The theatre?" Laverick repeated.

  She nodded.

  "I am on the stage," she said,--"only a chorus girl at theUniversal, worse luck. Still, they don't allow us to stay away,and I can't afford to lose my place."

  "Do you mean to say that you have been keeping yourself here, then?"Laverick asked bluntly.

  "Of course," she answered. "I do not like to be a burden on anyone, and after all, you see, Arthur and I are really not related atall. He has always told me, too, that times have been so bad lately."

  Laverick was on the point of telling her that bad though they hadbeen Arthur Morrison had never drawn less than fifteen hundred ayear, but he checked himself. It was not his business to interfere.

  "I think," he said, "that your brother ought to have provided foryou. He could have done so with very little effort."

  "But what am I to do now?" she asked him. "If I am absent, I shalllose my place."

  Laverick thought for a moment.

  "If you went round there and told them," he suggested, "would thatmake any difference? I could stay until you came back."

  "Do you mind?" she asked eagerly. "It would be so kind of you."

  "Not at all," he answered. "Perhaps you would be good enough tobring a taxicab back, and I could take it on to my rooms. Takeone from here, if you can find it. There are always some at thecorner."

  "I'd love to," she answered. "I must run upstairs and get my hatand coat."

  He watched her go up on tiptoe for fear of disturbing her brother.Her feet seemed almost unearthly in the lightness of their pressure.Not a board creaked. She seemed to float down to him in a mostbecoming little hat but a shockingly shabby jacket, of whosedeficiencies she seemed wholly unaware. Her lips were parted oncemore in a smile.

  "He is fast asleep and breathing quite regularly," she announced."It is nice of you to stay."

  He looked at her almost jealously.

  "Do you know," he said, "you ought not to go about alone?"

  She laughed, softly but heartily.

  "Have you any idea how old I am?"

  "I took you for fourteen when I came inside," he answered."Afterwards I thought you might be sixteen. Later on, it seemedto me possible that you were eighteen. I am absolutely certainthat you are not more than nineteen."

  "That shows how little you know about it. I am twenty, and I amquite used to going about alone. Will you sit upstairs or here?I am so sorry that I have nothing to offer you."

  "Thanks, I need nothing. I think I will sit upstairs in case hewakes."

  She nodded and stole out, closing the door behind her noiselessly.Laverick watched her from the window until she was out of sight,moving without any appearance of haste, yet with an incredibleswiftness. When she had turned the corner, he went slowlyupstairs and into the room where Morrison still lay asleep. Hedrew a chair to the bedside and leaning forward opened out theevening paper. The events of the last hour or so had completelyblotted out from his mind, for the time being, his own expeditioninto the world of tragical happenings. He glanced at the sleepingman, then opened his paper. There was very little fresh newsexcept that this time the fact was mentioned that upon the bodyof the murdered man was discovered a sum larger than was at firstsupposed. It seemed doubtful, therefore, whether robbery, afterall, was the motive of the crime, especially as it took place ina neighborhood which was by no means infested with criminals. Therewas a suggestion of political motive, a reference to the "BlackHand," concerning whose doings the papers had been full since themurder of a well-known detective a few weeks ago. But apart fromthis there was nothing fresh.

  Laverick folded up the paper and leaned back in his chair. Thestrain of the last twenty-four hours was beginning to tell even uponhis robust constitution. The atmosphere of the room, too, was close.He leaned back in his chair and was suddenly weary. Perhaps hedozed. At any rate, the whisper which called him back to realizationof where he was, came to him so unexpectedly that he sat up with asudden start.

  Morrison's eyes were open, he had raised himself on his elbow, hislips were parted. His manner was quieter, but there were blacklines deep engraven under his eyes, in which there still shonesomething of that haunting fear.

  "Laverick!" he repeated hoarsely.

  Laverick, fully awakened now, leaned towards him.

  "Hullo," he said, "are you feeling more like yourself?"

  Morrison nodded.

  "Yes," he admitted, "I am feeling--better. How did you come here?I can't remember anything."

  "You sent for me," Laverick answered. "I arrived to find youpretty well in a state of collapse. Your sister has gone round tothe theatre to ask them to excuse her this evening."

  "I remember now that I sent for you," Morrison continued. "Tell me,has any one been around at the office asking after me?"

  "No one particular," Laverick answered,--"no one at all that I canthink of. There were one or two inquiries through the telephone,but they were all ordinary business matters."

  The man on the bed drew a little breath which sounded like a sighof relief.

  "I have made a fool of myself, Laverick," he said hoarsely.

  "You are making a worse one of yourself by lying here and givingway," Laverick declared, "besides frightening your sister half todeath."

  Morrison passed his hand across his forehead.

  "We talked--some time ago," he went on, "about my getting away.You promised that you would help me. You said that I could getoff to Africa or America to-morrow."

  "Not the slightest difficulty about that," Laverick answered. "Thereare half-a-dozen steamers sailing, at least. At the same time, Isuppose I ought to remind you that the firm is going to pull through.Mind--don't take this unkindly but the truth is best--I will nothave you back again. There may have to be a more definitereadjustment of our affairs now, but the old business is finishedwith."

  "I don't want to come back," Morrison murmured. "I have had enoughof the city for the rest of my life. I'd rather get away somewhereand make a fresh start. You'll help me, Laverick, won't you?"

  "Yes, I will help you," Laverick promised.

  "You were always a good sort," Morrison continued, "much too goodfor me. It was a rotten partnership for you. We could never havepulled together."

  "Let that go," Laverick interrupted. "If you really mean gettingaway, that simplifies matters, of course. Have you made any plansat all? Where do you want to go?"

  "To New York," answered Morrison; "New York would suit me best.There is money to be made there if one has something to make astart with."

  "There will be some more money to come to you," Laverick answered,"probably a great de
al more. I shall place our affairs in the handsof an accountant, and shall have an estimate drawn up to yesterday.You shall have every penny that is due to you. You have quiteenough, however, to get there with. I will see to your ticketto-night, if possible. When you've arrived you can cable me youraddress, or you can decide where you will stay before you leave,and I will send you a further remittance."

  "You're a good sort, Laverick," Morrison mumbled.

  "You'd better give me the key of your rooms," Laverick continued,"and I will go back and put together some of your things. I supposeyou will not want much to go away with. The rest can be sent onafterwards. And what about your letters?"

  Morrison, with a sudden movement, threw himself almost out of thebed. He clutched at Laverick's shoulder frantically.

  "Don't go near my rooms, Laverick!" he begged. "Promise me that youwon't! I don't want any letters! I don't want any of my things!"

  Laverick was dumfounded.

  "You mean you want to go away without--"

  "I mean just what I have said," Morrison continued hysterically."If you go there they will watch you, they will follow you, theywill find out where I am. I should be there now but for that."

  Laverick was silent for a moment. The matter was becoming serious.

  "Very well," he said, "I will do as you say. I will not go nearyour rooms. I will get you a few things somewhere to start with."

  Morrison sank back upon his pillow.

  "Thank you, Laverick," he said; "thank you. I wish--I wish--"

  His voice seemed to die away. Laverick glanced towards him,wondering at the unfinished sentence. Once again the man's faceseemed to be convulsed with horror. He flung himself face downwardupon the bed and tore at the sheets with both his hands.

  "Don't be a fool," Laverick said sternly. "If you've anything onyour mind apart from business, tell me about it and I'll do whatI can to help you."

  Morrison made no reply. He was sobbing now like a child. Laverickrose to his feet and went to the window. What was to be done withsuch a creature! When he got back, Morrison had raised himself oncemore into a sitting posture. His appearance was absolutely spectral.

  "Laverick," he said feebly, "there is something else, but I cannottell you--I cannot tell any one."

  "Just as you please, of course," Laverick answered. "I am simplyanxious to help you."

  "You can do that as it is!" Morrison exclaimed feverishly. "Youmust promise me something--promise that if any one asks for meto-morrow before I get away, you will not tell them where I am.Say you suppose that I am at my rooms, or that I have gone intothe country for a few days. Say that you are expecting me back.Don't let any one know that I have gone abroad, until I am safelyaway. And then don't tell a soul where I have gone."

  "Have you been up to any tricks with your friends?" Laverick askedsternly.

  "I haven't--I swear that I haven't," Morrison declared. "It'ssomething quite outside business--quite outside business altogether."

  "Very well," answered Laverick, "I will promise what you have asked,then. Listen--here is your sister back again," he added, as heheard the taxicab stop outside. "Pull yourself together and don'tfrighten her so much. I am going down to meet her. I shall tellher that you are better. Try and buck up when she comes in to seeyou."

  "I'll do my best," Morrison said humbly. "If you knew! If youonly knew!"

  He began to sob again. Laverick left the room and, descending thestairs, met the girl in the hall. Her white face questioned himbefore her lips had time to frame the speech.

  "Your brother is very much better," Laverick said. "I am sure thatyou need not be anxious about him."

  "I am so glad," she murmured. "They let me off but I had to pay afine. I had no idea before that I was so important. Shall I go tohim now?"

  "One moment," Laverick answered, holding open the door of thesitting-room. "Miss Morrison," he went on,--

  "Miss Leneven is my name," she interrupted.

  "I beg your pardon. Your brother evidently has something on hismind apart from business. I am afraid that he has been gettinginto some sort of trouble. I don't think there is any object inbothering him about it, but the great thing is to get him away."

  "You will help?" she begged.

  "I will help, certainly," Laverick answered. "I have promised to.You must see that he is ready to leave here at seven o'clockto-morrow morning. He wants to go to New York, and the specialto catch the German boat will leave Waterloo somewhere about eightto eight-thirty."

  "But his clothes!" she cried. "How can he be ready by then?"

  "Your brother does not wish me or any one to go near his rooms orto send him any of his belongings," Laverick continued quietly.

  "But how strange!" the girl exclaimed. "Do you mean to say, then,that he is going without anything?"

  "I am afraid," Laverick said kindly, "that we must take it forgranted that your brother has got mixed up in some undesirablebusiness or other. He is nervously anxious to keep his whereaboutsan entire secret. He has been asking me whether any one has beento the office to inquire for him. Under the circumstances, I thinkthe best thing we can do is to humor him. I shall buy him beforeto-morrow morning a cheap dressing-case and a ready-made suit ofclothes, and a few things for the voyage. Then I shall send a cabfor you both at seven o'clock and meet you at the station.

  "You are very kind," she murmured. "What should I have done withoutyou? Oh, I cannot think!"

  The protective instinct in the man was suddenly strong. Naturallyunaffectionate, he was conscious of an almost overmastering desireto take her hands in his, even to lift her up and kiss away thetears which shone in her deep, childlike eyes. He reminded himselfthat she was a stranger, that her appearance of youth was a delusion,that she could only construe such an action as a liberty, animpertinence, offered under circumstances for which there could beno possible excuse.

  He moved away towards the door.

  "Naturally," he said, "I am glad to be of use to your brother. Yousee," he explained, a little awkwardly, "after all, we have beenpartners in business."

  He caught a look upon her face and smiled.

  "Naturally, too," he continued, "it has been a great pleasure forme to do anything to relieve your anxiety."

  She gave him her hands then of her own accord. The gratitude whichshone out of her swimming eyes seemed mingled with something whichwas almost invitation. Laverick was suddenly swept off his feet.Something had come into his life--something absurd, uncounted upon,incomprehensible. The atmosphere of the room seemed electrified.In a moment, he had done what only a second or two before he hadtold himself would be the action of a cad. He had taken her,unresisting, up into his arms, kissed her eyes and lips. Afterwards,he was never able to remember those few moments clearly, only itseemed to him that she had accepted his caress almost withouthesitation, with the effortless serenity of a child receiving anatural consolation in a time of trouble. But Laverick was consciousof other feelings as he leaned hard back in the corner of his taxicaband was driven swiftly away.